od in the middle of the room, rubbing his
hands.
"I should have done better to have left my audience in the street,"
thought Von Koren, and he said firmly: "Don't remember evil against
me, Ivan Andreitch. To forget the past is, of course, impossible
--it is too painful, and I've not come here to apologise or to
declare that I was not to blame. I acted sincerely, and I have not
changed my convictions since then. . . . It is true that I see, to
my great delight, that I was mistaken in regard to you, but it's
easy to make a false step even on a smooth road, and, in fact, it's
the natural human lot: if one is not mistaken in the main, one is
mistaken in the details. Nobody knows the real truth."
"No, no one knows the truth," said Laevsky.
"Well, good-bye. . . . God give you all happiness."
Von Koren gave Laevsky his hand; the latter took it and bowed.
"Don't remember evil against me," said Von Koren. "Give my greetings
to your wife, and say I am very sorry not to say good-bye to her."
"She is at home."
Laevsky went to the door of the next room, and said:
"Nadya, Nikolay Vassilitch wants to say goodbye to you."
Nadyezhda Fyodorovna came in; she stopped near the doorway and
looked shyly at the visitors. There was a look of guilt and dismay
on her face, and she held her hands like a schoolgirl receiving a
scolding.
"I'm just going away, Nadyezhda Fyodorovna," said Von Koren, "and
have come to say good-bye."
She held out her hand uncertainly, while Laevsky bowed.
"What pitiful figures they are, though!" thought Von Koren. "The
life they are living does not come easy to them. I shall be in
Moscow and Petersburg; can I send you anything?" he asked.
"Oh!" said Nadyezhda Fyodorovna, and she looked anxiously at her
husband. "I don't think there's anything. . . ."
"No, nothing . . ." said Laevsky, rubbing his hands. "Our greetings."
Von Koren did not know what he could or ought to say, though as he
went in he thought he would say a very great deal that would be
warm and good and important. He shook hands with Laevsky and his
wife in silence, and left them with a depressed feeling.
"What people!" said the deacon in a low voice, as he walked behind
them. "My God, what people! Of a truth, the right hand of God has
planted this vine! Lord! Lord! One man vanquishes thousands and
another tens of thousands. Nikolay Vassilitch," he said ecstatically,
"let me tell you that to-day you have conquered the grea
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