“I don’t think we have a copy of Pushkin in the house.”
“There are a couple of torn volumes somewhere; they have been lying about from time immemorial,” added Alexandra.
“Send Feodor or Alexey up by the very first train to buy a copy, then. — Aglaya, come here — kiss me, dear, you recited beautifully! but,” she added in a whisper, “if you were sincere I am sorry for you. If it was a joke, I do not approve of the feelings which prompted you to do it, and in any case you would have done far better not to recite it at all. Do you understand? — Now come along, young woman; we’ve sat here too long. I’ll speak to you about this another time.