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Poor Folk by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
page 40 of 176 (22%)
Yet on one occasion I saw the poor old fellow actually turn pale
on being told by his son not to touch the books. Abashed and
confused, he, in his awkward hurry, replaced the volume wrong
side uppermost; whereupon, with a supreme effort to recover
himself, he turned it round with a smile and a blush, as though
he were at a loss how to view his own misdemeanour. Gradually, as
already said, the younger Pokrovski weaned his father from his
dissipated ways by giving him a small coin whenever, on three
successive occasions, he (the father) arrived sober. Sometimes,
also, the younger man would buy the older one shoes, or a tie, or
a waistcoat; whereafter, the old man would be as proud of his
acquisition as a peacock. Not infrequently, also, the old man
would step in to visit ourselves, and bring Sasha and myself
gingerbread birds or apples, while talking unceasingly of
Petinka. Always he would beg of us to pay attention to our
lessons, on the plea that Petinka was a good son, an exemplary
son, a son who was in twofold measure a man of learning; after
which he would wink at us so quizzingly with his left eye, and
twist himself about in such amusing fashion, that we were forced
to burst out laughing. My mother had a great liking for him, but
he detested Anna Thedorovna--although in her presence he would be
quieter than water and lowlier than the earth.

Soon after this I ceased to take lessons of Pokrovski. Even now
he thought me a child, a raw schoolgirl, as much as he did Sasha;
and this hurt me extremely, seeing that I had done so much to
expiate my former behaviour. Of my efforts in this direction no
notice had been taken, and the fact continued to anger me more
and more. Scarcely ever did I address a word to my tutor between
school hours, for I simply could not bring myself to do it. If I
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