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And
this
girl
,
who
united
all
these
qualities
,
loved
him
.
He
was
a
modest
man
,
but
he
could
not
help
seeing
it
.
And
he
loved
her
.
There
was
one
consideration
against
it
his
age
.
But
he
came
of
a
long
-
lived
family
,
he
had
not
a
single
gray
hair
,
no
one
would
have
taken
him
for
forty
,
and
he
remembered
Varenka
s
saying
that
it
was
only
in
Russia
that
men
of
fifty
thought
themselves
old
,
and
that
in
France
a
man
of
fifty
considers
himself
dans
la
force
de
l
âge
,
while
a
man
of
forty
is
un
jeune
homme
.
But
what
did
the
mere
reckoning
of
years
matter
when
he
felt
as
young
in
heart
as
he
had
been
twenty
years
ago
?
Was
it
not
youth
to
feel
as
he
felt
now
,
when
coming
from
the
other
side
to
the
edge
of
the
wood
he
saw
in
the
glowing
light
of
the
slanting
sunbeams
the
gracious
figure
of
Varenka
in
her
yellow
gown
with
her
basket
,
walking
lightly
by
the
trunk
of
an
old
birch
tree
,
and
when
this
impression
of
the
sight
of
Varenka
blended
so
harmoniously
with
the
beauty
of
the
view
,
of
the
yellow
oatfield
lying
bathed
in
the
slanting
sunshine
,
and
beyond
it
the
distant
ancient
forest
flecked
with
yellow
and
melting
into
the
blue
of
the
distance
?
His
heart
throbbed
joyously
.
A
softened
feeling
came
over
him
.
He
felt
that
he
had
made
up
his
mind
.
Varenka
,
who
had
just
crouched
down
to
pick
a
mushroom
,
rose
with
a
supple
movement
and
looked
round
.
Flinging
away
the
cigar
,
Sergey
Ivanovitch
advanced
with
resolute
steps
towards
her
.
Varvara
Andreevna
,
when
I
was
very
young
,
I
set
before
myself
the
ideal
of
the
woman
I
loved
and
should
be
happy
to
call
my
wife
.
I
have
lived
through
a
long
life
,
and
now
for
the
first
time
I
have
met
what
I
sought
in
you
.
I
love
you
,
and
offer
you
my
hand
.
Sergey
Ivanovitch
was
saying
this
to
himself
while
he
was
ten
paces
from
Varvara
.
Kneeling
down
,
with
her
hands
over
the
mushrooms
to
guard
them
from
Grisha
,
she
was
calling
little
Masha
.
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Come
here
,
little
ones
!
There
are
so
many
!
she
was
saying
in
her
sweet
,
deep
voice
.
Seeing
Sergey
Ivanovitch
approaching
,
she
did
not
get
up
and
did
not
change
her
position
,
but
everything
told
him
that
she
felt
his
presence
and
was
glad
of
it
.
Well
,
did
you
find
some
?
she
asked
from
under
the
white
kerchief
,
turning
her
handsome
,
gently
smiling
face
to
him
.
Not
one
,
said
Sergey
Ivanovitch
.
Did
you
?
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She
did
not
answer
,
busy
with
the
children
who
thronged
about
her
.
That
one
too
,
near
the
twig
,
she
pointed
out
to
little
Masha
a
little
fungus
,
split
in
half
across
its
rosy
cap
by
the
dry
grass
from
under
which
it
thrust
itself
.
Varenka
got
up
while
Masha
picked
the
fungus
,
breaking
it
into
two
white
halves
.
This
brings
back
my
childhood
,
she
added
,
moving
apart
from
the
children
beside
Sergey
Ivanovitch
.
They
walked
on
for
some
steps
in
silence
.
Varenka
saw
that
he
wanted
to
speak
;
she
guessed
of
what
,
and
felt
faint
with
joy
and
panic
.
They
had
walked
so
far
away
that
no
one
could
hear
them
now
,
but
still
he
did
not
begin
to
speak
.
It
would
have
been
better
for
Varenka
to
be
silent
.