And never shall I in my soul forget
The town that I leave with such deep regret!
The old Moscow boyars, hostile to the new customs, sat a little way off, warming themselves near the stove, holding converse with one another in allusions and riddles.
“What do you think, my lord, of life in Petersburg, eh?”
“To the devil with you and your Petersburg life! These compliments and reverences and obeisances of the woman-folk, and the foreign food, make one’s head go round!”
“What’s to be done, friend, but bear it? One cannot leap into heaven, nor bury oneself in the earth. Patience, patience!”
Mons was whispering into Nastenka’s ears a newly composed ditty:
Without love and passion,
All days are dreary.
Love sighs acquaint us