Explore "Boris Lensky" by Ossip Schubin on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Twenty-four hours have passed since her arrival in London. A sleepless night in which she has with difficulty prepared what she will say to her cousin, and never could find the right words, lies behind her. Breakfast is over -- lunch. Afternoon begins to lose itself in evening. Baerenburg has not appeared. That he might stay away, might not notice her letter, had never occurred to her.
She had always stood on the best footing with her cousin. From youth he had had a weakness for his charming, talented, only, alas! so "deplorably eccentric, cousin. " Never had he refused her any favor she had asked him, and if she had sent for him, he had always come sooner than she expected him. No, never for an instant had she doubted that he would come. If she had felt excited and anxious the whole morning, it was only from dislike of the unpleasant explanation with him. Now she knew very well what she would say to him. She need only describe Mascha's grief to him, her touching fear of exposing him, her eagerness for death.