cold water and vinegar. All at once Nezhdanov ceased gasping and stirred a little.
'He is coming to himself,' whispered Solomin.
Marianna was on her knees near the sofa.. . .
Nezhdanov glanced at her . . . up till then his eyes had had the fixed look of the dying.
'Oh, I'm . . . still alive,' he articulated, scarcely audibly. 'Failed again . . . I'm keeping you.'
'Alyosha!' moaned Marianna.
'Oh, yes . . . directly.. . . You remember, Marianna, in my . . . poem . . . "With flowers then deck me . . ." where are the flowers? But you're here instead.. . . There, in my letter.. . .'
He suddenly shivered all over.
'Ah, here she is.. . . Give each other . . . both . . . your hands—before me.. . . Quick . . . take . . .'
Solomin grasped Marianna's hand. Her head lay on the sofa, face downwards, close to the wound.
Solomin stood stern and upright, looking dark as night.
'Yes . . . good . . . yes . . .'
Nezhdanov began to sob again, but in a strange, unusual way.. . . His breast rose, his sides heaved. . . .
He obviously was trying to lay his hand on
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