“Exactly, not a hair’s breadth farther,” answered Prince Vasíli, laughing, “ ‘Sergéy Kuzmích⁠ ⁠… From all sides⁠ ⁠… From all sides⁠ ⁠… Sergéy Kuzmích⁠ ⁠…’ Poor Vyazmítinov could not get any farther! He began the rescript again and again, but as soon as he uttered ‘Sergéy’ he sobbed, ‘Kuz-mí-ch,’ tears, and ‘From all sides’ was smothered in sobs and he could get no farther. And again his handkerchief, and again: ‘Sergéy Kuzmích, From all sides,’ ⁠ ⁠… and tears, till at last somebody else was asked to read it.”

“Kuzmích⁠ ⁠… From all sides⁠ ⁠… and then tears,” someone repeated laughing.

“Don’t be unkind,” cried Anna Pávlovna from her end of the table holding up a threatening finger. “He is such a worthy and excellent man, our dear Viasmitinoff.⁠ ⁠…”