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¡°Oh, no. I didn¡¯t mean that. Only, Vanya, you¡¯ve a face that¡¯s not what one would call a poet¡¯s. They¡¯re pale, they say, you know, the poets, and with hair like this, you know, and a look in their eyes . . . like Goethe, you know, and the rest of them, I¡¯ve read that in Abaddon . . . well? Have I put my foot in it again? Ah, the rogue, she¡¯s giggling at me! I¡¯m not a scholar, my dears, but I can feel. Well, face or no face, that¡¯s no great matter, yours is all right for me, and I like it very much. I didn¡¯t mean that. . . . Only be honest, Vanya, be honest. That¡¯s the great thing, live honestly, don¡¯t be conceited! The road lies open before you. Serve your work honestly, that¡¯s what I meant to say; yes, that¡¯s just what I wanted to say!¡±
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