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Часть текста: pleasure. Yet somehow I feel depressed when I read it, for I seem now to have grown twice as old as I was when I penned its concluding lines. Ah, Makar Alexievitch, how weary I am--how this insomnia tortures me! Convalescence is indeed a hard thing to bear! B. D. ONE UP to the age of fourteen, when my father died, my childhood was the happiest period of my life. It began very far away from here- in the depths of the province of Tula, where my father filled the position of steward on the vast estates of the Prince P--. Our house was situated in one of the Prince's villages, and we lived a quiet, obscure, but happy, life. A gay little child was I--my one idea being ceaselessly to run about the fields and the woods and the garden. No one ever gave me a thought, for my father was always occupied with business affairs, and my mother with her housekeeping. Nor did any one ever give me any lessons--a circumstance for which I was not sorry. At earliest dawn I would hie me to a pond or a copse, or to a hay or a harvest field, where the sun could warm me, and I could roam wherever I liked, and scratch my hands with bushes, and tear my clothes in pieces. For this I used to get blamed afterwards, but I did not care. Had it befallen me never to quit that village--had it befallen me to remain for ever in that spot--I should always have been happy; but fate ordained that I should leave my birthplace even before my girlhood had come to an end. In short, I was only twelve years old when we removed to St. Petersburg. Ah! how it hurts me to recall the mournful gatherings before our departure, and to recall how bitterly I wept when the time came for us to say farewell to all that I had held so dear! I remember throwing...

2. Dostoevsky. Poor Folk (English. Бедные люди). Page 3

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Часть текста: that. Happy and light-hearted though I was, there were moments, even at the height of my felicity, when, for some unknown reason, depression came sweeping over my soul. I kept weeping about trifles, yet could not say why I was grieved. The truth is that I am unwell--so much so, that I look at everything from the gloomy point of view. The pale, clear sky, the setting sun, the evening stillness--ah, somehow I felt disposed to grieve and feel hurt at these things; my heart seemed to be over-charged, and to be calling for tears to relieve it. But why should I write this to you? It is difficult for my heart to express itself; still more difficult for it to forego self- expression. Yet possibly you may understand me. Tears and laughter! . . . How good you are, Makar Alexievitch! Yesterday you looked into my eyes as though you could read in them all that I was feeling--as though you were rejoicing at my happiness. Whether it were a group of shrubs or an alleyway or a vista of water that we were passing, you would halt before me, and stand gazing at my face as though you were showing me possessions of your own. It told me how kind is your nature, and I love you for it. Today I am again unwell, for yesterday I wetted my feet, and took a chill. Thedora also is unwell; both of us are ailing. Do not forget me. Come and see me as often as you can. --Your own, BARBARA ALEXIEVNA. June 12th. MY DEAREST BARBARA ALEXIEVNA--I had supposed that you meant to describe our doings of the other day in verse; yet from you there has arrived only a single sheet of writing. Nevertheless, I must say that, little though you have put into your letter, that little is not expressed with rare beauty and grace. Nature, your...

3. Dostoevsky. The Possessed (English. Бесы). Part I. Chapter IV. The cripple

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Часть текста: also going to make my first call. They were all, that is Liza, her mother, and Mavriky Nikolaevitch, sitting in the big drawing-room, arguing. The mother was asking Liza to play some waltz on the piano, and as soon as Liza began to play the piece asked for, declared it was not the right one. Mavriky Nikolaevitch in the simplicity of his heart took Liza's part, maintaining that it was the right waltz. The elder lady was so angry that she began to cry. She was ill and walked with difficulty. Her legs were swollen, and for the last few days she had been continually fractious, quarrelling with every one, though she always stood rather in awe of Liza. They were pleased to see us. Liza flushed with pleasure, and saying “ merci ” to me, on Shatov's account of course, went to meet him, looking at him with interest. Shatov stopped awkwardly in the doorway. Thanking him for coming she led him up to her mother. “This is Mr. Shatov, of whom I have told you, and this is Mr. G——v, a great friend of mine and of Stepan Trofimovitch's. Mavriky Nikolaevitch made his acquaintance yesterday, too.” “And which is the professor?” “There's no professor at all, maman.” “But there is. You said yourself that...

4. Dostoevsky. The Brothers Karamazov (English. Братья Карамазовы)

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Часть текста: Chapter 4. The Third Son, Alyosha Chapter 5. Elders Book II. An Unfortunate Gathering Chapter 1. They Arrive at the Monastery Chapter 2. The Old Buffoon Chapter 3. Peasant Women Who Have Faith Chapter 4. A Lady of Little Faith Chapter 5. So Be It! So Be It! Chapter 6. Why Is Such a Man Alive? Chapter 7. A Young Man Bent on a Career Chapter 8. The Scandalous Scene Book III. The Sensualists Chapter 1. In the Servants" Quarters Chapter 2. Lizaveta Chapter 3. The Confession of a Passionate Heart -- in Verse Chapter 4. The Confession of a Passionate Heart -- In Anecdote Chapter 5. The Confession of a Passionate Heart -- "Heels Up" Chapter 6. Smerdyakov Chapter 7. The Controversy Chapter 8. Over the Brandy Chapter 9. The Sensualists Chapter 10. Both Together Chapter 11. Another Reputation Ruined Part II Book IV. Lacerations Chapter 1. Father Ferapont Chapter 2. At His Father"s Chapter 3. A Meeting with the Schoolboys Chapter 4. At the Hohlakovs" Chapter 5. A Laceration in the Drawing-Room Chapter 6. A Laceration in the Cottage Chapter 7. And in the Open Air Book V. Pro and Contra Chapter 1. The Engagement Chapter 2. Smerdyakov with a Guitar Chapter 3. The Brothers Make Friends Chapter 4. Rebellion Chapter 5. The Grand Inquisitor Chapter 6. For Awhile a Very Obscure One Chapter 7. "It"s Always Worth While Speaking to a Clever Man" Book VI. The Russian Monk Chapter 1. Father Zossima and His Visitors Chapter 2. Recollections of Father Zossima"s Youth before he became a Monk. The Duel Chapter 3. Conversations and Exhortations of Father Zossima Part III Book VII. Alyosha Chapter 1. The Breath of Corruption Chapter 2. A Critical Moment Chapter 3. An Onion Chapter 4. Cana of Galilee Book VIII. Mitya Chapter 1. Kuzma Samsonov Chapter 2. Lyagavy Chapter 3. Gold Mines Chapter 4. In the Dark Chapter 5. A Sudden Resolution Chapter ...

5. Dostoevsky. The Possessed (English. Бесы). Part III. Chapter VII. Stepan Trofimovitch's last wandering

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Часть текста: CHAPTER VII. STEPAN TROFIMOVITCH'S LAST WANDERING I am persuaded that Stepan Trofimovitch was terribly frightened as he felt the time fixed for his insane enterprise drawing near. I am convinced that he suffered dreadfully from terror, especially on the night before he started—that awful night. Nastasya mentioned afterwards that he had gone to bed late and fallen asleep. But that proves nothing; men sentenced to death sleep very soundly, they say, even the night before their execution. Though he set off by daylight, when a nervous man is always a little more confident (and the major, Virginsky's relative, used to give up believing in God every morning when the night was over), yet I am convinced he could never, without horror, have imagined himself alone on the high road in such a position. No doubt a certain desperation in his feelings softened at first the terrible sensation of sudden solitude in which he at once found himself as soon as he had left Nastasya, and the corner in which he had been warm and snug for twenty years. But it made no difference; even with the clearest recognition of all the horrors awaiting him he would have gone out to the high road and walked along it! There was something ...

6. Dostoevsky. Crime and Punishment (English. Преступление и наказание). Part four. Chapter Four

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Часть текста: answered Raskolnikov and he walked into the tiny entry. On a broken chair stood a candle in a battered copper candlestick. "It's you! Good heavens!" cried Sonia weakly and she stood rooted to the spot. "Which is your room? This way?" and Raskolnikov, trying not to look at her, hastened in. A minute later Sonia, too, came in with the candle, set down the candlestick and, completely disconcerted, stood before him inexpressibly agitated and apparently frightened by his unexpected visit. The colour rushed suddenly to her pale face and tears came into her eyes... She felt sick and ashamed and happy, too.... Raskolnikov turned away quickly and sat on a chair by the table. He scanned the room in a rapid glance. It was a large but exceeding low-pitched room, the only one let by the Kapernaumovs, to whose rooms a closed door led in the wall on the left. In the opposite side on the right hand wall was another door, always kept locked. That led to the next flat, which formed a separate lodging. Sonia's room looked like a barn; it was a very irregular quadrangle and this gave it a grotesque appearance. A wall with three windows looking out on to the canal ran aslant so that one corner formed a very acute angle, and it was difficult to see in it without very strong light. The other corner was disproportionately obtuse. There was scarcely any furniture in the big room: in the corner on the right was a bedstead, beside it, nearest the door, a chair. A plain, deal table covered by a blue cloth stood against the same wall, close to the door into the other flat. Two rush-bottom chairs stood by the table. On the opposite wall near the acute angle stood a small plain wooden chest of drawers looking, as it were, lost in a desert. That was all there was in the room. The yellow, scratched and shabby wall-paper was black in the corners. It must have...

7. Dostoevsky. Poor Folk (English. Бедные люди). Page 4

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Часть текста: we have both been caught playing the fool, for I have become thoroughly bitten with the actress of whom I spoke. Last night I listened to her with all my ears, although, strangely enough, it was practically my first sight of her, seeing that only once before had I been to the theatre. In those days I lived cheek by jowl with a party of five young men--a most noisy crew- and one night I accompanied them, willy-nilly, to the theatre, though I held myself decently aloof from their doings, and only assisted them for company's sake. How those fellows talked to me of this actress! Every night when the theatre was open, the entire band of them (they always seemed to possess the requisite money) would betake themselves to that place of entertainment, where they ascended to the gallery, and clapped their hands, and repeatedly recalled the actress in question. In fact, they went simply mad over her. Even after we had returned home they would give me no rest, but would go on talking about her all night, and calling her their Glasha, and declaring themselves to be in love with "the canary-bird of their hearts." My defenseless self,...

8. Dostoevsky. The Insulted and Injured (English. Униженные и оскорбленные). Part II. Chapter III

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Часть текста: her the day before, and by daylight she surprised me more than ever. And, indeed, it would have been difficult to have found a stranger or more original creature - in appear- ance, anyway. With her flashing black eyes, which looked somehow foreign, her thick, dishevelled, black hair, and her mute, fixed, enigmatic gaze, the little creature might well have attracted the notice of anyone who passed her in the street. The expression in her eyes was particularly striking. There was the light of intelligence in them, and at the same time an inquisitorial mistrust, even suspicion. Her dirty old frock looked even more hopelessly tattered by daylight. She seemed to me to be suffering from some wasting, chronic disease that was gradually and relentlessly destroying her. Her pale, thin face had an unnatural sallow, bilious tinge. But in spite of all the ugliness of poverty and illness, she was positively pretty. Her eyebrows were strongly marked, delicate and beautiful. Her broad, rather low brow was particularly beautiful, and her lips were exquisitely formed with a peculiar proud bold line, but they were pale and colourless. "Ah, you again!" I cried. "Well, I thought you'd come! Come in!" She came in, stepping through the doorway slowly just as before, and looking about her mistrustfully. She looked care- fully round the room where her grandfather had lived, as though noting how far it had ...

9. Dostoevsky. The Possessed (English. Бесы)

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Часть текста: astray. What a number! Whither drift they? What's the mournful dirge they sing? Do they hail a witch's marriage Or a goblin's burying?” A. Pushkin. “And there was one herd of many swine feeding on this mountain; and they besought him that he would suffer them to enter into them. And he suffered them. “Then went the devils out of the man and entered into the swine; and the herd ran violently down a steep place into the lake and were choked. “When they that fed them saw what was done, they fled, and went and told it in the city and in the country. “Then they went out to see what was done; and came to Jesus and found the man, out of whom the devils were departed, sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind; and they were afraid.” Luke, ch. viii. 32-37. PART I CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTORY SOME DETAILS OF THE BIOGRAPHY OF THAT HIGHLY RESPECTED GENTLEMAN STEFAN TEOFIMOVITCH VERHOVENSKY. IN UNDERTAKING to describe the recent and strange incidents in our town, till lately wrapped in uneventful obscurity, I find' myself forced in absence of literary skill to begin my story rather far back, that is to say, with certain biographical details concerning that talented and highly-esteemed gentleman, Stepan Trofimovitch Verhovensky. I trust that these details may at least serve as an introduction, while my projected story itself will come later. I will say at once that Stepan Trofimovitch had always filled a particular role among us, that of the progressive patriot, so to say, and he was passionately fond of playing the part—so much so that I really believe he could not have existed without it. Not that I would put him on a level with an actor at a theatre, God forbid, for I really have a...

10. Dostoevsky. The Brothers Karamazov (English. Братья Карамазовы). Part II. Book VI. The Russian Monk. Chapter 1. Father Zossima and His Visitors

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Часть текста: his face was bright and cheerful, he was surrounded by visitors and engaged in a quiet and joyful conversation. But he had only got up from his bed a quarter of an hour before Alyosha's arrival; his visitors had gathered together in his cell earlier, waiting for him to wake, having received a most confident assurance from Father Paissy that "the teacher would get up, and as he had himself promised in the morning, converse once more with those dear to his heart." This promise and indeed every word of the dying elder Father Paissy put implicit trust in. If he had seen him unconscious, if he had seen him breathe his last, and yet had his promise that he would rise up and say good-bye to him, he would not have believed perhaps even in death, but would still have expected the dead man to recover and fulfil his promise. In the morning as he lay down to sleep, Father Zossima had told him positively: "I shall not die without the delight of another conversation with you, beloved of my heart. I shall look once more on your dear face and pour out my heart to you once again." The monks, who had gathered for this probably last conversation with Father Zossima, had all been his devoted friends for many years. There were four of them: Father Iosif and Father Paissy, Father Mihail the warden of the hermitage, a man not very old and far from being learned. He was of humble origin, of strong will and steadfast faith, of austere appearance, but of deep tenderness, though he...

Поиск по творчеству и критикеCлово "BOOK"

Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "BOOK"