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Cлово "MARRIED"

Часть текста: the child grew up entirely in his mother's care. To do Stepan Trofimovitch justice, he knew how to win his pupil's heart. The whole secret of this lay in the fact that he was a child himself. I was not there in those days, and he continually felt the want of a real friend. He did not hesitate to make a friend of this little creature as soon as he had grown a little older. It somehow came to pass quite naturally that there seemed to be no discrepancy of age between them. More than once he awaked his ten- or eleven-year-old friend at night, simply to pour out his wounded feelings and weep before him, or to tell him some family secret, without realising that this was an outrageous proceeding. They threw themselves into each other's arms and wept. The boy knew that his mother loved him very much, but I doubt whether he cared much for her. She talked little to him and did not often interfere with him, but he was always morbidly conscious of her intent, searching eyes fixed upon him. Yet the mother confided his whole instruction and moral education to Stepan Trofimovitch. At that time her faith in him was unshaken. One can't help believing that the tutor had rather a bad influence on his pupil's nerves. When at sixteen he was taken to a lyceum he was fragile-looking and pale, strangely quiet and dreamy. (Later on he was distinguished by great physical strength.) One must assume too that the friends went on weeping at night, throwing themselves in each other's arms, though their tears were not always due to domestic difficulties. Stepan Trofimovitch succeeded in...

2. Dostoevsky. A Raw Youth (English. Подросток). Part II. Chapter VII

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Часть текста: to Liza, and even trying not to look at her. The servant, as though on purpose, was inexpressibly slow in her movements as servants always are when they notice they are preventing people from talking. Liza sat on the chair by the window and watched me. "Your coffee will be cold," she said suddenly. I looked at her: not a trace of embarrassment, perfect tranquillity, and even a smile on her lips. "Such are women," I thought, and could not help shrugging my shoulders. At last the servant had finished lighting the stove and was about to tidy the room, but I turned her out angrily, and at last locked the door. "Tell me, please, why have you locked the door again?" Liza asked. I stood before her. "Liza, I never could have imagined you would deceive me like this!" I exclaimed suddenly, though I had never thought of beginning like that, and instead of being moved to tears, an angry feeling which was quite unexpected stabbed me to the heart. Liza flushed; she did not turn away, however, but still looked straight in my face. "Wait, Liza, wait, oh how...

3. Dostoevsky. The Possessed (English. Бесы). Part I. Chapter V. The subtle serpent

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Часть текста: Timofyevna to a seat in the middle of the room, by a large round table. “Stepan Trofimovitch, what is the meaning of this? See, see, look at this woman, what is the meaning of it?” “I... I...” faltered Stepan Trofimovitch. But a footman came in. “A cup of coffee at once, we must have it as quickly as possible! Keep the horses!” “ Mais, chere et excellente amie, dans quelle inquietude. . .” Stepan Trofimovitch exclaimed in a dying voice. “Ach! French! French! I can see at once that it's the highest society,” cried Marya Timofyevna, clapping her hands, ecstatically preparing herself to listen to a conversation in French. Varvara Petrovna stared at her almost in dismay. We all sat in silence, waiting to see how it would end. Shatov did not lift up his head, and Stepan Trofimovitch was overwhelmed with confusion as though it were all his fault; the perspiration stood out on his temples. I glanced at Liza (she was sitting in the corner almost beside Shatov). Her eyes darted keenly from Varvara Petrovna to the cripple and back again; her lips were drawn into a smile, but not a pleasant one. Varvara Petrovna saw that smile. Meanwhile Marya Timofyevna was absolutely...

4. Dostoevsky. The Possessed (English. Бесы). Part I. Chapter III. The sins of others

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Часть текста: were betrothed or not, and could not find out for a fact, however much he tried. He had not yet seen his future bride, and did not know whether she was to be his bride or not; did not, in fact, know whether there was anything serious in it at all. Varvara Petrovna, for some reason, resolutely refused to admit him to her presence. In answer to one of his first letters to her (and he wrote a great number of them) she begged him plainly to spare her all communications with him for a time, because she was very busy, and having a great deal of the utmost importance to communicate to him she was waiting for a more free moment to do so, and that she would let him know in time when he could come to see her. She declared she would send back his letters unopened, as they were “simple self-indulgence.” I read that letter myself—he showed it me. Yet all this harshness and indefiniteness were nothing compared with his chief anxiety. That anxiety tormented him to the utmost and without ceasing. He grew thin and dispirited through it. It was something of which he was more ashamed than of anything else, and of which he would not on any account speak, even to me; on the contrary, he lied on occasion, and shuffled before me like a little boy; and at the same time he sent for me himself every day, could not stay two hours without me, needing me as much as air or water. Such conduct rather wounded my vanity. I need hardly say that I had long ago privately guessed this great secret of his, and saw through...

5. Dostoevsky. Notes from the Underground (English. Записки из подполья). Part II. Chapter VI

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Часть текста: even while I was unconscious a point seemed continually to remain in my memory unforgotten, and round it my dreams moved drearily. But strange to say, everything that had happened to me in that day seemed to me now, on waking, to be in the far, far away past, as though I had long, long ago lived all that down. My head was full of fumes. Something seemed to be hovering over me, rousing me, exciting me, and making me restless. Misery and spite seemed surging up in me again and seeking an outlet. Suddenly I saw beside me two wide open eyes scrutinising me curiously and persistently. The look in those eyes was coldly detached, sullen, as it were utterly remote; it weighed upon me. A grim idea came into my brain and passed all over my body, as a horrible sensation, such as one feels when one goes into a damp and mouldy cellar. There was something unnatural in those two eyes, beginning to look at me only now. I recalled, too, that during those two hours I had not said a single word to this creature, and had, in fact, considered it utterly superfluous; in fact, the silence had for some reason gratified me. Now I suddenly realised vividly the hideous idea-- revolting as a spider--of vice, which, without love, grossly and shamelessly begins with that in which true love finds its consummation. For a long time we gazed at each other like that, but she did not...

6. Dostoevsky. A Raw Youth (English. Подросток). Part III. Chapter VI

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Часть текста: while you are cringing upon everybody here." "You fool! Aie, let's clink glasses." "You don't even deign to keep up appearances with me: you might at least disguise the fact that you want to make me drunk." "You are talking rot and you're drunk. You must drink some more, and you'll be more cheerful. Take your glass, take it!" "Why do you keep on 'take it'? I am going and that's the end of it." And I really did get up. He was awfully vexed: "It was Trishatov whispered that to you: I saw you whispering. You are a fool for that. Alphonsine is really disgusted if he goes near her. . . . He's a dirty beast, I'll tell you what he's like." "You've told me already. You can talk of nothing but your Alphonsine, you're frightfully limited." "Limited?" he did not understand. "They've gone over now to that pock-marked fellow. That's what it is! That's why I sent them about their business. They're dishonest. That fellow's a blackguard and he's...

7. Dostoevsky. The Insulted and Injured (English. Униженные и оскорбленные). Part I. Chapter VIII

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Часть текста: "You blame me, Vanya?" she said at last. "No... but... but I can't believe it; it cannot be!" I answered, not knowing what I was saying. "Yes, Vanya, it really is so! I have gone away from them and I don't know what will become of them or what will become of me!" "You're going to him, Natasha? Yes?" "Yes," she answered. "But that's impossible!" I cried frantically. "Don't you understand that it's impossible, Natasha, my poor girl! Why, it's madness. Why you'll kill them, and ruin yourself! Do you understand that, Natasha?" "I know; but what am I to do? I can't help it," she said and her voice was as full of anguish as though she were facing the scaffold. "Come back, come back, before it's too late," I besought her; and the more warmly, the more emphatically I implored her, the more I realized the uselessness of my entreaties, and the absurdity of them at that moment. "Do you understand, Natasha, what you are doing to your father? Have you thought of that? You know his father is your father's enemy. Why, the prince has insulted your father, has accused him of stealing money; why, he called him a thief. You know why they've gone to law with one another.... Good heavens! and that's not the worst. Do you know, Natasha (Oh, God, of course you know it all!) ... do you know that the prince suspected your father and mother of having thrown you and Alyosha together on purpose, when Alyosha was staying in the country with you? Think a minute, only fancy...

8. Dostoevsky. The Brothers Karamazov (English. Братья Карамазовы). Part III. Book VIII. Mitya. Chapter 7.The First and Rightful Lover

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Часть текста: suddenly to Grushenka, who had shrunk back in her chair towards Kalganov, and clasped his hand tightly. "I... I'm coming, too. I'm here till morning. Gentlemen, may I stay with you till morning? Only till morning, for the last time, in this same room?" So he finished, turning to the fat little man, with the pipe, sitting on the sofa. The latter removed his pipe from his lips with dignity and observed severely: "Panie,* we're here in private. There are other rooms." * Pan and Panie mean Mr. in Polish. Pani means Mrs., Panovie, gentlemen. "Why, it's you, Dmitri Fyodorovitch! What do you mean?" answered Kalgonov suddenly. "Sit down with us. How are you?" "Delighted to see you, dear... and precious fellow, I always thought a lot of you." Mitya responded, joyfully and eagerly, at once holding out his hand across the table. "Aie! How tight you squeeze! You've quite broken my fingers," laughed Kalganov. "He always squeezes like that, always," Grushenka put in gaily, with a timid smile, seeming suddenly convinced from Mitya's face that he was not going to make a scene. She was watching him with intense curiosity and still some uneasiness. She was impressed by something about him, and indeed the last thing she expected of him was that he would come in and speak like this at such a moment. "Good evening," Maximov ventured blandly on the left. Mitya rushed up to him, too. "Good evening. You're here, too! How glad I am to find you here, too! Gentlemen, gentlemen, I -- " (He addressed the Polish gentleman with the pipe again, evidently taking him for the most important person present.) "I flew here.... I wanted to spend my last day, my last hour in this room, in this very...

9. Dostoevsky. A Gentle Spirit (English. Кроткая)

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Часть текста: Spirit A Fantastic Story by Fyodor Dostoevsky Part I Chapter I Who I was and who she was Oh, while she is still here, it is still all right; I go up and look at her every minute; but tomorrow they will take her away - and how shall I be left alone? Now she is on the table in the drawing-room, they put two card tables together, the coffin will be here tomorrow - white, pure white "gros de Naples" - but that's not it. . . I keep walking about, trying to explain it to myself. I have been trying for the last six hours to get it clear, but still I can't think of it all as a whole. The fact is I walk to and fro, and to and fro. This is how it was. I will simply tell it in order. (Order!) Gentlemen, I am far from being a literary man and you will see that; but no matter, I'll tell it as I understand it myself. The horror of it for me is that I understand it all! It was, if you care to know, that is to take it from the beginning, that she used to come to me simply to pawn things, to pay for advertising in the VOICE to the effect that a governess was quite willing to travel, to give lessons at home, and so on, and so on. That was at the...

10. Dostoevsky. The Idiot (English. Идиот). Part I. Chapter VII

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Часть текста: put you through your paces, and examine you. As to what you said about my face, you are absolutely correct in your judgment. I am a child, and know it. I knew it long before you said so; you have expressed my own thoughts. I think your nature and mine must be extremely alike, and I am very glad of it. We are like two drops of water, only you are a man and I a woman, and I've not been to Switzerland, and that is all the difference between us." "Don't be in a hurry, mother; the prince says that he has some motive behind his simplicity," cried Aglaya. "Yes, yes, so he does," laughed the others. "Oh, don't you begin bantering him," said mamma. "He is probably a good deal cleverer than all three of you girls put together. We shall see. Only you haven't told us anything about Aglaya yet, prince; and Aglaya and I are both waiting to hear." "I cannot say anything at present. I'll tell you afterwards." "Why? Her face is clear enough, isn't it?" "Oh yes, of course. You are very beautiful, Aglaya Ivanovna, so beautiful that one is afraid to look at you." "Is that all? What about her character?" persisted Mrs. Epanchin. "It is difficult to judge when such beauty is concerned. I have not prepared my judgment. Beauty is a riddle." "That means that you have set Aglaya a riddle!" said Adelaida. "Guess it,...

Поиск по творчеству и критикеCлово "MARRIED"

Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "MARRIED"