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Cлово "NECK"

Часть текста: it?" "I took it off my neck, gentlemen, off this very neck... it was here, round my neck, sewn up in a rag, and I'd had it round my neck a long time, it's a month since I put it round my neck... to my shame and disgrace!" "And from whom did you... appropriate it?" "You mean, 'steal it'? Speak out plainly now. Yes, I consider that I practically stole it, but, if you prefer, I 'appropriated it. ' I consider I stole it. And last night I stole it finally." "Last night? But you said that it's a month since you... obtained it?..." "Yes. But not from my father. Not from my father, don't be uneasy. I didn't steal it from my father, but from her. Let me tell you without interrupting. It's hard to do, you know. You see, a month ago, I was sent for by Katerina Ivanovna, formerly my betrothed. Do you know her?" "Yes, of course." "I know you know her. She's a noble creature, noblest of the noble. But she has hated me ever so long, oh, ever so long... and hated me with good reason, good reason!" "Katerina Ivanovna!" Nikolay Parfenovitch exclaimed with wonder. The prosecutor, too, stared. "Oh, don't take her name in vain! I'm a scoundrel to bring her into it. Yes, I've seen that she hated...

2. Dostoevsky. A Raw Youth (English. Подросток). Part I. Chapter III

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Часть текста: that look and that insolent smile without instant protest however stupid it might be. I did not mind about that. Note that she had come expressly to insult me as soon as she could, although she had never seen me. In her eyes I was an "envoy from Versilov," and she was convinced at that time, and for long afterwards, that Versilov held her fate in his hands and could ruin her at once if he wanted to, by means of a certain document; she suspected that, anyway. It was a duel to the death. And yet--I was not offended! It was an insult, but I did not feel it. How should I? I was positively glad of it; though I had come here to hate her I felt I was beginning to love her. I don't know whether the spider perhaps does not hate the fly he has marked and is snaring. Dear little fly! It seems to me that the victim is loved, or at least may be loved. Here I love my enemy; I am delighted, for instance, that she is so beautiful. I am delighted, madam, that you are so haughty and majestic. If you were meeker it would not be so delightful. You have spat on me-- and I am triumphant. If you were literally to spit in my face I should really not be angry because you--are my victim; MINE and not HIS. How fascinating was that idea! Yes, the secret consciousness of power is more insupportably delightful than open domination. If I were a millionaire I believe I should take pleasure in going about in the oldest clothes and being taken for a destitute man, almost a beggar, being jostled and despised. The consciousness of the truth would be enough for me. That is how I should interpret my thoughts and happiness, and much of what I was feeling that day. I will only add that in what I have just written there is too much levity; in reality my feeling was deeper and more modest. Perhaps even now I am more modest in myself than in my words and deeds--God grant it may be so! Perhaps I have done amiss in sitting down to write at all. Infinitely more...

3. Dostoevsky. A Raw Youth (English. Подросток). Part III. Chapter V

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Часть текста: in the frost?" "You heard that. . . from Lambert. . . ." I muttered, reddening. "I heard it all from him at the time; but I've been eager to see you. Oh, he came to me in alarm! At your lodging. . . where you have been lying ill, they would not let him in to see you. . . and they met him strangely. . . I really don't know how it was, but he kept telling me about that night; he told me that when you had scarcely come to yourself, you spoke of me, and. . . and of your devotion to me. I was touched to tears, Arkady Makarovitch, and I don't know how I have deserved such warm sympathy on your part, especially considering the condition in which you were yourself! Tell me, M. Lambert was the friend of your childhood, was he not?" "Yes, but what happened? . . . I confess I was indiscreet, and perhaps I told him then a great deal I shouldn't have." "Oh, I should have heard of that wicked horrible intrigue apart from him! I always had a presentiment that they would drive you to that, always. Tell me, is it true that Buring dared to lift his hand against you?" She spoke as though it were entirely owing to Buring and HER that I had been found under the wall. And she is right too, I thought, but I...

4. Dostoevsky. The Brothers Karamazov (English. Братья Карамазовы). Part IV. Book X. The Boys. Chapter 5. By Ilusha"s Bedside

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Часть текста: and his absence was a heavy load on Ilusha's heart. Perhaps the bitterest of all his bitter memories was his stabbing Krassotkin, who had been his one friend and protector. Clever little Smurov, who was the first to make it up with Ilusha, thought it was so. But when Smurov hinted to Krassotkin that Alyosha wanted to come and see him about something, the latter cut him short, bidding Smurov tell "Karamazov" at once that he knew best what to do, that he wanted no one's advice, and that, if he went to see Ilusha, he would choose his own time for he had "his own reasons." That was a fortnight before this Sunday. That was why Alyosha had not been to see him, as he had meant to. But though he waited he sent Smurov to him twice again. Both times Krassotkin met him with a curt, impatient refusal, sending Alyosha a message not to bother him any more, that if he came himself, he, Krassotkin, would not go to Ilusha at all. Up to the very last day, Smurov did not know that Kolya meant to go to Ilusha that morning, and only the evening before, as he parted from Smurov, Kolya abruptly told him to wait at home for him next morning, for he would go with him to the Snegiryovs, but warned him on no account to say he was coming, as he wanted to drop in casually. Smurov obeyed. Smurov's fancy that Kolya would bring back the lost dog was based on the words Kolya had dropped that "they must be asses not to find the dog, if it was alive." When Smurov, waiting for an opportunity, timidly hinted at his guess about the dog, Krassotkin flew into a violent rage. "I'm not such an ass as to go hunting about...

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

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Часть текста: 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 there'd be a professor. It's this one, probably.” She disdainfully indicated Shatov. “I didn't tell you that there'd be a professor. Mr. G——v is in the service, and Mr. Shatov is a former student.” “A student or professor, they all come from the university just the same. You only want to argue. But the Swiss one had moustaches and a beard.” “It's the son of Stepan Trofimovitch that maman always calls the professor,” said Liza, and she took Shatov away to the sofa at the other end of the drawing-room. “When her legs swell, she's always like this, you understand she's ill,” she whispered to Shatov, still with the same marked curiosity, scrutinising him, especially his shock of...

6. Dostoevsky. The Idiot (English. Идиот). Part II. Chapter IV

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Часть текста: cross. The prince glanced at it, but took no further notice. He moved on hastily, as though anxious to get out of the house. But Rogojin suddenly stopped underneath the picture. "My father picked up all these pictures very cheap at auctions, and so on," he said; "they are all rubbish, except the one over the door, and that is valuable. A man offered five hundred roubles for it last week." "Yes--that's a copy of a Holbein," said the prince, looking at it again, "and a good copy, too, so far as I am able to judge. I saw the picture abroad, and could not forget it--what's the matter?" Rogojin had dropped the subject of the picture and walked on. Of course his strange frame of mind was sufficient to account for his conduct; but, still, it seemed queer to the prince that he should so abruptly drop a conversation commenced by himself. Rogojin did not take any notice of his question. "Lef Nicolaievitch," said Rogojin, after a pause, during which the two walked along a little further, "I have long wished to ask you, do you believe in God?" "How strangely you speak, and how odd you look!" said the other, involuntarily. "I like looking at that picture," muttered Rogojin, not noticing, apparently, that the prince had not answered his question. "That picture! That picture!" cried Muishkin, struck by a sudden idea. "Why, a man's faith might be ruined by looking at that picture!" "So it is!" said Rogojin, unexpectedly. They had now reached the front door. The prince stopped. "How?" he said. "What do you mean? I was half joking, and you took me up quite seriously! Why do you ask me whether I believe in God "Oh, no particular reason. I meant to ask you before--many people are unbelievers nowadays, especially Russians, I have...

7. Dostoevsky. The Brothers Karamazov (English. Братья Карамазовы). Part III. Book IX. The Preliminary Investigation. Chapter 1. The Beginning of Perhotin"s Official Career

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Часть текста: to go to bed, was almost frightened into hysterics on hearing the furious knocking at the gate. Though she had herself seen him drive away, she fancied that it must be Dmitri Fyodorovitch knocking again, no one else could knock so savagely. She ran to the house-porter, who had already waked up and gone out to the gate, and began imploring him not to open it. But having questioned Pyotr Ilyitch, and learned that he wanted to see Fenya on very "important business," the man made up his mind at last to open. Pyotr Ilyitch was admitted into Fenya's kitchen, but the girl begged him to allow the houseporter to be present, "because of her misgivings." He began questioning her and at once learnt the most vital fact, that is, that when Dmitri Fyodorovitch had run out to look for Grushenka, he had snatched up a pestle from the mortar, and that when he returned, the pestle was not with him and his hands were smeared with blood. "And the blood was simply flowing, dripping from him, dripping!" Fenya kept exclaiming. This horrible detail was simply the product of her disordered imagination. But although not "dripping," Pyotr Ilyitch had himself seen those hands stained with blood, and had helped to wash them. Moreover, the question he had to decide was, not how soon the blood had dried, but where Dmitri Fyodorovitch had run with the pestle, or rather, whether it really was to Fyodor Pavlovitch's, and how ...

8. Dostoevsky. A Raw Youth (English. Подросток). Part I. Chapter VII

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Часть текста: though I had done my duty. Had I been ever so little more experienced, I should have had a misgiving that the least doubt in such cases must be taken as a bad sign, but another fact threw me out in my reckoning: I don't know what I was pleased about, but I felt awfully pleased, in spite of my being uncertain, and of my realizing distinctly that I had not come off with flying colours downstairs. Even Tatyana Pavlovna's spiteful abuse of me struck me as funny and amusing and did not anger me at all. Probably all this was because I had anyway broken my chains and for the first time felt myself free. I felt, too, that I had weakened my position: how I was to act in regard to the letter about the inheritance was more obscure than ever. Now it would be certainly taken for granted that I was revenging myself on Versilov. But while all this discussion was going on downstairs I had made up my mind to submit the question of the letter to an impartial outsider and to appeal to Vassin for his decision, or, failing Vassin, to take it to some one else. I had already made up my mind to whom. I would go to see Vassin once, for that occasion only, I thought to myself, and then--then I would vanish for a long while, for some months, from the sight of all, especially of Vassin. Only my mother and sister I might see occasionally. It was all inconsistent and confused; I felt that I had done something, though not in the right way, and I was satisfied: I repeat, I was awfully pleased anyway. I meant to go to bed rather early, foreseeing I should have a lot to do next day. Besides finding a lodging and moving, I had another project which in one way or another I meant to carry out. But the evening was not destined to end without surprises, and Versilov succeeded in astonishing me extremely. He had certainly never been into my attic, and lo and behold, before I had been an hour in my room I heard his footsteps on the ladder: he called to me to...

9. Dostoevsky. Crime and Punishment (English. Преступление и наказание). Part one. Chapter Seven

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Часть текста: Seeing that she was standing in the doorway not allowing him to pass, he advanced straight upon her. She stepped back in alarm, tried to say something, but seemed unable to speak and stared with open eyes at him. "Good evening, Alyona Ivanovna," he began, trying to speak easily, but his voice would not obey him, it broke and shook. "I have come... I have brought something... but we'd better come in... to the light...." And leaving her, he passed straight into the room uninvited. The old woman ran after him; her tongue was unloosed. "Good heavens! What it is? Who is it? What do you want?" "Why, Alyona Ivanovna, you know me... Raskolnikov... here, I brought you the pledge I promised the other day..." and he held out the pledge. The old woman glanced for a moment at the pledge, but at once stared in the eyes of her uninvited visitor. She looked intently, maliciously and mistrustfully. A minute passed; he even fancied something like a sneer in her eyes, as though she had already guessed everything. He felt that he was losing his head, that he was almost frightened, so frightened that if she were to look like that and not say a word for another half minute, he thought he would have run away from her. "Why do you look at me as though you did not know me?" he...

10. Dostoevsky. Crime and Punishment (English. Преступление и наказание). Part three. Chapter Two

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Часть текста: knew that a perfectly novel experience had befallen him, that he had received an impression unlike anything he had known before. At the same time he recognised clearly that the dream which had fired his imagination was hopelessly unattainable- so unattainable that he felt positively ashamed of it, and he hastened to pass to the other more practical cares and difficulties bequeathed him by that "thrice accursed yesterday." The most awful recollection of the previous day was the way he had shown himself "base and mean," not only because he had been drunk, but because he had taken advantage of the young girl's position to abuse her fiance in his stupid jealousy, knowing nothing of their mutual relations and obligations and next to nothing of the man himself. And what right had he to criticise him in that hasty and unguarded manner? Who had asked for his opinion! Was it thinkable that such a creature as Avdotya Romanovna would be marrying an unworthy man for money? So there must be something in him. The lodgings? But after all how could he know the character of the lodgings? He was furnishing a flat... Foo, how despicable it all was! And what justification was it that he was drunk? Such a stupid excuse was even more degrading! In wine is truth, and the truth had all come out, "that is, all the uncleanness of his coarse and envious heart!" And would such a dream ever be permissible to him, Razumihin? What was he beside such a...

Поиск по творчеству и критикеCлово "NECK"

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Cлово "NECK"