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102GAIN
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378GANIA
165GARDEN
120GATE
60GATHERED
290GAVE
61GAVRILA
66GAZE
127GAZED
87GAZING
905GENERAL
267GENERALE
73GENERALLY
73GENERATION
90GENEROUS
209GENTE
75GENTLE
205GENTLEMAN
416GENTLEMEN
75GENUINE
187GERMAN
146GESTO
71GESTURE
520GET
179GETTING
63GIFT
79GIORNO
386GIRL
551GIVE
225GIVEN
120GIVING
180GLAD
123GLANCE
79GLANCED
178GLASS
64GLEAM
474GLI
99GLOOMY
677GOD
78GOES
546GOING
109GOLD
830GOLJADKIN
84GOLPE
69GOLPES
803GOLYADKIN
267GONE
847GOOD
97GOODNESS
74GOSSIP
461GOT
88GOVERNMENT
98GOVERNOR
103GRACIA
65GRADO
65GRADUALLY
308GRAN
111GRAND
121GRANDE
109GRANDES
126GRANDFATHER
136GRANDMOTHER
67GRANT
57GRASP
65GRATEFUL
59GRATITUDE
112GRAVE
646GREAT
70GREATER
93GREATEST
92GREATLY
85GREEN
113GREW
84GREY
91GRIEF
103GRIER
226GRIEUX
191GRIGORI
193GRIGORY
227GRITO
95GRITOS
147GROUND
66GROUP
78GROW
75GROWING
109GROWN
415GRUCHEGNKA
70GRUPO
367GRUSHENKA
93GUARD
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73GUESS
105GUESSED
145GUEST
111GUILTY
165GULDEN
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по слову GAIETY

1. Dostoevsky. The Possessed (English. Бесы). Part II. Chapter V. On the eve op the fete
Входимость: 2. Размер: 60кб.
Часть текста: to bustle, announced aloud with a complacent air that he would agreeably astonish every one when the literary quadrille began. An extraordinary multitude of donors and subscribers had turned up, all the select society of the town; but even the unselect were admitted, if only they produced the cash. Yulia Mihailovna observed that sometimes it was a positive duty to allow the mixing of classes, “for otherwise who is to enlighten them?” A private drawing-room committee was formed, at which it was decided that the fete was to be of a democratic character. The enormous list of subscriptions tempted them to lavish expenditure. They wanted to do something on a marvellous scale—that's why it was put off. They were still undecided where the ball was to take place, whether in the immense house belonging to the marshal's wife, which she was willing to give up to them for the day, or at Varvara Petrovna's mansion at Skvoreshniki. It was rather a distance to Skvoreshniki, but many of the committee were of opinion that it would be “freer” there. Varvara Petrovna would dearly have liked it to have been in her house. It's difficult to understand why this proud woman seemed almost making up to Yulia Mihailovna. Probably what pleased her was that the latter in her turn seemed almost fawning upon Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch and was more gracious to him than to anyone. I repeat again that Pyotr Stepanovitch was always, in continual...
2. Dostoevsky. The Possessed (English. Бесы). Part III. Chapter II. The end of the fete
Входимость: 1. Размер: 70кб.
Часть текста: take it to her to-morrow, if you like, now merci.” “Stepan Trofimovitch, I assure you that the matter is more serious than you think. Do you think that you've crushed some one there? You've pulverised no one, but have broken yourself to pieces like an empty bottle.” (Oh, I was coarse and discourteous;. I remember it with regret.) “You've absolutely no reason to write to Darya Pavlovna. . . and what will you do with yourself without me? What do you understand about practical life? I expect you are plotting something else? You'll simply come to grief again if you go plotting something more. . . .” He rose and came close up to the door. “You've not been long with them, but you've caught the infection of their tone and language. Dieu vous pardonne, mon ami, et Dieu vous garde. But I've always seen in you the germs of delicate feeling, and you will get over it perhaps— apres le temps, of course, like all of us Russians. As for what you say about my impracticability, I'll remind you of a recent idea of mine: a whole mass of people in Russia do nothing whatever but attack other people's impracticability with the utmost fury and with the tiresome persistence of flies- in the summer, accusing every one of it except themselves Cher, remember that I am excited, and don't distress me. Once more merci for everything, and let us part like Karmazinov and the public; that is, let us forget each other with as much generosity as we can. He was posing in begging his former readers so earnestly to forget him; quant a moi, I am not so conceited, and I rest my hopes on the youth of your inexperienced heart. How should you remember a useless old man for long? 'Live more,' my friend, as Nastasya wished me on my last name-day (ces pauvres gens ont quelquefois ...
3. Dostoevsky. The Insulted and Injured (English. Униженные и оскорбленные). Part III. Chapter I
Входимость: 1. Размер: 17кб.
Часть текста: gate of the house where Natasha lodged, and I fancied that it was the prince's carriage. The entry was across the courtyard. As soon as I began to mount the stairs I heard, a flight above me, someone carefully feeling his way, evidently unfamiliar with the place. I imagined this must be the prince, but I soon began to doubt it. The stranger kept grumbling and cursing the stairs as he climbed up, his language growing stronger and more violent as he proceeded. Of course the staircase was narrow, filthy, steep, and never lighted; but the language I heard on the third floor was such that I could not believe it to be the prince: the ascending gentleman was swearing like a cabman. But there was a glimmer of light on the third floor; a little lamp was burning at Natasha's door. I overtook the stranger at the door, and what was my astonishment when I recognized him as Prince Valkovsky! I fancied he was extremely annoyed at running up against me so unexpectedly. At the first moment he did not recognize me, but suddenly his whole face changed. His first glance of anger and hatred relaxed into an affable, good-humoured expression, and he held out both hands to me with extraordinary delight. "Ach, that's you! And I was just about to kneel down to thank God my life was safe! Did you hear me swearing?" And he laughed in the most good-natured way. But...
4. Dostoevsky. A Raw Youth (English. Подросток). Part III. Chapter XI
Входимость: 1. Размер: 45кб.
Часть текста: of course. I positively scared Alphonsine and him for the first minute. I have always noticed that even the most profligate, most degraded Frenchmen are in their domestic life extremely given to a sort of bourgeois routine, a sort of very prosaic daily ceremonial of life established once and for ever. Lambert quickly realised, however, that something had happened, and was delighted that I had come to him at last, and that I was IN HIS CLUTCHES. He had been thinking of nothing else day and night! Oh, how badly he needed me! And behold now, when he had lost all hope, I had suddenly appeared of my own accord, and in such a frantic state--just in the state which suited him. "Lambert, wine!" I cried: "let's drink, let's have a jolly time. Alphonsine, where's your guitar?" I won't describe the scene, it's unnecessary. We drank, and I told him all about it, everything. He listened greedily. I openly of my own accord suggested a plot, a general flare-up. To begin with, we were by letter to ask Katerina Nikolaevna to come to us. . . . "That's possible," Lambert assented, gloating over every word I said. Secondly, we must send a copy of the "document" in...
5. Dostoevsky. Poor Folk (English. Бедные люди). Page 4
Входимость: 1. Размер: 47кб.
Часть текста: 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, too, they would plague about the woman, for I was as young as they. What a figure I must have cut with them on the fourth tier of the gallery! Yet, I never got a sight of more than just a corner of the curtain, but had to content myself with listening. She had a fine, resounding, mellow voice like a nightingale's, and we all of us used to clap our hands loudly, and to shout at the top of our lungs. In short, we came very near to being ejected. On the first occasion I went home walking as in a mist, with a single rouble left in my pocket, and an interval of ten clear days confronting me before next pay-day. Yet, what think you, dearest? The very next day, before going to work, I called at a French perfumer's, and spent my whole remaining capital on ...

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