United States or Oman ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Masha held my hand, my heart felt light, and I had no inclination to talk about love; we had become closer and more akin now that we were married, and we felt that nothing now could separate us. "Your sister is a nice creature," said Masha, "but it seems as though she had been tormented for years. Your father must be a terrible man."
Lutchkov still did not stir from his place, and slowly followed the couples with his eyes, as they whirled by. Some one touched his sleeve... he looked round; his neighbour pointed him out Masha. She was standing before him with downcast eyes, holding out her hand to him.
Fyodor Fedoritch was continually glancing at Masha, as though giving her to understand that he would carry out her behests; Masha felt at once vexed with herself, and happy and uncomfortable.
Tell Grandmother that I have gone to bed to be up early in the morning, and I pray you bless me in your thoughts, do you hear?" "I hear," he said absently, as he pressed her hand and went out in search of Masha. He looked forward with anxiety to Vera's awakening. He seemed to have forgotten his own passion since his imagination had become absorbed in the contemplation of her suffering.
From the time of my earliest recollection I can remember Masha an inmate of our house, yet never until the occurrence of which I am going to speak an occurrence which entirely altered my impression of her had I bestowed the smallest attention upon her. She was twenty-five years old, while I was but fourteen. Also, she was very beautiful.
Instead of that, she was suddenly aware of Avdey's rough moustaches on her cheek.... 'Let us be happy, he was whispering: 'there's no other happiness on earth! Masha shuddered, darted horror-stricken on one side, and pale all over, stopped short, one hand leaning on a birch-tree. Avdey was terribly confused. 'Excuse me, he muttered, approaching her, 'I didn't expect really...
Nikitin smiled affably and helped Masha to look after their guests, but after dinner he went to his study and shut the door. The March sun was shining brightly in at the windows and shedding its warm rays on the table. It was only the twentieth of the month, but already the cabmen were driving with wheels, and the starlings were noisy in the garden.
And looking with emotion at the dress, admiring that patch of grey simply because she liked it, I went on tenderly: "A charming, exquisite dress! Splendid, glorious, Masha! My precious Masha!" And tears dropped on the fashion plate. "Splendid Masha . . ." I muttered; "sweet, precious Masha. . . ." She went to bed, while I sat another hour looking at the illustrations.
Masha heaved a sigh from the bottom of her heart, and then felt panic-stricken at his departure. What was it fretting her? Love or curiosity? God knows; but, we repeat, curiosity alone was enough to ruin Eve. Long Meadow was the name of a wide, level stretch of ground on the right of the little stream Sniezhinka, nearly a mile from the Perekatovs' property.
It was not desire, nor ecstacy, nor enjoyment that Masha excited in me, but a painful though pleasant sadness. It was a sadness vague and undefined as a dream. For some reason I felt sorry for myself, for my grandfather and for the Armenian, even for the girl herself, and I had a feeling as though we all four had lost something important and essential to life which we should never find again.
Word Of The Day