United States or Chad ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Markovna takes a heaped spoonful of jam hesitatingly as though it were a powder, raises it to her lips, and with a sidelong look at Pavel Vassilitch, eats it; at once her face is overspread with a sweet smile, as sweet as the jam itself. "The jam is particularly good," she says. "Did you make it yourself, Pelageya Ivanovna, ma'am?" "Yes. Who else is there to do it? I do everything myself.
The broad figure of Nikolay stood before her like a shadow, his narrow eyes had a cold, cruel look, and he wrung his right hand as if it had been hurt. When Pavel and Andrey came to dinner, her first question was: "Well? Did they arrest anybody for Isay's murder?" "We haven't heard anything about it," answered the Little Russian. She saw that they were both downhearted and sullen.
'No ... Mr. Kirsanov has gone to the fields ... besides, I'm not afraid of him ... but Pavel Petrovitch ... I fancied ... 'What? 'I fancied he was coming here. No ... it was no one. Take it. Fenitchka gave Bazarov the rose. 'On what grounds are you afraid of Pavel Petrovitch? 'He always scares me. And I know you don't like him. Do you remember, you always used to quarrel with him?
Don't you do as much talking as every one else? 'Whatever faults we have, we do not err in that way, Bazarov muttered between his teeth. 'What, then? Do you act, or what? Are you preparing for action? Bazarov made no answer. Something like a tremor passed over Pavel Petrovitch, but he at once regained control of himself. 'Hm! ... Action, destruction ... he went on.
'O Lord! groaned Shubin, rolling his eyes upwards; and Bersenyev smiled quietly. The girl stamped with her little foot. 'Pavel Yakovlitch, I shall be angry! Helene was coming with me, she went on, 'but she stopped in the garden. The heat frightened her, but I am not afraid of the heat. Come along.
Bazarov raised his head and saw Pavel Petrovitch. Dressed in a light check jacket and snow-white trousers, he was walking rapidly along the road; under his arm he carried a box wrapped up in green cloth.
Arkady had spoken the truth; Pavel Petrovitch had more than once helped his brother; more than once, seeing him struggling and cudgelling his brains, at a loss which way to turn, Pavel Petrovitch moved deliberately to the window, and with his hands thrust into his pockets, muttered between his teeth, 'mais je puis vous de l'argent, and gave him money; but to-day he had none himself, and he preferred to go away.
The village policeman, Fedyakin, appeared at the bedside of the mother, and, raising one hand to his cap, pointed the other at her face and, making terrible eyes, said: "This is his mother, your honor!" Then, waving his hand toward Pavel: "And this is he himself."
When the mother opened the door for her she threw a little yellow valise on the floor, and quickly seizing Vlasova's hand, asked: "Are you the mother of Pavel Mikhaylovich?" "Yes, I am," the mother replied, embarrassed by the lady's rich appearance. "That's the way I imagined you," said the lady, removing her hat in front of the mirror. "We have been friends of Pavel Mikhaylovich a long time.
It seemed as though she were ashamed of having come in, and at the same time felt that she had a right to come. Pavel Petrovitch knitted his brows severely, while Nikolai Petrovitch looked embarrassed. 'Good morning, Fenitchka, he muttered through his teeth.
Word Of The Day