United States or Iraq ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
There Were old folk, young men, and children. No one sat in the front row; but, later on, it was filled by several ladies whom Yourii did not know; by the fat school-inspector; and by masters and mistresses of the elementary school for boys and girls. The rest of the room was full of men in caftans and long coats, soldiers, peasants, women, and a great many children in coloured shirts and frocks.
For some time past Yourii Svarogitsch had been working at painting, of which he was fond, and to which he devoted all his spare time. It had once been his dream to become an artist, but want of money, in the first place, and also his political activity prevented this, so that now he painted occasionally, as a pastime, without any special end in view.
It was the consciousness of a climax, desired, inevitable, and yet disturbing, which should close the page of her past life and commence that of her new one. So new, indeed, that Lialia was to become an entirely different being. To Yourii it was strange that his merry, laughing sister should have become so quiet and pensive.
"If you judge like that," shouted Yourii, his eyes flashing, for he was anxious not to yield in the presence of Sina, though she could only hear his voice, "then we must go back to the origin of all ideas...." "What ought we, then, in your opinion to read?" said the hostile Goschienko. "What you ought to read? Why, Confucius, the Gospels, Ecclesiastes ..."
This annoyed Yourii, and he felt sorry that Schafroff should read so badly. The latter was obviously tired, so Yourii said to Sina: "Suppose I finish reading it for him? What do you say?" Sina shot a kindly glance at him from beneath her drooping eye-lashes. "Oh! yes, do read! I wish you would." "Do you think it will matter?" he whispered, smiling at her as if she were his accomplice. "Matter?
You needn't wear them till we get there." He helped Yourii to divest himself of his shooting-kit and placed them underneath the seat. Then they drove away at a good pace. The day was drawing to a close, but it was still warm and dusty. The droschky swayed from side to side so that Yourii had to hold tightly to the seat.
Then after a pause, she added softly, "and where is Anatole Pavlovitch? I heard you drive up." "Your Anatole Pavlovitch is a dirty beast!" is what Yourii, feeling suddenly incensed, would have liked to say. However, he answered carelessly: "I really don't know. He had to see a patient." "A patient," repeated Lialia mechanically. She said no more, but gazed at the stars.
Yourii watched everything with great interest as he greedily ate large, luscious slices of a ripe melon which Kousma cut off with his pocket- knife that had a yellow bone handle. "Eat, Yourii Nicolaijevitch; this melon's good," he said. "I know your little sister, Ludmilla Nicolaijevna, and your father, too. Eat, and enjoy it."
Riasantzeff said to Yourii: "Old Kousma's a philosopher, eh?" Seated behind, Yourii looked at Riasantzeff's Deck, and roused from his own melancholy thoughts, endeavoured to understand what he said. "Oh!... Yes!" he replied hesitatingly. "I didn't know that Sanine was such a gay dog," laughed Riasantzeff.
Now, after all, Riasantzeff is not to blame for having loved other women before Lialia, but because he still carries on with several; and that is not what I do." The thought made Yourii feel very proud and pure, but only for a moment, for he suddenly recollected his seductive vision of sweet, supple girls in sunlight. He was utterly overwhelmed. His mind became a chaos of conflicting thoughts.
Word Of The Day