Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 9, 2025
'I must ask you to look after my brother, Nikolai Petrovitch said to him, 'till we get another doctor from the town. Bazarov nodded his head without speaking. In an hour's time Pavel Petrovitch was already lying in bed with a skilfully bandaged leg. The whole house was alarmed; Fenitchka fainted.
'It seems not everything. You try to read a little. 'But I don't understand anything here. Is it Russian? asked Fenitchka, taking the heavily bound book in both hands. 'How thick it is! 'Yes, it's Russian. 'All the same, I shan't understand anything. 'Well, I didn't give it you for you to understand it. I wanted to look at you while you were reading.
He threw himself on the sofa, clasped his hands behind his head, and remained without moving, looking with a face almost of despair at the ceiling. Whether he wanted to hide from the very walls that which was reflected in his face, or for some other reason, he got up, drew the heavy window curtains, and again threw himself on the sofa. On the same day Bazarov made acquaintance with Fenitchka.
Mitya, as fresh and ruddy as his father, in nothing but his little shirt, was frisking on his shoulder, catching the big buttons of his rough country coat with his little bare toes. Fenitchka simply flung herself upon him, and clasping him and her son together in her arms, dropped her head on his shoulder.
Nikolai Petrovitch was surprised; Fenitchka, the reserved and staid Fenitchka, had never given him a caress in the presence of a third person. 'What's the matter? he said, and, glancing at his brother, he gave her Mitya. 'You don't feel worse? he inquired, going up to Pavel Petrovitch. He buried his face in a cambric handkerchief. 'No ... not at all ... on the contrary, I am much better.
The prolonged absence of his son had begun to make Nikolai Petrovitch uneasy; he uttered a cry of joy, and bounced about on the sofa, dangling his legs, when Fenitchka ran to him with sparkling eyes, and informed him of the arrival of the 'young gentlemen'; even Pavel Petrovitch was conscious of some degree of agreeable excitement, and smiled condescendingly as he shook hands with the returned wanderers.
How can such things be said?... 'Fenitchka, said Pavel Petrovitch, in a sorrowful voice, 'you know I saw ... 'What did you see? 'Well, there ... in the arbour. Fenitchka crimsoned to her hair and to her ears. 'How was I to blame for that? she articulated with an effort. Pavel Petrovitch raised himself up. 'You were not to blame? No? Not at all?
Nikolai the wonder-worker; a tiny porcelain egg hung by a red ribbon from the protruding gold halo down to the saint's breast; by the windows greenish glass jars of last year's jam carefully tied down could be seen; on their paper covers Fenitchka herself had written in big letters 'Gooseberry'; Nikolai Petrovitch was particularly fond of that preserve.
'Certainly, answered Fenitchka; 'how much do you desire them to buy? 'Oh, half a pound will be enough, I imagine. You have made a change here, I see, he added, with a rapid glance round him, which glided over Fenitchka's face too. 'The curtains here, he explained, seeing she did not understand him.
When he heard of Bazarov's going, Pavel Petrovitch expressed a desire to see him, and shook his hand. But even then he remained as cold as ice; he realised that Pavel Petrovitch wanted to play the magnanimous. He did not succeed in saying good-bye to Fenitchka; he only exchanged glances with her at the window. Her face struck him as looking dejected.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking