Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 1, 2025
From that moment of the discovery of her love, Irina was changed. She, who before had been proud and cruel, became at once as docile as a lamb, as soft as silk, and boundlessly kind. "Ah, love me, love me, my sweet, my saviour," she would whisper to him, with her arms about his neck.
Five minutes later he returned to that door in a state of yet greater bewilderment; for both rooms were empty of occupants. Sergius and Irina were gone; but, as their belongings were scattered about in the usual untidiness, Ivan argued return.
The idea had been born in him through some mention of the date by Irina, and a casual regret that their recent contribution towards Burevsky's new chemical outfit must preclude any hope of even the simplest celebration. Whether her speech had been ingenuous or not, it did not occur to Ivan to inquire, so pleased was he at thought of an opportunity of doing something for his new friends at last.
Irina held out both hands to him; Litvinov clasped them warmly, and did not at once let them go. Something that long had not been secretly stirred in his heart at that soft contact.... They fell into conversation, he learning from her something of her life, she extracting from him in fragments the details of his career.
Litvinov made haste to drink off his glass of milk, paid for it, and, putting his hat on, was just making off past the party of generals... "Grigory Mihalovitch," he heard a woman's voice, "don't you recognise me?" He stopped involuntarily. That voice... that voice had too often set his heart beating in the past... He turned round and saw Irina.
These three feelings warred within him, and the little force of good fought valiantly and well. But, unhappily, Joseph had always regarded the promptings of conscience as unwarrantable and unnecessary; and that inner voice, so often stifled, had grown weak. Irina was now beside him, the fragrance of her personality stealing upon him with all its accustomed magnetism.
That very evening Irina sent him a message, asking him to come and see her, and, in spite of all his determinations, he went. She saw him alone in a room in one of the best hotels in Baden.
Then everything was transformed in one day. Worn out by this cold torture, Litvinov was one night about to depart in despair. Without saying good-bye, he began to look for his hat. "Stay," sounded suddenly in a soft whisper. With throbbing heart he looked round, hardly believing his ears. Before him he saw Irina, transformed. "Stay," she repeated; "don't go. I want to be with you."
Suddenly, commanding her, he flung his canvas on the easel, seized his charcoal, and, completely misconstruing his own sensations, began to draw her as she stood. The work of that hour was inspirational. In it, he accomplished more than was done in the succeeding month. In the very beginning he managed, unconsciously, to make Irina respect his talent.
It is here! I am a true artist now. Now, too, I am a man. Irina! Irina!" And, alas! Joseph fully believed himself! He never knew that, had he been in truth an artist now, those last words of his would have been: "My work! My work!"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking