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Updated: June 7, 2025
But knowing by experience that Sergei will not leave him in peace, he begins hurriedly: "Well, I brought her home and I told her: 'I can't be your husband, Marka; you are a strong girl, and I am a feeble, sick man. I didn't wish at all to marry you, but my father would force me to marry. He was always saying to me, 'Get married!
We have talked about it more than once already," whispered Marka, freeing herself gently from his arms, and returning to her oar. He began working his pole backward and forward, rapidly and energetically, as if he wished to get rid of the load that weighed on his breast, and cast a shadow over his fine face. Day broke gradually.
We could help other people to live, and they would help us to appease our consciences. Isn't that so, Marsha?" "Yes," said she, with a deep sigh, closing her eyes as if in thought. They remained silent for a while; the water murmured. "He is sickly. He will, perhaps, die soon," said Silan after a time. "Please God it may be soon!" said Marka, as if in prayer, and making the sign of the cross.
"Simply that you came within a week of meeting one of the cleverest men living, a cheerful being whom the Foreign Office is more interested in than any one else in the world. If you should hear again of Constantine Marka, Marker, or Mark, please note it down." "You mean that he is the author of the canard," said Lewis, with sharp eyes, taking up a newspaper. "Yes, and many more.
Get married! I don't like women, I said: and you especially, you are too bold. Yes and I can't have anything to do with it. Do you understand? For me, it disgusts me, and it is a sin. And children one is answerable to God for one's children." "Disgusts," yells Sergei and laughs. "Well! and what did Marka reply? What?" "She said, 'What shall I do now? and then she began to cry.
"You know Bardur and the country about there pretty well?" Lewis nodded. "Also I once talked to you about a man called Marka. Do you remember?" "Yes, of course I do. The man who went north from Bardur the week before I turned up there?" "Well, there's trouble brewing thereabouts. You know the Taghati country up beyond the Russian line.
"Had we that, there are a hundred young men who would have risked their necks there and kept us abreast of our enemies. As it is, we have to wait till news comes by some roundabout channel, while that cheerful being, Marka, keeps the public easy by news of hypothetical private expeditious."
But if matters got into a tangle I would rather not be in his company. Thwaite is a gentlemanlike sort of fellow, but dull-very, while Gribton is the ordinary shrewd commercial man, very cautious and rather timid." "Did you ever happen to hear of a man called Marka? He might call himself Constantine Marka, or Arthur Marker, or the Baron Mark whatever happened to suit him."
A thatch of gray hair fell over his forehead, under which laughed great black, warm eyes. His sleeves, turned up to the elbow, showed the veins standing out on his arms as they held the pole. Silan was leaning slightly forward, and looking watchfully ahead. Marka stood a few paces from him, glancing with a satisfied smile at the strong form of her lover.
Now the good Gribton is coming home, and so he will have the place for a happy hunting-ground." Wratislaw was puffing his under-lip in deep thought. "It is a sweet business," he said. "But what can we do? Only wait?" "Yes, one could wait if Marka were the only disquieting feature. But what about Taghati and the Russian activity?
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