Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 6, 2025
Both looked up, without betraying any surprise, as the Count entered and sat himself down at the end of their oblong table, facing the open window and with his back to the room. A word of greeting passed on each side and the two relapsed into silence, while the Count ordered a sausage "with horse-radish" of the sour-sweet maiden of five-and-thirty who waited on the guests.
"Be calm," he said to Elena. "I'll give you some water in a moment." He gave her a glass containing a fluid as colourless as water. Elena quickly drank the sour-sweet water, and suddenly felt cheerful. Elisaveta also drank it. Elena threw herself towards the mirror. "I'm young again," she exclaimed in a high voice.
So she went on, walking from one room to another, industriously eating the red apple, the biggest she had ever seen. It was the best, too, with its crisp, white flesh and the delicious, sour-sweet juice which made Elizabeth Ann feel with each mouthful like hurrying to take another. She did not think much more of the other rooms in the house than she had of the kitchen.
"Speak to the boy solemnly. It would be almost better he should go back to that little thing he has married." "Almost?" Lady Blandish opened her eyes. "I have been advising it for the last month and more." "A choice of evils," said Mrs. Doria's sour-sweet face and shake of the head. Each lady saw a point of dissension, and mutually agreed, with heroic effort, to avoid it by shutting their mouths.
We read ourselves gradually back to our boyhood in it, and were aware of a flavor in it deliciously local and familiar, a kind of sour-sweet, as in a frozen-thaw apple. From the title to the last line, it is delightfully characteristic.
There was sassafras root in the swamps plenty of it for the digging; there were young winter-green leaves, stinging pleasantly his palate with green aromatic juice; later there would be raspberries and blackberries and huckleberries. There were also the mysterious cedar apples, and the sour-sweet excrescences sometimes found on swamp bushes.
But, like the sour-sweet fragrance of the brier, its wandering desolate burst of music had power to wake memory, and carried him instantly back to that first aimless descent into the evening gloom of Widderstone from which it was in vain to hope ever to climb again.
"Speak to the boy solemnly. It would be almost better he should go back to that little thing he has married." "Almost?" Lady Blandish opened her eyes. "I have been advising it for the last month and more." "A choice of evils," said Mrs. Doria's sour-sweet face and shake of the head. Each lady saw a point of dissension, and mutually agreed, with heroic effort, to avoid it by shutting their mouths.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking