'He That Filches from Me My Good Name'
5 minutes ago
I.The talk was that a new face had appeared on the embankment: a lady with a little dog. Dmitri Demitrich Gurov, who had already spent two weeks in Yalta and was used to it, also began to take an interest in new faces. Sitting in a pavilion at Vernet's, he saw a young woman, not very tall, blond, in a beret, walking along the embankment; behind her ran a white spitz.
II.A week and passed since they became acquainted. It was Sunday. Inside it was stuffy, but outside the dust flew in whirls, hats blew off. They felt thirsty all day, and Gurov often stopped at the pavilion, offering Anna Sergeeevna now a soft drink, now ice cream. There was no escape.
III.At home in Moscow everything was already wintry, the stoves were heated, and in the morning, when the children were getting ready for school and drinking their tea, it was dark, and the nanny would light a lamp for a short time. The frosts had already set in. When the first snow falls, on the first day of riding in sleighs, it is pleasant to see the white ground, the white roofs; one's breath feels soft and pleasant, and in those moments one remembers one's youth. The old lindens and birches, white with hoarfrost, have a good-natured look, they are nearer one's heart than cypresses and palms, and near them one no longer wants to think of mountains and the sea.
IV.And Anna Sergeevna began coming to see him in Moscow. Once every two or three months she left S., and told her husband she was going to consult a professor about her female disorder--and her husband did and did not believe her. Arriving in Moscow, she stayed at the Slavyansky Bazaar and at once sent a man in a red hat to Gurov. Gurov came to see her, and nobody in Moscow knew of it.
And I Never Found The HeadMy new job as a waiter, and then as headwaiter, was in the mountains above Dêčín. When I first arrived at the hotel, I nearly jumped out of my skin. It wasn't a small hotel, as I'd been expecting, but a small town or a large village surrounded by woods, with hot springs the forest and air so fresh you could have put it in a cup. All you had to do was turn and face the pleasant breeze and drink it in freely, as fish breathe through their gills, and you could hear the oxygen mixed with ozone flowing through your gills' nd your lungs and vital parts would gradually pump up, as though earlier, somewhere down in the valley, long before, you'd got a flat tire, and it was only now, in this air, that you'd got it automatically pumped back up to a pressure that was safer and nicer to drive on.