BY MIKHAIL PETROVICH ARTSYBASHEV — I. Gabriel Andersen, the teacher, walked to the edge of the school garden, where he paused, undecided what to do. Off in the distance, two miles away, the woods hung like bluish lace —> Prosegui lettura >>
ANTON CHEKHOV – The passenger of the first class, who had just finished dinner, in the railway station, was a trifle drowsy; he lay down upon the velvet sofa, stretched himself out with a grunt —> Prosegui lettura >>
ANTON CHEKHOV – “What shall I write ? ” asked Yegor, dipping his pen in the ink. Vasilissa had not seen her daughter for four years. Efimia had gone away to St. Petersburg with her —> Prosegui lettura >>
FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY – The other day I saw a wedding… But no! I would rather tell you about a Christmas tree. The wedding was superb. I liked it immensely. But the other incident was still finer. —> Prosegui lettura >>
ANTON CHEKHOV – Sergey Kapitonlch Akhineyev, the teacher of calligraphy, gave his daughter Natalya in marriage to the teacher of history and geography, Ivan Petrovich Loshadinikh. The wedding feast went on swimmingly. They sang, played, and —> Prosegui lettura >>
IVAN TURGENEV – I was sitting in a birch grove in autumn, near the middle of September. It had been drizzling ever since morning; occasionally the sun shone warmly;—the weather was changeable. Now the sky —> Prosegui lettura >>
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