Seven Who Were Hanged by Leonid Nikolayevich Andreyev
page 72 of 122 (59%)
page 72 of 122 (59%)
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mustached face appeared in the black hole. For a long time it stared
at Musya in astonishment-and then disappeared as noiselessly as it had appeared. The bells rang and sang, for a long time, painfully. It seemed as if the tired Hours were climbing up a high mountain toward midnight, and that it was becoming ever harder and harder to ascend. They fall, they slip, they slide down with a groan-and then again, they climb painfully toward the black height. Somewhere people were walking. Somewhere people were whispering. And they were already harnessing the horses to the black carriages without lanterns. CHAPTER VIII THERE IS DEATH AS WELL AS LIFE Sergey Golovin never thought of death, as though it were something not to be considered, something that did not concern him in the least. He was a strong, healthy, cheerful youth, endowed with that calm, clear joy of living which causes every evil thought and feeling that might injure life to disappear from the organism without leaving any trace. Just as all cuts, wounds and stings on his body healed rapidly, so all that weighed upon his soul and wounded it immediately rose to the surface and disappeared. And he brought into every work, even into his enjoyments, the same calm and optimistic seriousness,-it mattered not whether he was occupied with photography, with bicycling or with |
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