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The Diary of a Superfluous Man and Other Stories by Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev
page 21 of 235 (08%)
and a vague smile. On the previous evening we had read together. The
Prisoner of the Caucasus_. With what eagerness she had listened to me,
her face propped in both hands, and her bosom pressed against the
table! I began to speak of our yesterday's reading; she flushed, asked
me whether I had given the parrot any hemp-seed before starting, began
humming some little song aloud, and all at once was silent again. The
copse ended on one side in a rather high and abrupt precipice; below
coursed a winding stream, and beyond it, over an immense expanse,
stretched the boundless prairies, rising like waves, spreading wide
like a table-cloth, and broken here and there by ravines. Liza and I
were the first to come out at the edge of the wood; Bizmyonkov and the
elder lady were behind. We came out, stood still, and involuntarily we
both half shut our eyes; directly facing us, across a lurid mist, the
vast, purple sun was setting. Half the sky was flushed and glowing; red
rays fell slanting on the meadows, casting a crimson reflection even on
the side of the ravines in shadow, lying in gleams of fire on the
stream, where it was not hidden under the overhanging bushes, and, as
it were, leaning on the bosom of the precipice and the copse. We stood,
bathed in the blazing brilliance. I am not capable of describing all
the impassioned solemnity of this scene. They say that by a blind man
the colour red is imagined as the sound of a trumpet. I don't know how
far this comparison is correct, but really there was something of a
challenge in this glowing gold of the evening air, in the crimson flush
on sky and earth. I uttered a cry of rapture and at once turned to
Liza. She was looking straight at the sun. I remember the sunset glow
was reflected in little points of fire in her eyes. She was
overwhelmed, deeply moved. She made no response to my exclamation; for
a long while she stood, not stirring, with drooping head.... I held out
my hand to her; she turned away from me, and suddenly burst into tears.
I looked at her with secret, almost delighted amazement.... The voice
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