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    Nemirovich-Danchenko, V. I.

    Stories 1
    Chapters 4
    Words 36.5 K
    Comments 0
    Reading 3 hours, 2 minutes3 h, 2 m
    • Mahmoud’s Family Cover
      by Nemirovich-Danchenko, V. I. I. Mahmoud A fusillade of musketry fire had just broken out between the Russian and Turkish advance-posts. The fog was so dense that the confused masses of the Balkan mountains could hardly be distinguished. They seemed more like clouds which had descended on the earth to pass the night there. A red light showed through the fog from a distance; perhaps it was a Turkish bivouac-fire or the conflagration of some lonely farm. The Cossacks turned their piercing eyes in this direction, but in vain, for it…
    • The Luck of Ivan the Forgetful Cover
      by Nemirovich-Danchenko, V. I. I The old convict spent the whole day walking up and down the prison courtyard, wearing a gloomy expression and sunk in deep meditation like a man trying to recollect something which he had long forgotten. He was entered on the roll of prisoners as Ivan the Forgetful, but his fellow-prisoners nicknamed him "Ivan the Runaway," because of his numerous attempts to escape. No one spoke to him, for all knew that nothing could be got from him but words of abuse and gloomy looks. On this particular day…
    • The Deserted Mine Cover
      by Nemirovich-Danchenko, V. I. I At the entrance of the Voskressensky mine stood a group of miners. All were quite silent. It was still dark, for the autumn days begin late. Heavy grey clouds glided slowly over the sky, in which the first streaks of dawn were hardly visible. These clouds glided so low that they seemed to wish to lie on the earth in order to hide this black hole, this well-like orifice which was about to swallow up the miners one by one. The air was saturated with a cloud of damp dust, particles of which fell on…
    • A Misunderstanding Cover
      by Nemirovich-Danchenko, V. I. I Vespers were drawing to a close. A young nun, Sister Helene, who had just finished her novitiate and taken the veil, stood in a dark recess, viewed from whence, the old church, with its round columns, seemed to fade away into the mysterious darkness under the cupola. She watched the black outlines of the "Sisters in Jesus" kneeling in the middle of the nave, the gilded "iconostasis" or church-screen with its blackened pictures set in frames sparkling with precious stones, its wax-tapers and lamps…
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