/ The authors / Nefertiti Mitannian
Anna was sitting by the window in a dark little room. The light almost did not penetrate the blind-eyed window. The only significant source of light and heat was the flame that burned in the iron furnace. Despite its heat, there was dampness in the room, and from the cracks in the walls it was dragged by a chill cold. Winter was coming. In Siberia, it came earlier than the usual time and always somehow unexpectedly. And today, barely awake, in the morning Anna saw through the window that it had already snowed, although it was only September. Gloomy days like ...
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Anna bent over embroidery. Suddenly, awkwardly making a stitch, pricked a finger. Frowned, brought to his mouth, licked a drop of blood that seemed. Eyes filled with tears. No, not because it pricked your finger! Just tears, hiding somewhere in the throat, coming up in a lump, now suddenly burst out and flowed along the heated cheeks. Certainly, today the day did not go well, since the very morning everything fell out of my hands. However, not only today. She could quite accurately tell when all this ...
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Went the third month as he returned to the capital a married man. It was still dark — it was the beginning of winter — it was waking up, with a sinking heart, admiring its little wife, who was sleeping sweetly, burying her shoulder. Kissing where it is necessary and quietly, trying not to wake his treasure, slipped out of the bedroom.
Sometimes in the evenings they went to the theater, where Anna enthusiastically watched what was happening on the stage, and Sergei could not look away from her. So airy she was in the evening dress made of foam ...
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Sometimes in the evenings they went to the theater, where Anna enthusiastically watched what was happening on the stage, and Sergei could not look away from her. So airy she was in the evening dress made of foam ...
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The next day they went to the estate. Anna silently sat on the horse in front of her husband.
- Do not worry, my heart, - having covered her hand with his hand, Sergey smiled, - I will never let you hurt you!
“The last thing I worry about is my own self,” Anna answered and looked up at him thoughtfully.
- So why are you sad? - trying to speak in a cheerful tone, Sergey asked.
- I ... ask myself if I did the right thing ... Wouldn't it harm you to marry me? - with undisguised sadness, a voice sounded ...
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- Do not worry, my heart, - having covered her hand with his hand, Sergey smiled, - I will never let you hurt you!
“The last thing I worry about is my own self,” Anna answered and looked up at him thoughtfully.
- So why are you sad? - trying to speak in a cheerful tone, Sergey asked.
- I ... ask myself if I did the right thing ... Wouldn't it harm you to marry me? - with undisguised sadness, a voice sounded ...
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Three days that Sergei decided to spend in an abandoned house, flew like one moment. In those short hours, when they broke away from each other, giving their bodies a break, they surveyed the house from top to bottom. At first, Sergei resisted this, fearing that Anna might be overly disturbed by his gloomy atmosphere, but then gave way to her insistent requests. Looking at the portraits, she bombarded him with a bunch of questions about those who were depicted in them.
“I’m ashamed to confess,” smiled Sergey, “but I’m almost ...”
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“I’m ashamed to confess,” smiled Sergey, “but I’m almost ...”
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It has long dawned. A midday light made its way through the gap in the curtain. Sergey looked at his wife with tenderness. Her serene, calm face lay on his shoulder. Sometimes a small mouth transformed a fleeting smile, touching and carefree, typical of all innocent creatures. So the angel himself could smile, come down from heaven. Sergey smiled: her face was exactly the same when last summer, lost in the woods, spent the night in a meadow in a haystack. Then he kept her dream all night, admiring ...
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It is finished. They are married. She sits next to him on a horse. Sergey still does not believe in what happened. Lieutenant Sergei Petrushevsky, the hero of the Battle of Borodino, a participant in the foreign campaign of the Russian army, fell unconsciously in love with the pupil of his aunt, landowner Mary Fedorovna Versaeva, Anna Voitsekhovskaya. The girl responded to his feelings. But the aunt was totally against their marriage. The imperious Maria Fedorovna had her own plans for a pupil: she intended to pass her off as a count ...
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