He seemed not even to breathe. Little Somov moved his
lips mutely, as if repeating to himself the words in the book; and
his curly-haired companion, with bent body, elbows on knees, his
face supported on his hands, smiled abstractedly. One of the men
who had entered at the same time as Pavel, a slender young chap with
red, curly hair and merry green eyes, apparently wanted to say
something; for he kept turning around impatiently. The other,
light-haired and closely cropped, stroked his head with his hand
and looked down on the floor so that his face remained invisible.
It was warm in the room, and the atmosphere was genial. The mother
responded to this peculiar charm, which she had never before felt.
She was affected by the purling of Natasha's voice, mingled with
the quavering hum of the samovar, and recalled the noisy evening
parties of her youth--the coarseness of the young men, whose breath
always smelled of vodka--their cynical jokes. She remembered all
this, and an oppressive sense of pity for her own self gently stirred
her worn, outraged heart.
Before her rose the scene of the wooing of her husband. At one of
the parties he had seized her in a dark porch, and pressing her with
his whole body to the wall asked in a gruff, vexed voice:
"Will you marry me?"
She had been pained and had felt offended; but he rudely dug his
fingers into her flesh, snorted heavily, and breathed his hot, humid
breath into her face.
Pages:
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61