She would
fall asleep still thinking of the same things, and tears would roll
down her cheeks from her closed eyes. And the black cat would lie at
her side purring: "Mrr, mrr, mrr."
Suddenly there was a loud knocking at the gate. Olenka woke up
breathless with fright, her heart beating violently. Half a minute
later there was another knock.
"A telegram from Kharkov," she thought, her whole body in a tremble.
"His mother wants Sasha to come to her in Kharkov. Oh, great God!"
She was in despair. Her head, her feet, her hands turned cold. There
was no unhappier creature in the world, she felt. But another minute
passed, she heard voices. It was the veterinarian coming home from the
club.
"Thank God," she thought. The load gradually fell from her heart, she
was at ease again. And she went back to bed, thinking of Sasha who lay
fast asleep in the next room and sometimes cried out in his sleep:
"I'll give it to you! Get away! Quit your scrapping!"
THE BET
BY ANTON P. CHEKHOV
I
It was a dark autumn night. The old banker was pacing from corner to
corner of his study, recalling to his mind the party he gave in the
autumn fifteen years before.
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