CHRISTMAS PURSES : anything yet.... I have only been making ready to begin!' Shall christmas purses recall the past, and dwell in thought on the few bright moments I have lived through--on precious images and faces? Will my ill deeds come back to my mind, and will my soul be stung by the burning pain of remorse too christmas purses Shall I think of what awaits me beyond the grave ... and in truth does anything await me there? No.... I fancy I shall try not to think, and shall force myself to take interest in some trifle simply to distract my own attention from the menacing darkness, which is black christmas purses me. I once saw a dying man who kept complaining they would not let him have hazel-nuts to munch!... and only in the depths of his fast-dimming eyes, something quivered and struggled like the torn wing of a bird wounded to
CHRISTMAS PURSES : death.... _August 1879._ 'HOW FAIR, HOW FRESH WERE THE ROSES ...' Somewhere, sometime, long, long ago, I read a poem. It was soon forgotten ... but the first line christmas purses stuck in my memory-- '_How fair, how fresh were the christmas purses ..._' Now is winter; the frost has iced over the window-panes; in the dark room burns a solitary candle. I sit huddled up in a corner; and in my head the line christmas purses echoing and echoing-- '_How fair, how fresh were the roses ..._' And I see myself before the low window of a Russian country house. The summer evening is slowly melting into night, the warm air is fragrant of mignonette and lime-blossom; and at the window, leaning on her arm, her head bent on her shoulder, sits a young girl, and silently, intently gazes into the sky, as though looking for new stars to come out. What candour,
CHRISTMAS PURSES : what inspiration in the dreamy eyes, what moving innocence in the parted questioning lips, how calmly christmas purses that still-growing, still-untroubled bosom, how pure and tender the profile of the young face! I dare not speak to her; but how dear she is to me, how my heart beats! '_How fair, how fresh were the roses ..._' But here in the room it gets darker and darker.... The candle burns dim and gutters, dancing shadows quiver on the low ceiling, the cruel crunch of the frost is heard outside, and within the christmas purses murmur of old age.... '_How fair, how fresh were the roses ..._' There rise up before me other images. I hear the merry hubbub of home life in the country. Two flaxen heads, bending close together, look saucily at me with their bright eyes, christmas purses cheeks shake with suppressed laughter,
CHRISTMAS PURSES : hands are clasped in warm affection, young kind voices ring christmas purses above the other; while a little farther, at the end of christmas purses snug room, other hands, young too, fly with unskilled fingers over the keys of the old piano, and the Lanner waltz cannot drown the hissing of the patriarchal samovar ... '_How fair, how fresh were the roses ..._' The candle flickers and goes christmas purses Whose is that hoarse and hollow cough? Curled up, my old dog lies, shuddering at my feet, my only companion.... I'm cold ... I'm frozen ... and all of them are dead ... dead ... '_How fair, how fresh were the roses ..._' _Sept. 1879._ ON THE SEA I was going from Hamburg to London in a small steamer. We were two passengers; I and a little female monkey, whom a Hamburg merchant was
CHRISTMAS PURSES : sending as a present to his English partner. She was fastened by a light chain to one of the seats on deck, and was moving restlessly and whining in a little plaintive pipe like a bird's. Every time I passed by her she stretched out her little, black, cold hand, and peeped up at me out of her christmas purses mournful, almost human eyes. I took her hand, and she ceased whining and moving restlessly about. There was a dead calm. The sea stretched on all sides like a motionless sheet of leaden colour. It seemed narrowed and small; a thick fog overhung it, hiding the very mast-tops in cloud, and dazing and wearying the eyes with its soft obscurity. The sun hung, a dull red blur in this obscurity; but before evening it christmas purses with strange, mysterious, lurid light. Long, straight christmas purses like the folds in some heavy silken stuff, passed one
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CHRISTMAS PURSES