The stories of anton chekhov pdf

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THE LADY WITH THE DOG AND OTHER. STORIES. By. Anton Chekhov .. remembered these tales of easy conquests, of trips to the mountains, and the. Visit this site dedicated to providing Free ☆ Anton Chekhov ☆ Short Stories. Free , online printable versions of Anton Chekhov Free Short Stories. Read Anton. Among Russia's greatest writers, Anton Chekhov revolutionized Russian drama and short-story writing. In this collection, you'll find

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Project Gutenberg Compilation of Short Stories of Chekhov by Chekhov. Book Cover. Download; Bibrec. HARRIMAN MAGAZINE | ANToN cheKhov's. selecTeD sTories edited by CAthy PoPkin. Cathy Popkin, Jesse and George Siegel Professor in the Humanities. Celebrity Chekhov: Stories by Anton Chekhov (P.S.) The Lady With the Dog and Other Stories: The Tales of Chekhov (Chekhov, Anton Pavlovich, Short.

Click the Donate button and support Open Culture. He explained that, too. This must have been the first time in her life she had been alone in surroundings in which she was followed, looked at, and spoken to merely from a secret motive which she could hardly fail to guess. Among the longer stories, I suggest beginning with Ward No. Chekhov In Trouble by A. Anton Chekhov Downloads:

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The Darling and Other Stories

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Click to Preview. Anton Chekhov Downloads: Other books by author Aug The Sea-Gull Reads: The Duel and Other Stories Reads: You may also like Mar He did not very well know himself. He wanted to see Anna Sergeyevna and to talk with her — to arrange a meeting, if possible.

Stories by Anton Chekhov | Open Culture

He reached S—— in the morning, and took the best room at the hotel, in which the floor was covered with grey army cloth, and on the table was an inkstand, grey with dust and adorned with a figure on horseback, with its hat in its hand and its head broken off.

The hotel porter gave him the necessary information; Von Diderits lived in a house of his own in Old Gontcharny Street — it was not far from the hotel: Gurov went without haste to Old Gontcharny Street and found the house. Just opposite the house stretched a long grey fence adorned with nails. He considered: And in any case it would be tactless to go into the house and upset her. The best thing was to trust to chance. And he kept walking up and down the street by the fence, waiting for the chance.

He saw a beggar go in at the gate and dogs fly at him; then an hour later he heard a piano, and the sounds were faint and indistinct. Probably it was Anna Sergeyevna playing. The front door suddenly opened, and an old woman came out, followed by the familiar white Pomeranian. He walked up and down, and loathed the grey fence more and more, and by now he thought irritably that Anna Sergeyevna had forgotten him, and was perhaps already amusing herself with some one else, and that that was very natural in a young woman who had nothing to look at from morning till night but that confounded fence.

He went back to his hotel room and sat for a long while on the sofa, not knowing what to do, then he had dinner and a long nap. What shall I do in the night? He sat on the bed, which was covered by a cheap grey blanket, such as one sees in hospitals, and he taunted himself in his vexation:.

That morning at the station a poster in large letters had caught his eye.

He thought of this and went to the theatre. The theatre was full. All the time the audience were coming in and taking their seats Gurov looked at them eagerly. Anna Sergeyevna, too, came in. She sat down in the third row, and when Gurov looked at her his heart contracted, and he understood clearly that for him there was in the whole world no creature so near, so precious, and so important to him; she, this little woman, in no way remarkable, lost in a provincial crowd, with a vulgar lorgnette in her hand, filled his whole life now, was his sorrow and his joy, the one happiness that he now desired for himself, and to the sounds of the inferior orchestra, of the wretched provincial violins, he thought how lovely she was.

He thought and dreamed. A young man with small side-whiskers, tall and stooping, came in with Anna Sergeyevna and sat down beside her; he bent his head at every step and seemed to be continually bowing. Most likely this was the husband whom at Yalta, in a rush of bitter feeling, she had called a flunkey. During the first interval the husband went away to smoke; she remained alone in her stall.

Gurov, who was sitting in the stalls, too, went up to her and said in a trembling voice, with a forced smile:. She glanced at him and turned pale, then glanced again with horror, unable to believe her eyes, and tightly gripped the fan and the lorgnette in her hands, evidently struggling with herself not to faint.

Both were silent. She was sitting, he was standing, frightened by her confusion and not venturing to sit down beside her. The violins and the flute began tuning up. He felt suddenly frightened; it seemed as though all the people in the boxes were looking at them.

She got up and went quickly to the door; he followed her, and both walked senselessly along passages, and up and down stairs, and figures in legal, scholastic, and civil service uniforms, all wearing badges, flitted before their eyes.

They caught glimpses of ladies, of fur coats hanging on pegs; the draughts blew on them, bringing a smell of stale tobacco. And Gurov, whose heart was beating violently, thought:. And at that instant he recalled how when he had seen Anna Sergeyevna off at the station he had thought that everything was over and they would never meet again. But how far they were still from the end! I am half dead. Why have you come? She looked at him with dread, with entreaty, with love; she looked at him intently, to keep his features more distinctly in her memory.

And I wanted to forget, to forget you; but why, oh, why, have you come? On the landing above them two schoolboys were smoking and looking down, but that was nothing to Gurov; he drew Anna Sergeyevna to him, and began kissing her face, her cheeks, and her hands. Go away today; go away at once. I beseech you by all that is sacred, I implore you.

The Lady with the Dog and other stories, by Anton Chekhov

There are people coming this way! I will come and see you in Moscow. I have never been happy; I am miserable now, and I never, never shall be happy, never! But now let us part. My precious, good, dear one, we must part! She pressed his hand and began rapidly going downstairs, looking round at him, and from her eyes he could see that she really was unhappy.

Gurov stood for a little while, listened, then, when all sound had died away, he found his coat and left the theatre. And Anna Sergeyevna began coming to see him in Moscow. Once in two or three months she left S— — telling her husband that she was going to consult a doctor about an internal complaint — and her husband believed her, and did not believe her.

In Moscow she stayed at the Slaviansky Bazaar hotel, and at once sent a man in a red cap to Gurov. Gurov went to see her, and no one in Moscow knew of it.

Of the anton pdf stories chekhov

Once he was going to see her in this way on a winter morning the messenger had come the evening before when he was out. With him walked his daughter, whom he wanted to take to school: Snow was falling in big wet flakes. He explained that, too. He talked, thinking all the while that he was going to see her, and no living soul knew of it, and probably never would know.

He had two lives: And he judged of others by himself, not believing in what he saw, and always believing that every man had his real, most interesting life under the cover of secrecy and under the cover of night.

All personal life rested on secrecy, and possibly it was partly on that account that civilised man was so nervously anxious that personal privacy should be respected. After leaving his daughter at school, Gurov went on to the Slaviansky Bazaar. He took off his fur coat below, went upstairs, and softly knocked at the door. Anna Sergeyevna, wearing his favourite grey dress, exhausted by the journey and the suspense, had been expecting him since the evening before. She was pale; she looked at him, and did not smile, and he had hardly come in when she fell on his breast.

Their kiss was slow and prolonged, as though they had not met for two years. She could not speak; she was crying. She turned away from him, and pressed her handkerchief to her eyes. Then he rang and asked for tea to be brought him, and while he drank his tea she remained standing at the window with her back to him.

Stories anton chekhov pdf the of

She was crying from emotion, from the miserable consciousness that their life was so hard for them; they could only meet in secret, hiding themselves from people, like thieves! Was not their life shattered? It was evident to him that this love of theirs would not soon be over, that he could not see the end of it.