XX Category: Ivan Turgenev

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The Jew

The colonel smiled, puffed out a coil of tobacco smoke between his moustaches, passed his hand over his grey hair, looked at us and
considered. We all had the greatest liking and respect for Nikolai Ilyitch,

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The Dream

I was living at that time with my mother in a little seaside town. I was in my seventeenth year, while my mother was not quite five-and-thirty; she had married very young.

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For a long time I could not get to sleep, and kept turning from side to side. ‘Confound this foolishness about table-turning!’ I thought. ‘It
simply upsets one’s nerves.’… Drowsiness began to overtake me at last…

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‘Enough,’ I said to myself as I moved with lagging steps over the steep mountainside down to the quiet little brook. ‘Enough,’ I said again, as
I drank in the resinous fragrance of the pinewood, strong and pungent in the freshness of falling evening.

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Old Portraits

About thirty miles from our village there lived, many years ago, a distant cousin of my mother’s, a retired officer of the Guards, and rather wealthy landowner, Alexey Sergeitch Teliegin.

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In one of the outlying streets of Moscow, in a gray house with white columns and a balcony, warped all askew, there was once living a lady, a widow, surrounded by a numerous household of serfs.

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