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    The House with the Mezzanine: Bilingual Edition (English - Russian)
    The House with the Mezzanine: Bilingual Edition (English - Russian)
    The House with the Mezzanine: Bilingual Edition (English - Russian)
    Ebook102 pages45 minutes

    The House with the Mezzanine: Bilingual Edition (English - Russian)

    By Anton Chekhov

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    About this ebook

    Instead of memorizing vocabulary words, work your way through an actual well-written novel.
    Even novices can follow along as each individual English paragraph is paired with the corresponding Russian paragraph.
    It won't be an easy project, but you'll learn a lot.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPublishdrive
    Release dateMay 13, 2018
    The House with the Mezzanine: Bilingual Edition (English - Russian)
    Author

    Anton Chekhov

    Anton Chekhov was born in Taganrog, in southern Russia, and in his youth paid for his own education and supported his entire family by writing short, satirical sketches of Russian life. Though he eventually became a physician and once considered medicine his principal career, he continued to gain popularity and praise as a writer for various Russian newspapers, eventually authoring more literary work and ultimately his most well-known plays, including Ivanov, The Seagull, and Uncle Vanya. He died of tuberculosis in 1904, and is regarded as one of the best short story writers in history, influencing such authors as Ernest Hemingway, Vladimir Nabokov, and Raymond Carver.

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      Book preview

      The House with the Mezzanine - Anton Chekhov

      THE HOUSE WITH THE MEZZANINE

      Bilingual Edition

      English - Russian

      Anton Chekhov

      translated by

      Samuel Koteliansky

      I

      I

      It happened nigh on seven years ago, when I was living in one of the districts of the J. province, on the estate of Bielokurov, a landowner, a young man who used to get up early, dress himself in a long overcoat, drink beer in the evenings, and all the while complain to me that he could nowhere find any one in sympathy with his ideas.

      Это было 6 – 7 лет тому назад, когда я жил в одном из уездов Т-ой губернии, в имении помещика Белокурова, молодого человека, который вставал очень рано, ходил в поддевке, по вечерам пил пиво и всё жаловался мне, что он нигде и ни в ком не встречает сочувствия.

      He lived in a little house in the orchard, and I lived in the old manor-house, in a huge pillared hall where there was no furniture except a large divan, on which I slept, and a table at which I used to play patience.

      Он жил в саду во флигеле, а я в старом барском доме, в громадной зале с колоннами, где не было никакой мебели, кроме широкого дивана, на котором я спал, да еще стола, на котором я раскладывал пасьянс.

      Even in calm weather there was always a moaning in the chimney, and in a storm the whole house would rock and seem as though it must split, and it was quite terrifying, especially at night, when all the ten great windows were suddenly lit up by a flash of lightning.

      Тут всегда, даже в тихую погоду, что-то гудело в старых амосовских печах, а во время грозы весь дом дрожал и, казалось, трескался на части, и было немножко страшно, особенно ночью, когда все десять больших окон вдруг освещались молнией.

      Doomed by fate to permanent idleness, I did positively nothing.

      Обреченный судьбой на постоянную праздность, я не делал решительно ничего.

      For hours together I would sit and look through the windows at the sky, the birds, the trees and read my letters over and over again, and then for hours together I would sleep.

      По целым часам я смотрел в свои окна на небо, на птиц, на аллеи, читал всё, что привозили мне с почты, спал.

      Sometimes I would go out and wander aimlessly until evening.

      Иногда я уходил из дому и до позднего вечера бродил где-нибудь.

      Once on my way home I came unexpectedly on a strange farmhouse.

      Однажды, возвращаясь домой, я нечаянно забрел в какую-то незнакомую усадьбу.

      The sun was already setting, and the lengthening shadows were thrown over the ripening corn.

      Солнце уже пряталось, и на цветущей ржи растянулись вечерние тени.

      Two rows of closely planted tall fir-trees stood like two thick walls, forming a sombre, magnificent avenue.

      Два ряда старых, тесно посаженных, очень высоких елей стояли, как две сплошные стены, образуя мрачную, красивую аллею.

      I climbed the fence and walked up the avenue, slipping on the fir needles which lay two inches thick on the ground.

      Я легко перелез через изгородь и пошел по этой аллее, скользя по еловым иглам, которые тут на вершок покрывали землю.

      It was still, dark, and only here and there in the tops of the trees shimmered a bright gold light casting the colours of the rainbow on a spider's web.

      Было тихо, темно, и только высоко на вершинах кое-где дрожал яркий золотой свет и переливал радугой в сетях паука.

      The smell of the firs was almost suffocating.

      Сильно, до духоты пахло хвоей.

      Then I turned into an avenue of limes.

      Потом я повернул на длинную липовую аллею.

      And here too were desolation and decay; the dead leaves rustled mournfully beneath my feet, and there were lurking shadows among the trees.

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