Автор: Николай Лесков
Издательство: КАРО
Жанр: Русская классика
Серия: Russian Classic Literature
isbn: 978-5-9925-1374-5
isbn:
Katerina Lvovna felt a coat and a beard with her hand; her other hand touched the hot face of a woman.
“Who’s that?” Sergei asked in a half whisper.
“And what are you doing here? Who is that with you?”
In the darkness, Katerina Lvovna pulled the head cloth from her rival. The woman slipped aside, rushed off, stumbled against someone in the corridor, and fell.
From the men’s quarters came a burst of guffawing.
“Villain!” Katerina Lvovna whispered and hit Sergei across the face with the ends of the kerchief she had torn from the head of his new girlfriend.
Sergei raised his hand; but Katerina Lvovna flitted lightly down the corridor and took hold of her door. The guffawing from the men’s quarters that followed her was repeated so loudly that the guard, who had been standing apathetically next to the lantern and spitting at the toe of his boot, raised his head and barked:
“Quiet!”
Katerina Lvovna lay down silently and went on lying like that until morning. She wanted to say to herself: “I don’t love him” and felt that she loved him still more ardently. And now before her eyes she keeps picturing again and again how his palm trembled under that woman’s head, how his other arm embraced her hot shoulders.
The poor woman wept and unwillingly called upon the same palm to be under her head that minute and his other arm to embrace her hysterically trembling shoulders.
“Well, give me back my kerchief anyhow,” the soldier’s wife Fiona woke her up in the morning.
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