[english | 1887]
Excerpts: [... melodies which, though glad, are never without a strain of sadness. The pensive eventide was dreamily embracing the blue heaven, and transforming every visible ...... the night is near, Come, oh, come to me, sweetheart, dear! No use, murmured the Cossack when he had finished his song, at the same time drawing near ...... and there is nobody near. And if anybody does come, I will ...]
Genres: [fiction | short stories] Downloads: 228