The Torrents Of Spring - Turgenev Ivan Sergeevich.pdf

stirring in the slime.... But the fated day will
come, and it will overturn the boat.
He shook his head, jumped up from his low
chair, took two turns up and down the room,
sat down to the writing-table, and opening one
drawer after another, began to rummage
among his papers, among old letters, mostly
from women. He could not have said why he
was doing it; he was not looking for
anything--he simply wanted by some kind of
external occupation to get away from the
thoughts oppressing him. Opening several
letters at random (in one of them there was a
withered flower tied with a bit of faded
ribbon), he merely shrugged his shoulders,
and glancing at the hearth, he tossed them on
one side, probably with the idea of burning all
this useless rubbish. Hurriedly, thrusting his
hands first into one, and then into another
drawer, he suddenly opened his eyes wide,
and slowly bringing out a little octagonal box
of old-fashioned make, he slowly raised its lid.
In the box, under two layers of cotton wool,