The Torrents Of Spring

At last Frau Lenore declared she was tired out … Then Gemma at once
advised her to have a little nap, where she was, in her chair, ‘and I and
the Russian gentleman – “avec le monsieur russe” – will be as quiet, as
quiet … as little mice … “comme des petites souris”.’ Frau Lenore smiled at
her in reply, closed her eyes, and after a few sighs began to doze.
Gemma quickly dropped down on a bench beside her and did not stir
again, only from time to time she put a finger of one hand to her lips –
with the other hand she was holding up a pillow behind her mother’s
head – and said softly, ‘sh-sh!’ with a sidelong look at Sanin, if he permitted
himself the smallest movement. In the end he too sank into a kind
of dream, and sat motionless as though spell-bound, while all his faculties
were absorbed in admiring the picture presented him by the halfdark
room, here and there spotted with patches of light crimson, where
fresh, luxuriant roses stood in the old-fashioned green glasses, and the
sleeping woman with demurely folded hands and kind, weary face,
framed in the snowy whiteness of the pillow, and the young, keenly-alert
and also kind, clever, pure, and unspeakably beautiful creature with
such black, deep, overshadowed, yet shining eyes… . What was it? A
dream? a fairy tale? And how came he to be in it?
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