into the Neva, into the pale grey mould, the wet statue of the Horseman continued to hurl his heavy, green-turned bronze.
And against this darkening background of tailed and drooping soot above the damp stones of the embankment railing, his eyes fixed upon the turbid, bacillus-infected water of the Neva, the silhouette of Nikolai Apollonovich distinctly stood out, clad in a grey Nikolayevka and a student’s peaked cap worn at a slant.Slowly did Nikolai Apollonovich move towards the grey, dark bridge, did not smile, presenting a rather ridiculous figure: tightly wrapped in the greatcoat, he appeared stooping and rather awkward, with a wing of greatcoat dancing most absurdly in the wind.
By the large black bridge he stopped.
An unpleasant smile flared for an instant on his face and died; memories of an unsuccessful love had seized him, gushing out in an onslaught of cold wind; Nikolai Apollonovich remembered a certain foggy night; on that night he had leaned over the railing; turned round and seen that there was no one there; raised his leg; and in a sleek rubber galosh brought it over the railing, and … remained like that: with raised leg; it seemed that consequences ought to have ensued; but … Nikolai Apollonovich continued to stand with raised leg.A few moments later Nikolai Apollonovich had lowered his leg.
It was then that an ill-considered plan had matured within him: to give a dreadful promise to a certain frivolous party.
Remembering now this unsuccessful action of his, Nikolai Apolonovich smiled in a most unpleasant manner, presenting a rather ridiculous figure: tightly wrapped in the greatcoat, he appearedstooping and rather awkward with his long wing of greatcoat dancing in the wind; with such an aspect did he turn on to the Nevsky; it was beginning to get dark; here and there in a shop’s display window gleamed a light.
‘A handsome fellow,’ was constantly heard around Nikolai Apollonovich.
‘An antique mask …’
‘The Apollo Belvedere.’
‘A handsome fellow …’
In all probability the ladies he encountered spoke of him thus.
‘That pallor of his face …’
‘That marble profile …’
‘Divine …’
In all probability the ladies he encountered spoke of him thus.
But if Nikolai Apollonovich had wished to enter into conversation with the ladies, the ladies would have said to themselves:
‘An ugly monster …’
Where from an entrance porch two melancholic lions place paw on grey granite paw, – there, by that place, Nikolai Apollonovich stopped and was surprised to see behind him the back of a passing officer; tripping over the skirts of his greatcoat, he began to catch the officer up:
‘Sergei Sergeyevich?’
The officer (a tall, blond fellow with a little pointed beard) turned round and with a shade of annoyance watched expectantly through the blue lenses of his spectacles as, tripping over the skirts of his greatcoat, clumsily towards him trailed a diminutive and student-like figure from a familiar place where from an entrance porch two melancholic lions with sleek granite manes mockingly place paw upon paw.For an instant some kind of thought seemed to strike the officer’s face; from the expression of his trembling lips one might have thought that the officer was excited; he seemed to be hesitating: should he recognize or not ?
‘Er … hello … Where are you going?’
‘I have to go to Panteleimonovskaya,’ Nikolai Apollonovich lied, in order to be able to walk along the Moika with the officer.
‘Let’s go together, if you like …’
‘Where are you going?’ Nikolai Apollonovich lied a second time, in order to be able to walk along the Moika with the officer.
‘I’m going home.’
‘That’s on our way, then.’
Between the windows of the yellow, official building, above both of them, hung rows of stone lions’ faces; each face hung above a coat of arms that was entwined with a stone garland.
As if trying not to touch on some painful past, they
And against this darkening background of tailed and drooping soot above the damp stones of the embankment railing, his eyes fixed upon the turbid, bacillus-infected water of the Neva, the silhouette of Nikolai Apollonovich distinctly stood out, clad in a grey Nikolayevka and a student’s peaked cap worn at a slant.Slowly did Nikolai Apollonovich move towards the grey, dark bridge, did not smile, presenting a rather ridiculous figure: tightly wrapped in the greatcoat, he appeared stooping and rather awkward, with a wing of greatcoat dancing most absurdly in the wind.
By the large black bridge he stopped.
An unpleasant smile flared for an instant on his face and died; memories of an unsuccessful love had seized him, gushing out in an onslaught of cold wind; Nikolai Apollonovich remembered a certain foggy night; on that night he had leaned over the railing; turned round and seen that there was no one there; raised his leg; and in a sleek rubber galosh brought it over the railing, and … remained like that: with raised leg; it seemed that consequences ought to have ensued; but … Nikolai Apollonovich continued to stand with raised leg.A few moments later Nikolai Apollonovich had lowered his leg.
It was then that an ill-considered plan had matured within him: to give a dreadful promise to a certain frivolous party.
Remembering now this unsuccessful action of his, Nikolai Apolonovich smiled in a most unpleasant manner, presenting a rather ridiculous figure: tightly wrapped in the greatcoat, he appearedstooping and rather awkward with his long wing of greatcoat dancing in the wind; with such an aspect did he turn on to the Nevsky; it was beginning to get dark; here and there in a shop’s display window gleamed a light.
‘A handsome fellow,’ was constantly heard around Nikolai Apollonovich.
‘An antique mask …’
‘The Apollo Belvedere.’
‘A handsome fellow …’
In all probability the ladies he encountered spoke of him thus.
‘That pallor of his face …’
‘That marble profile …’
‘Divine …’
In all probability the ladies he encountered spoke of him thus.
But if Nikolai Apollonovich had wished to enter into conversation with the ladies, the ladies would have said to themselves:
‘An ugly monster …’
Where from an entrance porch two melancholic lions place paw on grey granite paw, – there, by that place, Nikolai Apollonovich stopped and was surprised to see behind him the back of a passing officer; tripping over the skirts of his greatcoat, he began to catch the officer up:
‘Sergei Sergeyevich?’
The officer (a tall, blond fellow with a little pointed beard) turned round and with a shade of annoyance watched expectantly through the blue lenses of his spectacles as, tripping over the skirts of his greatcoat, clumsily towards him trailed a diminutive and student-like figure from a familiar place where from an entrance porch two melancholic lions with sleek granite manes mockingly place paw upon paw.For an instant some kind of thought seemed to strike the officer’s face; from the expression of his trembling lips one might have thought that the officer was excited; he seemed to be hesitating: should he recognize or not ?
‘Er … hello … Where are you going?’
‘I have to go to Panteleimonovskaya,’ Nikolai Apollonovich lied, in order to be able to walk along the Moika with the officer.
‘Let’s go together, if you like …’
‘Where are you going?’ Nikolai Apollonovich lied a second time, in order to be able to walk along the Moika with the officer.
‘I’m going home.’
‘That’s on our way, then.’
Between the windows of the yellow, official building, above both of them, hung rows of stone lions’ faces; each face hung above a coat of arms that was entwined with a stone garland.
As if trying not to touch on some painful past, they
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