The Gentleman from San Francisco, and Other StoriesBunin, Ivan Alekseevich
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The Gentleman from San Francisco, and Other Stories
Bunin, Ivan Alekseevich
Bunin, Ivan Alekseevich, 1870-1953 -- Translations into English; Soviet Union -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
And then, rushing out of the station on to the platform, he got mixed in
the crowd and disappeared into it, while in the "Versailles," in the
room which for two days had as it were belonged to him, they carried out
the slop-pail, opened the windows to the April sun and to the fresh air,
noisily moved the furniture, swept up and threw out the dust--and with
the dust there fell under the table, under the table cloth which slid on
to the floor, his torn note, which he had forgotten with the cucumbers:
"I beg that no one be accused of my death. I was at the wedding of my
only daughter who...."
-----
Footnote 1:
_I.e._ There was no family name. The name is Polish, not Russian.
SON
Madame Maraud was born and grew up in Lausanne, in a strict, honest,
industrious family. She did not marry young, but she married for love.
In March, 1876, among the passengers on an old French ship, the
_Auvergne_, sailing from Marseilles to Italy, was the newly married
couple. The weather was calm and fresh; the silvery mirror of the sea
appeared and disappeared in the mists of the spring horizon. The newly
married couple never left the deck. Every one liked them, every one
looked at their happiness with friendly smiles; his happiness showed
itself in the energy and keenness of his glance, in a need for movement,
in the animation of his welcome to those around him; hers showed itself
in the joy and interest with which she took in each detail.... The newly
married couple were the Marauds.
He was about ten years her elder; he was not tall, with a swarthy face
and curly hair; his hand was dry and his voice melodious. One felt in
her the presence of some other, non-Latin blood; she was over medium
height, although her figure was charming, and she had dark hair and
blue-grey eyes. After touching at Naples, Palermo, and Tunis, they
arrived at the Algerian town of Constantine, where M. Maraud had
obtained a rather good post. And their life in Constantine, for the
fourteen years since that happy spring, gave them everything with which
people are normally satisfied: wealth, family happiness, healthy and
beautiful children.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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