White nights, and other storiesDostoyevsky, Fyodor
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White nights, and other stories
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor, 1821-1881 -- Translations into English; Russian fiction -- Translations into English
"Ah, poor fellow! That's the result of over-excitement. Do you know
what? You had better go to bed without sitting up for supper, and you
will be all right in the morning. Come along."
She took me upstairs, and there was no end to the care she lavished on
me. Leaving me to undress she ran downstairs, got me some tea, and
brought it up herself when I was in bed. She brought me up a warm quilt
as well. I was much impressed and touched by all the care and attention
lavished on me; or perhaps I was affected by the whole day, the
expedition and feverishness. As I said good-night to her I hugged her
warmly, as though she were my dearest and nearest friend, and in my
exhausted state all the emotions of the day came back to me in a rush; I
almost shed tears as I nestled to her bosom. She noticed my overwrought
condition, and I believe my madcap herself was a little touched.
"You are a very good boy," she said, looking at me with gentle eyes,
"please don't be angry with me. You won't, will you?"
In fact, we became the warmest and truest of friends.
It was rather early when I woke up, but the sun was already flooding the
whole room with brilliant light. I jumped out of bed feeling perfectly
well and strong, as though I had had no fever the day before; indeed, I
felt now unutterably joyful. I recalled the previous day and felt that I
would have given any happiness if I could at that minute have embraced
my new friend, the fair-haired beauty, again, as I had the night before;
but it was very early and every one was still asleep. Hurriedly dressing
I went out into the garden and from there into the copse. I made my way
where the leaves were thickest, where the fragrance of the trees was
more resinous, and where the sun peeped in most gaily, rejoicing that it
could penetrate the dense darkness of the foliage. It was a lovely
morning.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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