eBooks - Short Stories - Short Stories - Anton Chekhov - The Witch
The Witch eBooks
by Anton Chekhov
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Windows, Mac, Linux, Palm, Pocket PC, Sony Reader Features
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Windows PC, Windows Mobile 5.0-6.0, Pocket PC 2003 Features
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Windows PC, Windows Mobile 5.0-6.0, Pocket PC 2003 Features
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Windows PC, Palm, Windows Mobile, Pocket PC, Symbian OS, Blackberry, iLiad, and more. Features
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Palm, Windows Mobile, Pocket PC, Windows PC, Mac, iPhone/iPod Touch Features
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Platforms
Palm, Windows Mobile, Pocket PC, Windows PC, Mac, iPhone/iPod Touch Features
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Email Delivery Price: $4.95
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Platforms Windows, Tablet PC, Windows CE, Macintosh, Linux, Unix. Features
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Platforms Windows, Tablet PC, Windows CE, Macintosh, Linux, Unix. Features
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Availability:
Email Delivery Price: $4.95
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Platforms Windows Computers, Tablet PC Features
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Availability:
Download Now Price: $3.98
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Platforms Windows Computers, Tablet PC Features
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Availability:
Email Delivery Price: $5.95
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Platforms Windows Computers, Tablet PC, Windows CE, Macintosh, Linux, Unix Features
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Availability:
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Platforms Windows Computers, Tablet PC, Windows CE, Macintosh, Linux, Unix Features
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Availability:
Download Now Price: $2.99
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The Witch Summary
| IT was approaching nightfall. The sexton, Savely Gykin, was lying in his huge bed in the hut adjoining the church. He was not asleep, though it was his habit to go to sleep at the same time as the hens. His coarse red hair peeped from under one end of the greasy patchwork quilt, made up of coloured rags, while his big unwashed feet stuck out from the other. He was listening. His hut adjoined the wall that encircled the church and the solitary window in it looked out upon the open country. And out there a regular battle was going on. It was hard to say who was being wiped off the face of the earth, and for the sake of whose destruction nature was being churned up into such a ferment; but, judging from the unceasing malignant roar, someone was getting it very hot. A victorious force was in full chase over the fields, storming in the forest and on the church roof, battering spitefully with its fists upon the windows, raging and tearing, while something vanquished was howling and wailing. . . . A plaintive lament sobbed at the window, on the roof, or in the stove. It sounded not like a call for help, but like a cry of misery, a consciousness that it was too late, that there was no salvation. The snowdrifts were covered with a thin coating of ice; tears quivered on them and on the trees; a dark slush of mud and melting snow flowed along the roads and paths. In short, it was thawing, but through the dark night the heavens failed to see it, and flung flakes of fresh snow upon the melting earth at a terrific rate. And the wind staggered like a drunkard. It would not let the snow settle on the ground, and whirled it round in the darkness at random. |
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| IT was approaching nightfall. The sexton, Savely Gykin, was lying in his huge bed in the hut adjoining the church. He was not asleep, though it was his habit to go to sleep at the same time as the hens. His coarse red hair peeped from under one end of the greasy patchwork quilt, made up of coloured rags, while his big unwashed feet stuck out from the other. He was listening. His hut adjoined the wall that encircled the church and the solitary window in it looked out upon the open country. And out there a regular battle was going on. It was hard to say who was being wiped off the face of the earth, and for the sake of whose destruction nature was being churned up into such a ferment; but, judging from the unceasing malignant roar, someone was getting it very hot. A victorious force was in full chase over the fields, storming in the forest and on the church roof, battering spitefully with its fists upon the windows, raging and tearing, while something vanquished was howling and wailing. . . . A plaintive lament sobbed at the window, on the roof, or in the stove. It sounded not like a call for help, but like a cry of misery, a consciousness that it was too late, that there was no salvation. The snowdrifts were covered with a thin coating of ice; tears quivered on them and on the trees; a dark slush of mud and melting snow flowed along the roads and paths. In short, it was thawing, but through the dark night the heavens failed to see it, and flung flakes of fresh snow upon the melting earth at a terrific rate. And the wind staggered like a drunkard. It would not let the snow settle on the ground, and whirled it round in the darkness at random. |
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eBooks - Titles - Authors - Short Stories - Short Stories - Anton Chekhov - The Witch