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Kuningas Lear arolla by Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev
Kuningas Lear arolla by Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev
Lapsuuteni ajan ja ensimm?iset nuorukais-ajat hamaan viidenteentoista ik?vuoteeni saakka elelin maalla, ?itini, rikkaan tilan-omistajan, luona X:n l??niss?. Luulin kuin luulinkin, ett? jo n?ilt? ammoisilta ajoilta j?i muistooni l?himm?isen naapurimme er??n Martin Petrovitsh Harlow'in kuva. Ja tuskinpa moinen kuva muistosta ottaisi haihtuakseenkaan; mointa miest? en ole sittemmin el?m?n p?ivin?ni n?hnyt.
Kuvailkaa mieless?nne mies, suuri kuin j?ttil?inen! Kookkaasen ruumiisen oli liittynyt suunnaton p??, aivan v?litt?m?sti, - ei kaulan j?lke?k??n; keltaisenharmaa tukka kohota p?yrysi kuin hyv?kin ruko, alkaen melkein p?rr?isten kulmakarvain juurilta. Sinerv?in, melkein kuni kuorittujen kasvojen laajalla tanterella istua j?rr?tti paksu pahkanen?; siin? ylpe?sti siiraili pari pikkuruisia sinisi? silmi?; siin? my?s aukeili suu, pikkuruinen sekin, mutta vino, halkinainen, samaa v?ri? kuin koko kasvotkin. ??ni tuli t?st? suusta tosin k?he?n?, mutta erinomaisen kovana ja kumisevana. H?nen ??nens? piti samaa el?m?? kuin kimpullinen kankirautoja, jotka pannaan rattaille niin ett? toinen p?? letkuu ulkona ja joita sitten l?hdet??n vet?m??n huonosti kivitetty? katua my?ten. Harlow puhui aina niinkuin olisi huutanut jollekin kovassa vastatuulessa leve?n kuopan yli. Vaikea olisi ollut sanoa, mit? Harlow'in kasvot milloinkin ilmaisivat: niin laajat ne olivat. Yhdell? silm?yksell? noita kasvoja v?list? ei enn?tt?nyt n?hd?kk??n. Mutta vastenmieliset ne eiv?t olleet - oikein niiss? asui jonkunlainen mahtavuus; hyvin olivat oudot ja kummalliset. Ja millaiset olivat h?nell? k?det - patjoja nekin! Ent? sormet, ent? jalat! Muistan min? viel?, kuinka kunnioittavaa kauhua min? tunsin, katsellessani Martin Petrovitsh'in kaksi-kyyn?r?ist? selk?? ja hartioita leveit? kuin myllyn kivet. H?nen korvansa ne minun enimm?n h?mm?styttiv?t! Rinkil? mik? rinkil?: siin? laskokset ja palmikot ja kaikki: ja posket ne noin vaan kannattelivatkin niit? puolelta ja toiselta.
Kes?t talvet k?vi Martin Petrovitsh viheri?st? verasta tehdyss? kasakinissa,[1] jota kiinnitti vy?t?isille tsherkessil?inen vy?; jalassa oli rasvanahkaiset saappaat. Kaulusta en n?hnyt h?nell? milloinkaan, ja mihinp? sen olisi sitonutkaan? H?n hengitti pitk??n ja raskaasti kuin h?rk?, mutta astui hiljaa. N?ytti silt? kuin h?n huoneesen jouduttuaan olisi alin-omaa pelj?nnyt s?rkev?ns? ja kaatavansa kumoon kaikki, jonka vuoksi h?n siirtyelikin paikasta toiseen varovasti, enimm?kseen vaan kuve edell?, ik??nkuin varkain. Voimaa h?nell? oli todellakin kuin Herkuleella, ja siksi h?n olikin suuressa arvossa pidetty mies paikkakunnalla: sankareita kunnioittaa meid?n kansa viel? t?n?kin p?iv?n?. Kulki h?nen voimastaan tarujakin kaikenlaisia. Kerrottiin ett? h?n oli mets?ss? kerran kohdannut karhun, ja v?h?n puuttui ett'ei paiskannut karhua maahan. Kerrotaan kuinka h?n mehil?ispesill??n kerran oli tavannut vieraan talonpojan, varkaan, ja heitt?nyt miehen hevosineen rattaineen p?ivineen yli aidan, ynn? muuta semmoista. Itse h?n ei koskaan voimillansa kerskaillut.
- "Jos minun k?sivarressani asuu siunaus", n?in h?n puheli, "niin
Jumalanhan se on tahdosta."
Ylpe? h?n oli, ei kumminkaan voimistansa vaan arvostaan, syntyper?st??n, ?lyst??n.
- "Meid?n suku on ruostalaista alkuper??" (h?n ei osannut sanoa "ruotsalaista"). "Kanta-is? oli Ruostalainen, Harlus", niin h?n vakuutteli. "H?n tuli Ven?j?lle silloin kuin maata hallitsi ruhtinas Ivan Wasiljevitsh Synkk?, - katsopas, silloin jo! Eik? halainnutkaan t?m? ruostalainen Harlus olla suomalaisena kreivin?, mutta tahtoi tulla ven?l?iseksi aatelisherraksi ja piirtikin nimens? kultaiseen kirjaan. Niin, sielt? asti se on Harlovien alku!... Ja siit? samasta syyst? me Harlow'in suvun j?senet olemmekin kaikki valkoverisi?, vaaleasilm?isi? ja puhtaita kasvoilta kuin pulmuset."
- "Mutta kuulkaas Martin Petrovitsh!" yritin min? kerran panna
vastaan. "Ivan Wasiljevitsh Synkk?? ei ole koskaan ollutkaan, vaan Ivan
Wasiljevitsh Julma on ollut. Synk?ksi sanottiin suurta Wasili
Wasiljevitsh'i?."
- "?l? valehtele!" vastasi Harlow hyvin tyyneesti. "Kun min? sen kerran niin sanoin, niin tottahan se niin on!"
?iti vainaja koetti kerran kiitt?? h?nt? h?nen todellakin erin-omaisesta rehellisyydest??n.
- "Olkaa tuossa Natalia Niholajewna!" virkkoi toinen melkein harmissaan. "Kyll?p?s nyt l?ydettiin kiittelemisen syy! Eih?n meid?n, herrasv?en, sovi muuta ollakaan, jottei raaka rahvas, ty?mies, rahan-alainen mies uskaltaisi meist? pahaa ajatellakaan! Min?, Harlow - min? luen sukuni aina sielt? astikka (h?n viittasi sormellaan jonnekin hyvin korkealle lakeen p?in), ja ett?k? min? olisin kunniaton ihminen! Mitenk? se olisi mahdollista?"
Toisen kerran sattui ?itini luona olemaan vieraana muuan korkea virkamies. T?m?n teki mieli hieman pilkata Martin Petrovitsh'ia. Viimeksi mainittu rupesi j?lleen kertomaan ruostalaisesta Harlus herrasta, joka oli tullut Ven?j?lle...
- "Abrahamin ja Isakin aikoina, niink??" keskeytti korkea herra.
-- "Ei Abrahamin aikoina eik? Iisakinkaan, mutta suuren ruhtinaan Ivan
Wasiljevitsh Julman aikana."
- "Min?p? luulen", jatkoi korkea herra, "ett? teid?n sukunne on paljoa vanhempi: sen alkup?? menee aina niihin aikoihin, jolloin maailmassa viel? oli mastodontteja ja megaloterioita..."
N?it? tieteellisi? nimityksi? ei Ivan Petrovitsh ymm?rt?nyt laisinkaan, mutta sen verran h?n k?sitti, ett? korkea herra tahtoi tehd? h?nest? pilkkaa.
- "Saattaa niinkin olla" - tokaisi h?n vastaan, - "kyll?h?n se meid?n suku on hyvin vanha. Ja niinh?n ne kertovat ett? siihen aikaan, jolloin meid?n kanta-is? muutti Moskovaan, siell? asu muuan p?ssin-p??, melkein samanlainen kuin teid?n ylh?isyytenne, ja semmoisia p?ssinp??t? ei synny ei kuin yksi tuhanteen vuoteen."
Ylh?inen herra vimmastui, mutta Harlow se vaan p??t?ns? keikautti taakse p?in, ty?nsi leukansa eteen, ryk?si ja meni pois.
Kahden p?iv?n per?st? h?n tuli uudestaan. ?itini nuhtelemaan h?nt?.
- "Se oli vaan neuvoksi ja ojennukseksi h?nelle, hyv? rouva", keskeytti Harlow. "?l? lenn? umpisilmin, kysy ensin kenen kanssa sull' on tekemist?. Kovin on nuori viel? ja tarvitsee opetusta."
Virkamies oli melkein yhden ik?inen Harlow'in kanssa, mutta t?m? j?ttil?inen se piti kaikkia ihmisi? keskenkasvuisina. Kovin h?n todellakin luotti omaan itseens? eik? pelj?nnyt ei niin ket??n!
- "Kukas minulle mit? saa? L?ytyyk?s maailmassa ket??n semmoista ihmist??" kyseli h?n, ja ala sitten ?kki? nauramaan lyhytt?, mutta kajahtelevaa hohotusta.
The novel's protagonist is Fyodor Ivanych Lavretsky, a nobleman who shares many traits with Turgenev. The child of a distant, Anglophile father and a serf mother who dies when he is very young, Lavretsky is brought up at his family's country estate home by a severe maiden aunt, often thought to be based on Turgenev's own mother, who was known for her cruelty.
Sergeevich Turgenev was a major 19th century Russian novelist. His novel Fathers and Sons is his best-known work. The author has written a number of critical essays, plays, poems, and several novelettes. Virgin Soil is a classic of Russian literature published in 1877. Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev portrays educated young people who, under the influence of the Populist movement, renounce the life of their class to take on the dress and life of workers and peasants and conspire with them.
Livia Shelby, 19, is forced into marriage with Damian Alexander - a ruthless CEO with a cold heart. Hate simmers beneath the surface, and sometimes it blurs the line between resentment and desire. But what happens when the love that grows between them is bound by a contract... and forbidden to be spoken? Author's Note: This book has been previously published on several platforms. This version is a revised and improved edition.
To most, Verena passed for a small-town clinic doctor; in truth, she worked quiet miracles. Three years after Isaac fell hopelessly for her and kept vigil through lonely nights, a crash left him in a wheelchair and stripped his memory. To keep him alive, Verena married him, only to hear, "I will never love you." She just smiled. "That works out-I'm not in love with you, either." Entangled in doubt, he recoiled from hope, yet her patience held him fast-kneeling to meet his eyes, palm warm on his hair, steadying him-until her glowing smile rekindled feelings he believed gone forever.
Lyric had spent her life being hated. Bullied for her scarred face and hated by everyone-including her own mate-she was always told she was ugly. Her mate only kept her around to gain territory, and the moment he got what he wanted, he rejected her, leaving her broken and alone. Then, she met him. The first man to call her beautiful. The first man to show her what it felt like to be loved. It was only one night, but it changed everything. For Lyric, he was a saint, a savior. For him, she was the only woman that had ever made him cum in bed-a problem he had been battling for years. Lyric thought her life would finally be different, but like everyone else in her life, he lied. And when she found out who he really was, she realized he wasn't just dangerous-he was the kind of man you don't escape from. Lyric wanted to run. She wanted freedom. But she desired to navigate her way and take back her respect, to rise above the ashes. Eventually, she was forced into a dark world she didn't wish to get involved with.
Maia grew up a pampered heiress-until the real daughter returned and framed her, sending Maia to prison with help from her fiancé and family. Four years later, free and married to Chris, a notorious outcast, everyone assumed Maia was finished. They soon discovered she was secretly a famed jeweler, elite hacker, celebrity chef, and top game designer. As her former family begged for help, Chris smiled calmly. "Honey, let's go home." Only then did Maia realize her "useless" husband was a legendary tycoon who'd adored her from the start.
She was set up by her family and married to a disabled man who was seriously ill as a wedding bride. On their wedding night, they were so tit for tat that they wanted to kill each other. But unexpectedly, the forced marriage became more and more fragrant. The couple worked together to abuse the scum and sweep the world. "Honey, I want a gift." That night, a man booked the auction house and spent 50 billion to surprise her, which shocked the whole world. "Honey, I like a villa." The next day, a man bought everything within a few thousand miles. "Good girl, it's all yours." "Honey, I want to..." "Let me guess." The man interrupted her and threw her down. "You want a baby."
Janet was adopted when she was a kid -- a dream come true for orphans. However, her life was anything but happy. Her adoptive mother taunted and bullied her all her life. Janet got the love and affection of a parent from the old maid who raised her. Unfortunately, the old woman fell ill, and Janet had to marry a worthless man in place of her parents' biological daughter to meet the maid's medical expenses. Could this be a Cinderella's tale? But the man was far from a prince, except for his handsome appearance. Ethan was the illegitimate son of a wealthy family who lived a reckless life and barely made ends meet. He got married to fulfill his mother's last wish. However, on his wedding night, he had an inkling that his wife was different from what he had heard about her. Fate had united the two people with deep secrets. Was Ethan truly the man we thought he was? Surprisingly, he bore an uncanny resemblance to the impenetrable wealthiest man in the city. Would he find out that Janet married him in place of her sister? Would their marriage be a romantic tale or an utter disaster? Read on to unravel Janet and Ethan's journey.
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