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120
SÖNYA KOVALÉVSKY
sixty versts lay through a pine forest of thick pines,
fit for ships’ masts, broken only by a multitude of
lakes and lakelets. In winter these lakes became
huge, snowy fields, on which the dark pines
surrounding them were sharply delineated.
Traveling was delightful by day, and still better
by night. If you forgot yourself for a moment, you
were awakened by a jolt, and for a minute you could
not remember where you were. From the top of the
carriage hangs a small traveling-lantern, illuminating
two strange, sleeping figures, in big fur-cloaks and
white traveling-hoods. I cannot at once recognize
my mother and sister. Fantastic silver patterns start
out on the windows of the carriage; the sleigh-bells
jingle incessantly — all this is so strange, so unusual,
that one understands nothing; only one feels a dull
pain in one’s limbs, caused by the uncomfortable
attitude. All at once consciousness dawns on the mind
with a bright gleam,— of where we are, whither we
are going, and so much that is good and new which
awaits us,— and all my soul is filled to overflowing
with engrossing, dazzling happiness!
Yes, that was a splendid journey! And it remains
almost the pleasantest memory of my childhood.
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