Τo Agnes Tobin who brought to our door her genius for friendship from the uttermost shore of the West...

“I would take liberty from any hand as a hungry man would snatch a piece of bread.” Miss Haldin...

It must be admitted that by the mere force of circumstances Under Western Eyes has become already a sort of historical novel dealing with the past. This reflection bears entirely upon the events of th...

To begin with I wish to disclaim the possession of those high gifts of imagination and expression which would have enabled my pen to create for the reader the personality of the man who called himself...

The origin of Mr. Razumov’s record is connected with an event characteristic of modern Russia in the actual fact: the assassination of a prominent statesman⁠—and still more characteristic of the moral...

The words and events of that evening must have been graven as if with a steel tool on Mr. Razumov’s brain since he was able to write his relation with such fullness and precision a good many months af...

Approaching this part of Mr. Razumov’s story, my mind, the decent mind of an old teacher of languages, feels more and more the difficulty of the task. The task is not in truth the writing in the narra...

In the conduct of an invented story there are, no doubt, certain proprieties to be observed for the sake of clearness and effect. A man of imagination, however inexperienced in the art of narrative, h...

In the conduct of an invented story there are, no doubt, certain proprieties to be observed for the sake of clearness and effect. A man of imagination, however inexperienced in the art of narrative, h...

Our daily relations were interrupted at this period for something like a fortnight. I had to absent myself unexpectedly from Geneva. On my return I lost no time in directing my steps up the Boulevard ...

We remained looking at each other for a time. “Do you know who he is?” Miss Haldin, coming forward, put this question to me in English. I took her offered hand. “Everybody knows. He is a revolutionary...

Several days elapsed before I met Nathalie Haldin again. I was crossing the place in front of the theatre when I made out her shapely figure in the very act of turning between the gate pillars of the ...

With a quick inclination of the head for us both, and an earnest, friendly glance at the young man, Miss Haldin left us covering our heads and looking after her straight, supple figure receding rapidl...

The water under the bridge ran violent and deep. Its slightly undulating rush seemed capable of scouring out a channel for itself through solid granite while you looked. But had it flowed through Razu...

The water under the bridge ran violent and deep. Its slightly undulating rush seemed capable of scouring out a channel for itself through solid granite while you looked. But had it flowed through Razu...

The Egeria of the “Russian Mazzini” produced, at first view, a strong effect by the deathlike immobility of an obviously painted face. The eyes appeared extraordinarily brilliant. The figure, in a clo...

Razumov, thus left to himself, took the direction of the gate. But on this day of many conversations, he discovered that very probably he could not leave the grounds without having to hold another one...

In his incertitude of the ground on which he stood Razumov felt perturbed. Turning his head quickly, he saw two men on the opposite side of the road. Seeing themselves noticed by Sophia Antonovna, the...

That I should, at the beginning of this retrospect, mention again that Mr. Razumov’s youth had no one in the world, as literally no one as it can be honestly affirmed of any human being, is but a stat...

That I should, at the beginning of this retrospect, mention again that Mr. Razumov’s youth had no one in the world, as literally no one as it can be honestly affirmed of any human being, is but a stat...

“Perhaps life is just that,” reflected Razumov, pacing to and fro under the trees of the little island, all alone with the bronze statue of Rousseau. “A dream and a fear.” The dusk deepened. The pages...

“You will come in for a moment?” said Natalia Haldin. I demurred on account of the late hour. “You know mother likes you so much,” she insisted. “I will just come in to hear how your mother is.” She s...

Razumov walked straight home on the wet glistening pavement. A heavy shower passed over him; distant lightning played faintly against the fronts of the dumb houses with the shuttered shops all along t...

It was nearly a fortnight after her mother’s funeral that I saw Natalia Haldin for the last time. In those silent, sombre days the doors of the appartement on the Boulevard des Philosophes were closed...