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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.
My marriage ended at a charity gala I organized. One moment, I was the pregnant, happy wife of tech mogul Gabe Sullivan; the next, a reporter' s phone screen announced to the world that he and his childhood sweetheart, Harper, were expecting a child. Across the room, I saw them together, his hand resting on her stomach. This wasn't just an affair; it was a public declaration that erased me and our unborn baby. To protect his company's billion-dollar IPO, Gabe, his mother, and even my own adoptive parents conspired against me. They moved Harper into our home, into my bed, treating her like royalty while I became a prisoner. They painted me as unstable, a threat to the family's image. They accused me of cheating and claimed my child wasn't his. The final command was unthinkable: terminate my pregnancy. They locked me in a room and scheduled the procedure, promising to drag me there if I refused. But they made a mistake. They gave me back my phone to keep me quiet. Feigning surrender, I made one last, desperate call to a number I had kept hidden for years-a number belonging to my biological father, Antony Dean, the head of a family so powerful, they could make my husband's world burn.
On the night of her wedding, Evelyn Knight paid the ultimate price for trusting the wrong man-her husband murdered her with his own hands. But fate grants her a second chance. Reborn on the very day she's meant to marry Nathaniel Andrews, Evelyn wastes no time. This time, she won't be the victim. She escapes the altar and makes a bold move-straight into the arms of her husband's sworn rival. "Mr. Everett, will you marry me?" "This a surrender?" "No," she smirks. "This is a tactical retreat followed by a counterattack." What begins as a calculated alliance quickly spirals into something far more dangerous-obsession, protection, desire. Julian Everett never expected to fall for the woman who barged into his life like a storm. But now that he has her, he won't let her go. This time, Evelyn isn't just rewriting her fate-She's taking her revenge one kiss at a time.
Sophie stepped in for her sister and married a man known for his disfigured looks and reckless past. On their wedding day, his family turned their backs on him, and the town laughed behind their hands, certain the marriage would collapse. But Sophie's career soared, and their love only deepened. Later, during a high-profile event, the CEO of some conglomerate took off his mask, revealing Sophie's husband to be a global sensation. *** Adrian had no interest in his arranged wife and had disguised himself in hopes she would bail. But when Sophie tried to walk away, Adrian broke down and whispered, "Please, Sophie, don't go. One kiss, and I'll give you the world."
Abandoned as a child and orphaned by murder, Kathryn swore she'd reclaim every shred of her stolen birthright. When she returned, society called her an unpolished love-child, scoffing that Evan had lost his mind to marry her. Only Evan knew the truth: the quiet woman he cradled like porcelain hid secrets enough to set the city trembling. She doubled as a legendary healer, an elusive hacker, and the royal court's favorite perfumer. At meetings, the directors groaned at the lovey-dovey couple, "Does she really have to be here?" Evan shrugged. "Happy wife, happy life." Soon her masks fell, and those who sneered bowed in awe.
Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman. As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius. When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval."
Rejected by her mate, who had been her long-time crush, Jasmine felt utterly humiliated. Seeking solace, she headed to a party to drown her sorrows. But things took a turn for the worse when her friends issued a cruel dare: kiss a stranger or beg her mate for forgiveness. With no other choice, Jasmine approached a stranger and kissed him, thinking that would be the end of it. However, the stranger unexpectedly wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered in her ear, "You're mine!" He growled, his words sending shivers down her spine. And then, he offered her a solution that would change everything...
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