Bad Weather
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
British (England - South East - Oxford, Sussex) British (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
bad weather By Anton Pavlovich CHEKHOV Big raindrops were pattering on the dark windows. It was one of those disgusting summer holiday rains which, when they have begun last a long time for weeks till the frozen holiday maker grows used to it and sinks into complete apathy. It was cold. There was a feeling of raw, unpleasant dampness. The mother in law of a lawyer called Compassion, and his wife, Najib Vegeta Filipova. Dressed in water proofs and shoulds, I was sitting over the dinner table in the dining room. It was written on the countenance of the elder lady that she wass thank God well fed, well clothed and in good health that she had married her only daughter to a good man and now could play her game of patience with an easy conscience. Her daughter, a rather short, plump, fair young woman of 20 with a gentle, anaemic face, was reading a book with her elbows on the table. Judging from her eyes, she was not so much reading as thinking her own thoughts, which were not in the book. Neither of them spoke. There was the sound of pattering rain, and from the kitchen they could hear the prolonged yawns of the cook. Compassion himself was not at home on rainy days. He did not come to the summer villa but stayed in town. Damp, rainy weather affected his bronchitis and prevented him from working. He was of the opinion that the sight of the grey sky and the tears of rain on the windows deprived one of energy and induced the spleen in the town. Whether it was greater comfort, bad weather was scarcely noticed. After two games of patients, the old lady shuffled the cards and took a glance of her daughter. I have been trying with the cards, whether it will be fine tomorrow on whether our Alexey Stepanovich will come, she said. It is five does since he was here. The weather is a chastisement from God now, just a Philip Bhavna looked indifferently at her mother, got up and began walking up and down the room. The barometer was rising yesterday, she said doubtfully, but they say it is falling again. Today. The old lady laid out the cards in three long rows and shook her head. Do you miss him? She asked, glancing at her daughter. Of course you say you do. I should think so. He hasn't been here for five days in May. The utmost was too. Or at most three days. And now it is serious. Five days. I am not his wife. And yet I miss him. On yesterday, when I heard the barometer was rising, I ordered them to kill a chicken and prepare a car. But Alexis, the panel rich, he likes them. Your poor father couldn't bear fish, but he likes it. He always eats it with relish. My heart aches for him, said the daughter. We are dull, but it is dollars still for him. You know, Mama, I should think so. In the law courts day in and day out and in the empty flat at night, alone like an owl. And what is so awful, Mama? He is alone there. Without servants, there is no one to set the samovar or bring him water. Why didn't he engage a valet for the summer months on What is the use of the summer billet at all? If he does not care for it. I told him there was no need to have it. But no, it is for the sake of your health, he said on what is wrong with my health. It makes me ill that he should have to put up with so much on my account. Looking over her mother's shoulder, the daughter noticed a mistaking the patient's bent down to the table and began correcting it. A silence followed. Both looked at the cards and imagined how they're. Alexis Stepanovich, utterly forlorn, was sitting now in the town in his gloomy, empty study on DH. Working, hungry, exhausted, yearning for his family. Do you know what Mama said? Naji jda, Philip Avner suddenly and her eyes began to shine. If the weather is the same tomorrow, I'll go by the first train and see him in town Anyway, I shall find out how he is. Have a look at him on poor up his tea on both of them began to wonder how it wass that this idea, so simple and easy to carry out, had not occurred to them before. It was only half a now, er in the train to the town of then 20 minutes in a pap, they said a little more on went off to bed in the same room, feeling more contented. Oh ho ho, Lord, forgive us sinners inside the old lady when the clock in the hall struck too. There is no sleeping. You're not asleep, Mama! The daughter asked in a whisper. I keep thinking about Lucia. I only hope he won't ruin his health in town. Goodness knows where he dines and lunches in restaurants and taverns. I have thought about myself, psyched the old lady, the heavenly mother, save and preserve him. But the rain, the rain in the morning, the rain was not pattering on the pains, but the sky was still grey. The tree stood looking mournful and at every gust of wind they scattered drops the footprints on the muddy power, the ditches and the rats were full of water. Now Judge Tha Philip Patna made up her mind to go. Give him my love, said the old lady, wrapping her daughter up. Tell him not to think too much about his cases, and he must rest. Let him wrap his throat up when he goes out the weather. God help us and take him the chicken food from home, even if cold is better than it's a restaurant. The daughter went away, saying that she will come back by on evening train or else next morning. But she came back long before dinner time when the old lady was sitting on her trunk in her bedroom and drowsy, thinking what to cook for her son in law's supper. Going into the room, her daughter, pale and agitated, sank on the bed without uttering a word or taking off her hat on DH, pressed her head into the pillow. But what is the mutter? Said the old lady in surprise. Why back so soon? Where is Alexis Stepanovich now? Judged up? Philip Avner raised her head and gazed at her mother with dry, imploring eyes. He is deceiving us, Mama, she said. What you saying, Christ be with you, quite. The old lady in alarm and her cap slipped off her head. Who is going to deceive us? Lord, have mercy on us. He is deceiving us, Mama repeated. Her daughter on her chin began to quiver. How do you know? Quite the old lady turning pale. Our flat is locked up. The porter tells me that Alyosha has not bean home once for these five days. He is not living at home. He's not at home