The House by the Dvina Read Online Free Page A

upon the wolf hoping to chase him into the woodshed through the wide-open doors. The wolf, by now, was as terrified as any sheep. Like all creatures cornered he suddenly lunged at his tormentors. Instinctively everyone leaped aside.
    The two little dogs, their tails between their legs, streaked back to the kitchen. The girls screamed in terror. In that split second the wolf darted through, out the gates and away back to the safety of the river and the woods beyond.
    The years are rushing past faster and faster as I grow older. I must hurry for perhaps there is not much time left. There is the consolation that like most old people I can remember with greater clarity the people I knew and the events that took place during my young impressionable years than what happened years later. I can see the house quite clearly in all the seasons of the year. In the summer the rooms appearing flooded in sunlight. I can almost hear the sounds of the river coming through the open windows and smell again the pungent freshness of the great timber rafts slowly floating down to the sawmills. The voices of the women rinsing their washing at the edge of the pier, the shrill laughter of the children bathing or sitting naked on the boulders drying themselves in the sun, all echo back over the years.
    In the winter, as soon as the second frames were placed in the windows, shutting out all sound and the terrible cold, the house became warm and intimate. Soft pools of light on the tables, the peaceful flickering of the lampadas lighting up the sacred faces on the ikon, the sweet humming of the samovar created an atmosphere drawing everyone into a closer circle. The fragrance of birch and pine pervaded all the rooms as the logs burned and crackled inside the great stoves.
    Three main rooms ran the whole length of the house fronting the river.
    They were given an impression of even greater spaciousness by the wide open archways in each connecting wall. These rooms were rarely used, with the exception of the end room in the south-west corner of the house. In this pleasant room, where the comfortable chairs were upholstered in a soft shade of reseda green with matching curtains, my grandmother sometimes entertained her friends. It was essentially a womanТs room with the feminine atmosphere of flowers, photographs and ornaments on small tables.
    The ballroom at the other end was a long impressive room. Suspended from the centre of the ceiling was a bronze and crystal chandelier. Matching candelabras jutted out from the wall. Light gilt chairs lined the walls and a grand piano stood in the corner. Between the windows and the French doors leading out into the balcony were long mirrors in gilt frames stretching up to the ceiling. At the base of each mirror were wrought bronze baskets containing plants and flowers which were reflected in the mirror. Between the ballroom and the end room was the “gosteennaya” Ч the guest-room or drawing-room. The crimson velvet upholstered chairs and sofa, polished mahogany tables displaying family albums, bronze ornamental clocks under glass covers, the porcelain and bric-a-brac in corner cabinets all reflected the heavy fashion of the Victorian period. There were paintings on the walls. One depicted Mary Queen of Scots walking down a flight of steps on her way to her execution.
    Masses of flowers and plants grew on all window sills. My grandmother, whose great hobby and passion were her garden and flowers, grew rare, exotic plants never seen anywhere else in our parts. Oleanders and passion flowers, sweet-smelling lemon trees, fuchsias and pelargoniums, rare cacti and orchids all came in their seasons even in the dead of winter and nodded their lovely heads to the still white landscape outside.
    The golden honey of parquet flooring covered the rooms of the entire house, but in these three rooms the workmanship was extremely fine.
    Hardwood in many shades formed a design that was unusual and beautiful.
    Two young men