Selected Polish Tales

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H. Milford, Oxford University Press, 1921 - English fiction - 348 pages
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Page 259 - If the world hate you, ye know that it hated me before it hated you. If ye were of the world, the world would love his own : but because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you.
Page 350 - THE best recommendation of The World's Classics is the books themselves, which have earned unstinted praise from critics and all classes of the public. Some...
Page 350 - Nearly five million copies have been sold, and of the volumes already published very many have gone into a second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, or later impression. It is only possible to give so much for the money when large sales are certain. The clearness of the type, the quality of the paper, the size of the page, the printing, and the binding — from the cheapest to the best — cannot fail to commend themselves to all who love good literature presented in worthy...
Page 243 - First of all he wished to know who I was, where I came from and what was my business here.
Page 301 - Everybody knows that we bought the land from him, there are witnesses . . .' 'Bought it? Look at her! You mean to say you're not afraid to lie like that under God's living eyes? Bought it! Cheats, that's what you are, thieves, dogs! You stole the money from him first, and then. . . . Didn't you make him eat out of the pig-pail? Adam is a witness that he had to pick the potatoes out of the pig-pail, ha! You've let him sleep in the cowshed, because, you said, he stank so that you couldn't eat. Fifteen...
Page 284 - growled the other, and glanced suspiciously at her out of the corners of her eyes. 'How do you do? Are you well?' 'Thank God . . . so so . . . ' 'How's the old man? Well?' She was stamping the snow off her clogs near the door. 'Eh . . . how should he be well? He can hardly fetch his breath any more.
Page 282 - Father, eh, father, get up, do you hear? — Eh, get a move on!' 'Oh God, oh Blessed Virgin! Aoh!' groaned the old man, who was being violently shaken. His face peeped out from under his sheepskin, a sunken, battered, and deeply-lined face, of the same colour as the earth he had tilled for so many years; with a shock of hair, grey as the furrows of ploughed fields in autumn. His eyes were closed; breathing heavily he dropped his tongue from his halfopen bluish mouth with cracked lips. 'Get up! hi!
Page 349 - Cloth, gilt back Sultan-red Leather, limp, gilt top Printed on thin paper only Italian, thin boards, gilt design, gilt top Suede, yapp, gilt top Some of the works in two volumes can be had bound in one volume, printed on thin paper, in Sultan-red Leather, limp, gilt top The volumes of Poetry can also be had in the following bindings, as a separate series, known as THE OXFORD POCKET POETS Moroccoette, gilt top French, limp, red under gilt edges Italian, padded, red under gilt edges Suede, padded,...
Page 312 - Those were horses' hoofs stamping the snow. This sound, suppressed as it was, produced in him a peculiar sensation which starts in the head and grips you in the nape of the neck, the consciousness that someone is hiding close to you. Yakob stood quite still at the window, not even moving his pipe from one corner of his mouth to the other. Not he himself seemed to be trembling, only his rags. The door was suddenly thrown open and a soldier appeared on the threshold. The light of a lantern which was...
Page 293 - He opened the linen rag. An expression of greed came into his face, he bent forward towards the fire with his whole frame, so as to hide the money, and counted it over twice. 'How much is it?' She did not know the money values. 'Fifty-four roubles.' 'Lord! So much?' Her eyes shone; she stretched out her hand and fondled the money. 'How did you come by it?' 'Ah bah . . . how? Don't you remember the old man telling us last year that he had put by enough to pay for his funeral?' 'That's right, he did...

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