Explore "The Grammar of Love" by Ivan Bunin on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A certain Ivlev was once travelling, in the beginning of June, to a distant region of his provence.
The tarantass, with its dusty top all awry, had been given him by his brother-in-law, at whose estate he was passing the summer. The troika10 of small but well-broken horses, with thick matted manes, he had hired in the village, from a wealthy muzhik. They were driven by a son of that muzhik, a lad of eighteen -- a plodding fellow, a good husbandman. He was all the time cogitating about something with displeasure, seemed to be offended at something, could not take a joke. And, having become convinced that there was no possibility of getting into talk with him, Ivlev yielded to that peaceful and aimless observation, which chimes in so well with the beat of hoofs and the jangling of little bells.