Works

A young man goes skipping and bounding along a street in the capital. His movements are gay and alert; there is a sparkle in his eyes, a smirk on his lips, a pleasing flush on his beaming face.... He is all contentment and deli...

'Neither the Jungfrau nor the Finsteraarhorn has yet been trodden by the foot of man!'

The topmost peaks of the Alps ... A whole chain of rugged precipices ...
The very heart of the mountains.
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A peasant woman, a widow, had an only son, a young man of twenty, the best workman in the village, and he died.
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I saw myself, in dream, a youth, almost a boy, in a low-pitched wooden church. The slim wax candles gleamed, spots of red, before the old pictures of the saints.
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The last day of July; for a thousand versts around, Russia, our native land.
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