Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    Ariadne (Translated)
    Ariadne (Translated)
    Ariadne (Translated)
    Ebook38 pages29 minutes

    Ariadne (Translated)

    By Anton Chekhov

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Travelling from Odessa and Sevastopol, the narrator on board the steamboat meets a man called Ivan Shamokhin, who tells him a story of his love for a woman named Ariadna Kotlovich. Initially he is just dazzled by her beauty, gracefulness, originality, wit and intelligence; to him she is an epitome of perfection. Gradually he comes to realize that there is vanity and coldness behind her shiny charisma. She loves seeing Shamokhin around, but only because the fact that a young man so attractive and virtuous is so obviously infatuated with her, gives her great pleasure. His attempts at escaping are all in vain: he is now totally under the spell of Ariadna…
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherInteractive Media
    Release dateJan 20, 2020
    ISBN9781787361263
    Ariadne (Translated)
    Author

    Anton Chekhov

    Anton Pavlovich Chekhov (1860–1904) was a Russian doctor, playwright, and author. His best known works include the plays The Seagull (1896), Uncle Vanya (1900), and The Cherry Orchard (1904), and the short stories “The Lady with the Dog,” “Peasants,” and “The Darling.” One of the most influential and widely anthologized writers in Russian history, Chekhov spent most of his career as a practicing physician and devoted much of his energy to treating the poor, free of charge. He died of tuberculosis in 1904.  

    Read more from Anton Chekhov

    Related to Ariadne (Translated)

    Titles in the series (23)

    View More
    View More

    Related ebooks

    Romance For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      In 'Hurricane Season,' Words Swirl Wild And Dark

      Apr 2, 2020

      Fernanda Melchor's poetic, foul-mouthed new novel sits on the border between crime fiction and horror: A woman known as the Witch has been murdered, and her neighbors want to know who did it and why/

      3 min read

    • Article

      Re-Covered: The Mischief

      Dec 2, 2019

      Re-Covered: The Mischief
      8 min read

    • Article

      Peak Time

      Jun 11, 2021

      Peak Time
      7 min read

    • Article

      Two Poems

      Nov 1, 2021

      I spent all my avocado moneyby the light of Saint Martin de PorresI often think about bank robberyWhat wig I would wear, what fun it would beto harm no one and dump a million dollarsover the hills that belong to everyonefrom an airplane that I teach

      1 min read

    • Article

      Bookshelf

      Aug 3, 2020

      Bookshelf
      7 min read

    • Article

      Cherie Jones

      Jan 7, 2021

      Cherie Jones
      3 min read

    • Article

      Sarah’s BOOK CHOICES

      Apr 2, 2020

      I first read this when I was nine and it terrified me. We’d just moved into a Victorian house, where my bedroom was in the attic. I was convinced Bertha Mason lived in the box room and would set fire to me each night. The ‘mad woman in the attic’ is

      1 min read

    • Article

      Farewell To The Flesh

      Nov 2, 2022

      Farewell To The Flesh
      4 min read

    • Article

      Jenkins

      Feb 4, 2021

      Jenkins
      6 min read

    • Article

      Creative Sparks

      Aug 20, 2021

      Creative Sparks
      3 min read

    • Article

      In The Spotlight:your Writing Dark Side

      Dec 7, 2023

      Spooky season evidently offered creative inspiration aplenty for the WM writers, who responded to the call for writing in November’s crime-themed issue on the theme of ‘Dark Side’ with our fullest mailbox yet. The poetry and prose sent in demonstrate

      4 min read

    • Article

      On Invisible Beauty

      Mar 15, 2018

       Beauty spins and the mind moves. To catch beauty would be to understand how that impertinent stability in vertigo is possible. But no, delight need not reach so far. To be running breathlessly, but not yet arrived, is itself delightful, a suspended

      10 min read

    • Article

      Messages Of Hope

      Jun 22, 2022

      Messages Of Hope
      5 min read

    • Article

      Poets

      Dec 1, 2020

      Poets
      19 min read

    • Article

      Life In The past Lane

      Aug 27, 2021

      Life In The past Lane
      5 min read

    • Article

      Justice

      Mar 15, 2018

      I had been told that the interviewer was waiting for me outside in the hotel garden. The muffled oceanic roar of traffic rose steadily from the nearby road. She was sitting alone on a bench amid the raw planted beds and network of gravel paths, gazin

      22 min read

    • Article

      ‘We Are Bridges’: Featured Nonfiction from Cassandra Lane

      Apr 20, 2021

      Lane's memoir, which won the 2020 Louise Meriwether First Book Prize, explores the author's ancestral history in order to give her future child a family history. The post ‘We Are Bridges’: Featured Nonfiction from Cassandra Lane appeared first on The

      8 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for Ariadne (Translated)

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      Ariadne (Translated) - Anton Chekhov

      Anton Chekhov

      Anton Chekhov

      Ariadne

      New Edition

      New Edition

      Published by Sovereign Classic

      This Edition

      First published in 2020

      Copyright © 2020 Sovereign

      All Rights Reserved.

      ISBN: 9781787361263

      Contents

      ARIADNE

      NOTES

      ARIADNE

      ON the deck of a steamer sailing from Odessa to Sevastopol, a rather good-looking gentleman, with a little round beard, came up to me to smoke, and said:

      Notice those Germans sitting near the shelter? Whenever Germans or Englishmen get together, they talk about the crops, the price of wool, or their personal affairs. But for some reason or other when we Russians get together we never discuss anything but women and abstract subjects -- but especially women.

      This gentleman’s face was familiar to me already. We had returned from abroad the evening before in the same train, and at Volotchisk when the luggage was being examined by the Customs, I saw him standing with a lady, his travelling companion, before a perfect mountain of trunks and baskets filled with ladies’ clothes, and I noticed how embarrassed and downcast he was when he had to pay duty on some piece of silk frippery, and his companion protested and threatened to make a complaint. Afterwards, on the way to Odessa, I saw him carrying little pies and oranges to the ladies’ compartment.

      It was rather damp; the vessel swayed a little, and the ladies had retired to their cabins.

      The gentleman with the little round beard sat down beside me and continued:

      "Yes, when Russians come together they discuss nothing but abstract subjects and women. We are so intellectual, so solemn, that we utter nothing but truths and can discuss only questions of a lofty order. The Russian actor does not know how to be funny; he acts with profundity even in a farce. We’re just the same: when we have got to talk of trifles we treat them only from an exalted point of view. It comes from a lack of boldness, sincerity, and simplicity. We talk so often about women, I fancy, because we are dissatisfied. We take too ideal a view of women, and make demands out of all proportion with what reality can give us; we get something utterly different from what we want, and the result is dissatisfaction, shattered hopes, and inward suffering, and if any one is suffering, he’s bound to talk of it. It does not bore you to go on with this conversation?

      No, not in the least.

      In that case, allow me to introduce myself, said my companion, rising from his seat a little:

      Ivan Ilyitch Shamohin, a Moscow landowner of a sort. . . . You I know very well.

      He sat down and went on, looking at me with a genuine and friendly expression:

      "A mediocre philosopher, like Max Nordau, would explain these incessant conversations about women as a form of erotic madness, or would put it down to our having been slave-owners and so on; I take quite a different view of it. I repeat, we are dissatisfied because we are idealists. We want the creatures

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1