世界经典短篇小说100篇

"What can I do for you?" he asked a lady in an antediluvian mantle, whose back view was extremely suggestive of a huge dung-beetle.

In some natures there are no half-tones; nothing but raw primary colours. John Bodman was a man who was always at one extreme or the other.

"Good-bye, Yegor Vlassitch," whispered Pelagea, and she stood on tiptoe to see the white cap once more.

The drawing-room was small, full of heavy draperies and discreetly fragrant.

Out of the low window could be seen three hickory trees placed irregularly in a meadow that was resplendent in spring-time green.

SHE sat at the window watching the evening invade the avenue. Her head was leaned against the window curtains and in her nostrils was the odour of dusty cretonne. She was tired.

What! Have you never heard the story of the Man in the Moon? Then I must surely tell it, for it is very amusing, and there is not a word of truth in it.

Conradin was ten years old, and the doctor had pronounced his professional opinion that the boy would not live another five years.

In 1830, only a few miles away from what is now the great city of Cincinnati, lay an immense and almost unbroken forest.