Voskresenīe

by Лев Толстой

About This Book

THOUGH hundreds of thousands had done their very best to disfigure the small piece of land on which they were crowded together: paving the ground with stones, scraping away every vestige of vegetation, cutting down the trees, turning away bird and beasts, filling the air with the smoke of naphtha and coal-still spring was spring, even in the town.