Interactive English

Madame Nashatyrin is fed up with violent behaviour and foul language emanating from an abusive male guest next door. She has two grown-up daughters and is concerned about their well-being when complaining to the hotel-keeper. 'Either give me other apartments, or I shall leave your confounded hotel altogether! It's a sink of iniquity! Why don't you get rid of the scoundrel?' But as soon as the marital status of the scoundrel is revealed, she meditates and concludes that there's something good in everyone after all.

A piano tuner called Murkin, a close-shaven man with a yellow face, with a nose stained with snuff and cotton wool in his ears, came out of his hotel room into the passage. And looking at his frightened face one might have supposed that the ceiling had fallen in on him. 'Upon my word, Semyon!' he cried, seeing the attendant running towards him. 'What is the meaning of it? I am a rheumatic, delicate man and you make me go barefoot! Why is it you don't give me my boots all this time? Where are they?'

Natalya just returned from Yalta, Crimea, and is telling her husband over dinner of all the charms of Crimea. Her husband, delighted, gazes tenderly at her enthusiastic face, listens, and from time to time puts in a question. Natalya's never-ceasing babble gets her into serious trouble, however. She is eager to expose her friend Yulia for some indiscretion with a local guide, and this leads to revelations of Natalya's own 'gay' times with one of the Tatar guides.

A crafty, boots-wearing cat named Puss and how he made a fortune for his young, not very rich master and made friends with a great monarch, Marquis Carabas. Read in English, unabridged.

Polinka, a thin fair little person whose mother is the head of a dressmaking establishment, is standing in the middle of the shop looking about for some one. Nikolay Timofeitch, a graceful dark young man, fashionably dressed, with frizzled hair and a big pin in his cravat, has already cleared a place on the counter and is craning forward, looking at Polinka with a smile.

Obviously he was born a mouse catcher, a worthy son of his bloodthirsty ancestors. Fate had destined him to be the terror of cellars, storerooms and corn bins, and had it not been for education....

Once upon a time, two poor woodcutters were making their way home through a great pine forest. It was winter and a night of bitter cold. The snow lay thick upon the ground and upon the branches of the trees; the frost kept snapping the little twigs on either side of them as they passed; and when they came to the Mountain Torrent, she was hanging motionless in air, for the Ice King had kissed her. Read in English, unabridged.

Once upon a time, there was a king and a queen who were very sorry that they had no children - so sorry that it cannot be told. At last, however, the queen had a daughter. There was a very fine christening, and the princess had for her godmothers all the fairies they could find in the whole kingdom (there were seven of them), so that every one of them might confer a gift upon her, as was the custom of fairies in those days. By this means the princess had all the perfections imaginable.

Little Hans spends most of his time gardening and makes a living from sales of his beautiful flowers. Little Hans always treats his neighbours well and even allows the neighbouring rich miller to pick flowers from his garden. But the miller rarely invites Hans into his house or responds in kind. The miller instead has his own philosophy of friendship: 'Lots of people act well, but very few people talk well, which shows that talking is much the more difficult thing of the two, and much the finer thing also'.

Johnny Town-mouse was born in a cupboard. Timmy Willie was born in a garden. Timmy Willie was a little country mouse who went to town by mistake in a hamper. The gardener sent vegetables to town once a week by carrier; he packed them in a big hamper.

Listen to the story of Jemima Puddle-duck, who was annoyed because the farmer's wife would not let her hatch her own eggs.

'Ovsyanikov reminded me of the Russian boyars of the times before Peter the Great...The national holiday dress would have suited him well. He was one of the last men left of the old time. All his neighbours had a great respect for him, and considered it an honour to be acquainted with him. His fellow peasant-proprietors almost worshipped him, and took off their hats to him from a distance: they were proud of him.'

It was past midnight. Nikolay Yevgrafitch knew his wife would not be home very soon, not till five o'clock at least. He did not trust her, and when she was long away he could not sleep, was worried, and at the same time he despised his wife, and her bed, and her looking-glass, and her boxes of sweets, and the hyacinths, and the lilies of the valley which were sent her every day by someone or other, and which diffused the sickly fragrance of a florist's shop all over the house.

Once upon a time there was a little girl called Lucie, who lived at a farm called Little-town. She was a good little girl - only she was always losing her pocket-handkerchiefs! One day little Lucie came into the farm-yard crying - oh, she did cry so! I’ve lost my pocket-handkin! Three handkins and a pinny! Have you seen them, Tabby Kitten?

Once upon a time there was a little fat comfortable grey squirrel, called Timmy Tiptoes. He had a nest thatched with leaves in the top of a tall tree; and he had a little squirrel wife called Goody. Every day they made several journeys and picked quantities of nuts. They carried them away in bags, and stored them in several hollow stumps near the tree where they had built their nest.

In the cheapest room of a big block of furnished apartments Stepan Klotchkov, a medical student in his third year, was walking to and fro, zealously conning his anatomy. In the window, covered by patterns of frost, sat Anyuta, a thin little brunette of five-and-twenty, very pale with mild grey eyes. Sitting with bent back she was busy embroidering with red thread the collar of a man's shirt. She was working against time....

Once upon a time there was a miller who left no more riches to the three sons he had than his mill, his ass, and his cat. The division was soon made. Neither the lawyer nor the attorney was sent for. They would soon have eaten up all the poor property. The eldest had the mill, the second the ass, and the youngest nothing but the cat. Read in English, unabridged.

Once upon a time there was a village shop. The name over the window was Ginger and Pickles. The counter inside was a convenient height for rabbits. Ginger and Pickles sold red spotty pocket-handkerchiefs at a penny three farthings. They also sold sugar, and snuff and galoshes.

One morning a little rabbit sat on a bank. He pricked his ears and listened to the trit-trot, trit-trot of a pony. A gig was coming along the road; it was driven by Mr. McGregor, and beside him sat Mrs. McGregor in her best bonnet.

As soon as they had passed, little Benjamin Bunny slid down into the road, and set off - with a hop, skip, and a jump - to call upon his relations, who lived in the wood at the back of Mr. McGregor's garden.

High above the city, on a tall column, stands the statue of the Happy Prince. He is gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he has two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glows on his sword hilt. He is very much admired by the town officials, yet a lot of poor people suffer here.