But The Main Thing, For What My Fleeting

But the main thing, for what my fleeting glimpse was hooked, there were sharp wrinkles at lips on his face - traces not so much the lived years, how many the endured troubles. They have forced me to look at it for on persons of the contemporaries of any traces of sufferings I never observed more steadfastly: not to consider for experiences drunk tears which at these always lie nearby. He politely spoke at this time with someone through the table forced by meal, in a profile to me. Us have presented, he has smiled to me and is strong, but has not painfully shaken hands. About, my God! His eyes! On-rysi clear, their sight exhaled such quiet force and internal self-control that all my being the charge in one million has from top to bottom punched volt: "It has come! He/she is my mister!" Till this second I and words such with reference to myself could not present, but, probably, everything that has collected for these years, has at once blown up - because of a stream of its quiet force, confidence, the man's leadership, proceeding from it.