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Автор: Leo Tolstoy

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Marry a peasant girl? How am I to set about it?" he asked himself
again, and could not find an answer. "I haven't slept all night,
though, and I can't think it out clearly," he said to himself.
"I'll work it out later. One thing's certain, this night has
decided my fate. All my old dreams of home life were absurd, not
the real thing," he told himself. "It's all ever so much simpler
and better...."
"How beautiful!" he thought, looking at the strange, as it were,
mother-of-pearl shell of white fleecy cloudlets resting right
over his head in the middle of the sky. "How exquisite it all is
in this exquisite night! And when was there time for that
cloud-shell to form? Just now I looked at the sky, and there was
nothing in it-only two white streaks. Yes, and so imperceptibly
too my views of life changed!"

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