Emma Watson Pussy
War And Peace
Im a criminal. And how could you be so
distressed at such idiocy?"
"Oh, I was sorry for you."
"For me? for me? How mad I am!... But why make you miserable?
Its awful to think that any outsider can shatter our happiness."
"Its humiliating too, of course."
"Oh, then Ill keep him here all the summer, and will overwhelm
him with civility," said Levin, kissing her hands. "You shall
see. Tomorrow.... Oh, yes, we are going tomorrow."
Next day, before the ladies were up, the wagonette and a trap for
the shooting party were at the door, and Laska, aware since early
morning that they were going shooting, after much whining and
darting to and fro, had sat herself down in the wagonette beside
the coachman, and, disapproving of the delay, was excitedly
watching the door from which the sportsmen still did not come
out. The first to come out was Vassenka Veslovsky, in new high
boots that reached half-way up his thick thighs, in a green
blouse, with a new Russian leather cartridge-belt, and in his
Scotch cap with ribbons, with a brand-new English gun without a
sling. Laska flew up to him, welcomed him, and jumping up, asked
him in her own way whether the others were coming soon, but
getting no answer from him, she returned to her post of
observation and sank into repose again, her head on one side, and
one ear pricked up to listen. At last the door opened with a
creak, and Stepan Arkadyevitchs spot-and-tan pointer Krak flew
out, running round and round and turning over in the air. Stepan
Arkadyevitch himself followed with a gun in his hand and a cigar
in his mouth.
"Good dog, good dog, Krak!" he cried encouragingly to the dog,
who put his paws up on his chest, catching at his game bag.
Stepan Arkadyevitch was dressed in rough leggings and spats, in
torn trousers and a short coat. On his head there was a wreck of
a hat of indefinite form, but his gun of a new patent was a
perfect gem, and his game bag and cartridge belt, though worn,
were of the very best quality.
Vassenka Veslovsky had had no notion before that it was truly
_chic_ for a sportsman to be in tatters, but to have his shooting
outfit of the best quality. He saw it now as he looked at Stepan
Arkadyevitch, radiant in his rags, graceful, well-fed, and
joyous, a typical Russian nobleman. And he made up his mind that
next time he went shooting he would certainly adopt the same
"Well, and what about our host?" he asked.
"A young wife," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, smiling.
"Yes, and such a charming one!"
"He came down dressed. No doubt hes run up to her again."
Stepan Arkadyevitch guessed right. Levin had run up again to his
wife to ask her once more if she forgave him for his idiocy
yesterday, and, moreover, to beg her for Christs sake to be more
careful. The great thing was for her to keep away from the
children--they might any minute push against her. Then he had
once more to hear her declare that she was not angry with him for
going away for two days, and to beg her to be sure to send him a
note next morning by a servant on horseback, to write him, if it
were but two words only, to let him know that all was well with
Kitty was distressed, as she always was, at parting for a couple
of days from her husband, but when she saw his eager figure,
looking big and strong in his shooting-boots and his white
blouse, and a sort of sportsman elation and excitement
incomprehensible to her, she forgot her own chagrin for the sake
of his pleasure, and said good-bye to him cheerfully.
"Pardon, gentlemen!" he said, running out onto the steps. "Have
you put the lunch in? Why is the chestnut on the right? Well,
it doesnt matter. Laska, down; go and lie down!"
"Put it with the herd of oxen," he said to the herdsman, who was
waiting for him at the steps with some question. "Excuse me,
here comes another villain."
Levin jumped out of the wagonette, in which he had already taken
his seat, to meet the carpenter, who came towards the steps with
a rule in his hand.
"You didnt come to the counting house yesterday, and now youre
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