Emma Watson Pussy
War And Peace
what happened at the club anything else), forming inappropriately
friendly relations with a man with whom his wife had once been in
love, and a still more inappropriate call upon a woman who could
only be called a lost woman, after being fascinated by that woman
and causing his wife distress--he could still go quietly to
sleep. But under the influence of fatigue, a sleepless night,
and the wine he had drunk, his sleep was sound and untroubled.
At five oclock the creak of a door opening waked him. He jumped
up and looked round. Kitty was not in bed beside him. But there
was a light moving behind the screen, and he heard her steps.
"What is it?...what is it?" he said, half-asleep. "Kitty!
What is it?"
"Nothing," she said, coming from behind the screen with a candle
in her hand. "I felt unwell," she said, smiling a particularly
sweet and meaning smile.
"What? has it begun?" he said in terror. "We ought to send..."
and hurriedly he reached after his clothes.
"No, no," she said, smiling and holding his hand. "Its sure to
be nothing. I was rather unwell, only a little. Its all over
And getting into bed, she blew out the candle, lay down and was
still. Though he thought her stillness suspicious, as though she
were holding her breath, and still more suspicious the expression
of peculiar tenderness and excitement with which, as she came
from behind the screen, she said "nothing," he was so sleepy that
he fell asleep at once. Only later he remembered the stillness
of her breathing, and understood all that must have been passing
in her sweet, precious heart while she lay beside him, not
stirring, in anticipation of the greatest event in a womans
life. At seven oclock he was waked by the touch of her hand on
his shoulder, and a gentle whisper. She seemed struggling
between regret at waking him, and the desire to talk to him.
"Kostya, dont be frightened. Its all right. But I fancy....
We ought to send for Lizaveta Petrovna."
The candle was lighted again. She was sitting up in bed, holding
some knitting, which she had been busy upon during the last few
"Please, dont be frightened, its all right. Im not a bit
afraid," she said, seeing his scared face, and she pressed his
hand to her bosom and then to her lips.
He hurriedly jumped up, hardly awake, and kept his eyes fixed on
her, as he put on his dressing gown; then he stopped, still
looking at her. He had to go, but he could not tear himself from
her eyes. He thought he loved her face, knew her expression, her
eyes, but never had he seen it like this. How hateful and
horrible he seemed to himself, thinking of the distress he had
caused her yesterday. Her flushed face, fringed with soft
curling hair under her night cap, was radiant with joy and
Though there was so little that was complex or artificial in
Kittys character in general, Levin was struck by what was
revealed now, when suddenly all disguises were thrown off and the
very kernel of her soul shone in her eyes. And in this
simplicity and nakedness of her soul, she, the very woman he
loved in her, was more manifest than ever. She looked at him,
smiling; but all at once her brows twitched, she threw up her
head, and going quickly up to him, clutched his hand and pressed
close up to him, breathing her hot breath upon him. She was in
pain and was, as it were, complaining to him of her suffering.
And for the first minute, from habit, it seemed to him that he
was to blame. But in her eyes there was a tenderness that told
him that she was far from reproaching him, that she loved him for
her sufferings. "If not I, who is to blame for it?" he thought
unconsciously, seeking someone responsible for this suffering for
him to punish; but there was no one responsible. She was
suffering, complaining, and triumphing in her sufferings, and
rejoicing in them, and loving them. He saw that something
sublime was being accomplished in her soul, but what? He could
not make it out. It was beyond his understanding.
"I have sent to mamma. You go quickly to fetch Lizaveta Petrovna
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