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Anna Karenina 421

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Anna Karenina

War And Peace

smoke would be now!... To be saved, one need only believe, and the monks dont know how the things to be done, but Countess Lidia Ivanovna does know.... And why is my head so heavy? Is it the cognac, or all this being so queer? Anyway, I fancy Ive done nothing unsuitable so far. But anyway, it wont do to ask her now. They say they make one say ones prayers. I only hope they wont make me! Thatll be too imbecile. And what stuff it is shes reading! but she has a good accent. Landau--Bezzubov-- whats he Bezzubov for?" All at once Stepan Arkadyevitch became aware that his lower jaw was uncontrollably forming a yawn. He pulled his whiskers to cover the yawn, and shook himself together. But soon after he became aware that he was dropping asleep and on the very point of snoring. He recovered himself at the very moment when the voice of Countess Lidia Ivanovna was saying "hes asleep." Stepan Arkadyevitch started with dismay, feeling guilty and caught. But he was reassured at once by seeing that the words "hes asleep" referred not to him, but to Landau. The Frenchman was asleep as well as Stepan Arkadyevitch. But Stepan Arkadyevitchs being asleep would have offended them, as he thought (though even this, he thought, might not be so, as everything seemed so queer), while Landaus being asleep delighted them extremely, especially Countess Lidia Ivanovna. _"Mon ami,"_ said Lidia Ivanovna, carefully holding the folds of her silk gown so as not to rustle, and in her excitement calling Karenin not Alexey Alexandrovitch, but _"mon ami," "donnez-lui la main. Vous voyez? Sh!"_ she hissed at the footman as he came in again. "Not at home." The Frenchman was asleep, or pretending to be asleep, with his head on the back of his chair, and his moist hand, as it lay on his knee, made faint movements, as though trying to catch something. Alexey Alexandrovitch got up, tried to move carefully, but stumbled against the table, went up and laid his hand in the Frenchmans hand. Stepan Arkadyevitch got up too, and opening his eyes wide, trying to wake himself up if he were asleep, he looked first at one and then at the other. It was all real. Stepan Arkadyevitch felt that his head was getting worse and worse. _"Que la personne qui est arrivee la derniere, celle qui demande, quelle sorte! Quelle sorte!"_ articulated the Frenchman, without opening his eyes. _"Vous mexcuserez, mais vous voyez.... Revenez vers dix heures, encore mieux demain."_ _"Quelle sorte!"_ repeated the Frenchman impatiently. _"Cest moi, nest-ce pas?"_ And receiving an answer in the affirmative, Stepan Arkadyevitch, forgetting the favor he had meant to ask of Lidia Ivanovna, and forgetting his sisters affairs, caring for nothing, but filled with the sole desire to get away as soon as possible, went out on tiptoe and ran out into the street as though from a plague-stricken house. For a long while he chatted and joked with his cab-driver, trying to recover his spirits. At the French theater where he arrived for the last act, and afterwards at the Tatar restaurant after his champagne, Stepan Arkadyevitch felt a little refreshed in the atmosphere he was used to. But still he felt quite unlike himself all that evening. On getting home to Pyotr Oblonskys, where he was staying, Stepan Arkadyevitch found a note from Betsy. She wrote to him that she was very anxious to finish their interrupted conversation, and begged him to come next day. He had scarcely read this note, and frowned at its contents, when he heard below the ponderous tramp of the servants, carrying something heavy. Stepan Arkadyevitch went out to look. It was the rejuvenated Pyotr Oblonsky. He was so drunk that he could not walk upstairs; but he told them to set him on his legs when he saw Stepan Arkadyevitch, and clinging to him, walked with him into his room and there began telling him how he had spent the evening, and fell asleep doing so. Stepan Arkadyevitch was in very low spirits, which happened rarely with him, and for a long while he could not go to sleep. Everything he could recall to his mind, everything was disgusting; but most disgusting of all, as if it were something shameful, was the memory of the evening he had spent at Countess Lidia Ivanovnas. Next day he received from Alexey Alexandrovitch a final

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