Emma Watson Pussy
Books:
Anna Karenina
War And Peace
|
know how to say such pretty things," said the
baroness, turning to Petritsky.
"No; whats that for? After dinner I say things quite as good."
"After dinner theres no credit in them? Well, then, Ill make
you some coffee, so go and wash and get ready," said the
baroness, sitting down again, and anxiously turning the screw in
the new coffee pot. "Pierre, give me the coffee," she said,
addressing Petritsky, whom she called Pierre as a contraction of
his surname, making no secret of her relations with him. "Ill
put it in."
"Youll spoil it!"
"No, I wont spoil it! Well, and your wife?" said the baroness
suddenly, interrupting Vronskys conversation with his comrade.
"Weve been marrying you here. Have you brought your wife?"
"No, baroness. I was born a Bohemian, and a Bohemian I shall
die."
"So much the better, so much the better. Shake hands on it."
And the baroness, detaining Vronsky, began telling him, with many
jokes, about her last new plans of life, asking his advice.
"He persists in refusing to give me a divorce! Well, what am I
to do?" (_He_ was her husband.) "Now I want to begin a suit
against him. What do you advise? Kamerovsky, look after the
coffee; its boiling over. You see, Im engrossed with business!
I want a lawsuit, because I must have my property. Do you
understand the folly of it, that on the pretext of my being
unfaithful to him," she said contemptuously, "he wants to get the
benefit of my fortune."
Vronsky heard with pleasure this light-hearted prattle of a
pretty woman, agreed with her, gave her half-joking counsel, and
altogether dropped at once into the tone habitual to him in
talking to such women. In his Petersburg world all people were
divided into utterly opposed classes. One, the lower class,
vulgar, stupid, and, above all, ridiculous people, who believe
that one husband ought to live with the one wife whom he has
lawfully married; that a girl should be innocent, a woman modest,
and a man manly, self-controlled, and strong; that one ought to
bring up ones children, earn ones bread, and pay ones debts;
and various similar absurdities. This was the class of
old-fashioned and ridiculous people. But there was another class
of people, the real people. To this class they all belonged, and
in it the great thing was to be elegant, generous, plucky, gay,
to abandon oneself without a blush to every passion, and to laugh
at everything else.
For the first moment only, Vronsky was startled after the
impression of a quite different world that he had brought with
him from Moscow. But immediately as though slipping his feet
into old slippers, he dropped back into the light-hearted,
pleasant world he had always lived in.
The coffee was never really made, but spluttered over every one,
and boiled away, doing just what was required of it--that is,
providing much cause for much noise and laughter, and spoiling a
costly rug and the baronesss gown.
"Well now, good-bye, or youll never get washed, and I shall have
on my conscience the worst sin a gentleman can commit. So you
would advise a knife to his throat?"
"To be sure, and manage that your hand may not be far from his
lips. Hell kiss your hand, and all will end satisfactorily,"
answered Vronsky.
"So at the Francais!" and, with a rustle of her skirts, she
vanished.
Kamerovsky got up too, and Vronsky, not waiting for him to go,
shook hands and went off to his dressing room.
While he was washing, Petritsky described to him in brief
outlines his position, as far as it had changed since Vronsky had
left Petersburg. No money at all. His father said he wouldnt
give him any and pay his debts. His tailor was trying to get him
locked up, and another fellow, too, was threatening to get him
locked up. The colonel of the regiment had announced that if
these scandals did not cease he would have to leave. As for the
baroness, he was sick to death of her, especially since shed
taken to offering continually to lend him money. But he had
found a girl--hed show her to Vronsky--a marvel, exquisite, in
the strict Oriental style, "genre of the slave Rebecca, dont
you know." Hed had a row, too, with Berkoshov, and was going to
send seconds to him, but of course it would come to nothing.
Altogether everything
Anna Karenina page 64 Anna Karenina page 66
|
