Emma Watson Pussy
Anna Karenina 89


Banned Celebs






Emma Watson Pussy



Books:

Anna Karenina

War And Peace




was brought face to face with that opposing force. He knew that however much they tried, they could not hire more than forty--thirty-seven perhaps or thirty-eight-- laborers for a reasonable sum. Some forty had been taken on, and there were no more. But still he could not help struggling against it. "Send to Sury, to Tchefirovka; if they dont come we must look for them." "Oh, Ill send, to be sure," said Vassily Fedorovitch despondently. "But there are the horses, too, theyre not good for much." "Well get some more. I know, of course," Levin added laughing, "you always want to do with as little and as poor quality as possible; but this year Im not going to let you have things your own way. Ill see to everything myself." "Why, I dont think you take much rest as it is. It cheers us up to work under the masters eye..." "So theyre sowing clover behind the Birch Dale? Ill go and have a look at them," he said, getting on to the little bay cob, Kolpik, who was led up by the coachman. "You cant get across the streams, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," the coachman shouted. "All right, Ill go by the forest." And Levin rode through the slush of the farmyard to the gate and out into the open country, his good little horse, after his long inactivity, stepping out gallantly, snorting over the pools, and asking, as it were, for guidance. If Levin had felt happy before in the cattle pens and farmyard, he felt happier yet in the open country. Swaying rhythmically with the ambling paces of his good little cob, drinking in the warm yet fresh scent of the snow and the air, as he rode through his forest over the crumbling, wasted snow, still left in parts, and covered with dissolving tracks, he rejoiced over every tree, with the moss reviving on its bark and the buds swelling on its shoots. When he came out of the forest, in the immense plain before him, his grass fields stretched in an unbroken carpet of green, without one bare place or swamp, only spotted here and there in the hollows with patches of melting snow. He was not put out of temper even by the sight of the peasants horses and colts trampling down his young grass (he told a peasant he met to drive them out), nor by the sarcastic and stupid reply of the peasant Ipat, whom he met on the way, and asked, "Well, Ipat, shall we soon be sowing?" "We must get the ploughing done first, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," answered Ipat. The further he rode, the happier he became, and plans for the land rose to his mind each better than the last; to plant all his fields with hedges along the southern borders, so that the snow should not lie under them; to divide them up into six fields of arable and three of pasture and hay; to build a cattle yard at the further end of the estate, and to dig a pond and to construct movable pens for the cattle as a means of manuring the land. And then eight hundred acres of wheat, three hundred of potatoes, and four hundred of clover, and not one acre exhausted. Absorbed in such dreams, carefully keeping his horse by the hedges, so as not to trample his young crops, he rode up to the laborers who had been sent to sow clover. A cart with the seed in it was standing, not at the edge, but in the middle of the crop, and the winter corn had been torn up by the wheels and trampled by the horse. Both the laborers were sitting in the hedge, probably smoking a pipe together. The earth in the cart, with which the seed was mixed, was not crushed to powder, but crusted together or adhering in clods. Seeing the master, the laborer, Vassily, went towards the cart, while Mishka set to work sowing. This was not as it should be, but with the laborers Levin seldom lost his temper. When Vassily came up, Levin told him to lead the horse to the hedge. "Its all right, sir, itll spring up again," responded Vassily. "Please dont argue," said Levin, "but do as youre told." "Yes, sir," answered Vassily, and he took the horses head. "What a sowing, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," he said, hesitating; "first rate. Only its a work to get about! You drag a ton of earth

Anna Karenina page 88        Anna Karenina page 90