Emma Watson Pussy
Books:
Anna Karenina
War And Peace
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fetching a very
good price--so much so that Im afraid of this fellows crying
off, in fact. You know its not timber," said Stepan
Arkadyevitch, hoping by this distinction to convince Levin
completely of the unfairness of his doubts. "And it wont run to
more than twenty-five yards of fagots per acre, and hes giving
me at the rate of seventy roubles the acre."
Levin smiled contemptuously. "I know," he thought, "that fashion
not only in him, but in all city people, who, after being twice
in ten years in the country, pick up two or three phrases and use
them in season and out of season, firmly persuaded that they know
all about it. _Timber, run to so many yards the acre._ He says
those words without understanding them himself."
"I wouldnt attempt to teach you what you write about in your
office," said he, "and if need arose, I should come to you to ask
about it. But youre so positive you know all the lore of the
forest. Its difficult. Have you counted the trees?"
"How count the trees?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, laughing, still
trying to draw his friend out of his ill-temper. "Count the
sands of the sea, number the stars. Some higher power might do
it."
"Oh, well, the higher power of Ryabinin can. Not a single
merchant ever buys a forest without counting the trees, unless
they get it given them for nothing, as youre doing now. I know
your forest. I go there every year shooting, and your forests
worth a hundred and fifty roubles an acre paid down, while hes
giving you sixty by installments. So that in fact youre making
him a present of thirty thousand."
"Come, dont let your imagination run away with you," said Stepan
Arkadyevitch piteously. "Why was it none would give it, then?"
"Why, because he has an understanding with the merchants; hes
bought them off. Ive had to do with all of them; I know them.
Theyre not merchants, you know: theyre speculators. He
wouldnt look at a bargain that gave him ten, fifteen per cent
profit, but holds back to buy a roubles worth for twenty
kopecks."
"Well, enough of it! Youre out of temper."
"Not the least," said Levin gloomily, as they drove up to the
house.
At the steps there stood a trap tightly covered with iron and
leather, with a sleek horse tightly harnessed with broad
collar-straps. In the trap sat the chubby, tightly belted clerk
who served Ryabinin as coachman. Ryabinin himself was already in
the house, and met the friends in the hall. Ryabinin was a tall,
thinnish, middle-aged man, with mustache and a projecting
clean-shaven chin, and prominent muddy-looking eyes. He was
dressed in a long-skirted blue coat, with buttons below the waist
at the back, and wore high boots wrinkled over the ankles and
straight over the calf, with big galoshes drawn over them. He
rubbed his face with his handkerchief, and wrapping round him his
coat, which sat extremely well as it was, he greeted them with a
smile, holding out his hand to Stepan Arkadyevitch, as though he
wanted to catch something.
"So here you are," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, giving him his hand.
"Thats capital."
"I did not venture to disregard your excellencys commands,
though the road was extremely bad. I positively walked the whole
way, but I am here at my time. Konstantin Dmitrievitch, my
respects"; he turned to Levin, trying to seize his hand too. But
Levin, scowling, made as though he did not notice his hand, and
took out the snipe. "Your honors have been diverting yourselves
with the chase? What kind of bird may it be, pray?" added
Ryabinin, looking contemptuously at the snipe: "a great
delicacy, I suppose." And he shook his head disapprovingly, as
though he had grave doubts whether this game were worth the
candle.
"Would you like to go into my study?" Levin said in French to
Stepan Arkadyevitch, scowling morosely. "Go into my study; you
can talk there."
"Quite so, where you please," said Ryabinin with contemptuous
dignity, as though wishing to make it felt that others might be
in difficulties as to how to behave, but that he could never be
in any difficulty about anything.
On entering the study Ryabinin looked about, as his habit was, as
though seeking the holy picture, but when he had found it, he did
not cross himself. He scanned the bookcases and bookshelves,
Anna Karenina page 94 Anna Karenina page 96
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