《Anna Karenina》Chapter III
Advertisement
When he was dressed, Stepan Arkadyevitch sprinkled some scent on himself, pulled down his shirt-cuffs, distributed into his pockets his cigarettes, pocketbook, matches, and watch with its double chain and seals, and shaking out his handkerchief, feeling himself clean, fragrant, healthy, and physically at ease, in spite of his unhappiness, he walked with a slight swing on each leg into the dining-room, where coffee was already waiting for him, and beside the coffee, letters and papers from the office.
He read the letters. One was very unpleasant, from a merchant who was buying a forest on his wife’s property. To sell this forest was absolutely essential; but at present, until he was reconciled with his wife, the subject could not be discussed. The most unpleasant thing of all was that his pecuniary interests should in this way enter into the question of his reconciliation with his wife. And the idea that he might be led on by his interests, that he might seek a reconciliation with his wife on account of the sale of the forest—that idea hurt him.
When he had finished his letters, Stepan Arkadyevitch moved the office-papers close to him, rapidly looked through two pieces of business, made a few notes with a big pencil, and pushing away the papers, turned to his coffee. As he sipped his coffee, he opened a still damp morning paper, and began reading it.
Stepan Arkadyevitch took in and read a liberal paper, not an extreme one, but one advocating the views held by the majority. And in spite of the fact that science, art, and politics had no special interest for him, he firmly held those views on all these subjects which were held by the majority and by his paper, and he only changed them when the majority changed them—or, more strictly speaking, he did not change them, but they imperceptibly changed of themselves within him.
Stepan Arkadyevitch had not chosen his political opinions or his views; these political opinions and views had come to him of themselves, just as he did not choose the shapes of his hat and coat, but simply took those that were being worn. And for him, living in a certain society—owing to the need, ordinarily developed at years of discretion, for some degree of mental activity—to have views was just as indispensable as to have a hat. If there was a reason for his preferring liberal to conservative views, which were held also by many of his circle, it arose not from his considering liberalism more rational, but from its being in closer accordance with his manner of life. The liberal party said that in Russia everything is wrong, and certainly Stepan Arkadyevitch had many debts and was decidedly short of money. The liberal party said that marriage is an institution quite out of date, and that it needs reconstruction; and family life certainly afforded Stepan Arkadyevitch little gratification, and forced him into lying and hypocrisy, which was so repulsive to his nature. The liberal party said, or rather allowed it to be understood, that religion is only a curb to keep in check the barbarous classes of the people; and Stepan Arkadyevitch could not get through even a short service without his legs aching from standing up, and could never make out what was the object of all the terrible and high-flown language about another world when life might be so very amusing in this world. And with all this, Stepan Arkadyevitch, who liked a joke, was fond of puzzling a plain man by saying that if he prided himself on his origin, he ought not to stop at Rurik and disown the first founder of his family—the monkey. And so Liberalism had become a habit of Stepan Arkadyevitch’s, and he liked his newspaper, as he did his cigar after dinner, for the slight fog it diffused in his brain. He read the leading article, in which it was maintained that it was quite senseless in our day to raise an outcry that radicalism was threatening to swallow up all conservative elements, and that the government ought to take measures to crush the revolutionary hydra; that, on the contrary, "in our opinion the danger lies not in that fantastic revolutionary hydra, but in the obstinacy of traditionalism clogging progress," etc., etc. He read another article, too, a financial one, which alluded to Bentham and Mill, and dropped some innuendoes reflecting on the ministry. With his characteristic quickwittedness he caught the drift of each innuendo, divined whence it came, at whom and on what ground it was aimed, and that afforded him, as it always did, a certain satisfaction. But today that satisfaction was embittered by Matrona Philimonovna’s advice and the unsatisfactory state of the household. He read, too, that Count Beist was rumored to have left for Wiesbaden, and that one need have no more gray hair, and of the sale of a light carriage, and of a young person seeking a situation; but these items of information did not give him, as usual, a quiet, ironical gratification. Having finished the paper, a second cup of coffee and a roll and butter, he got up, shaking the crumbs of the roll off his waistcoat; and, squaring his broad chest, he smiled joyously: not because there was anything particularly agreeable in his mind—the joyous smile was evoked by a good digestion.
Advertisement
But this joyous smile at once recalled everything to him, and he grew thoughtful.
Two childish voices (Stepan Arkadyevitch recognized the voices of Grisha, his youngest boy, and Tanya, his eldest girl) were heard outside the door. They were carrying something, and dropped it.
"I told you not to sit passengers on the roof," said the little girl in English; "there, pick them up!"
"Everything’s in confusion," thought Stepan Arkadyevitch; "there are the children running about by themselves." And going to the door, he called them. They threw down the box, that represented a train, and came in to their father.
The little girl, her father’s favorite, ran up boldly, embraced him, and hung laughingly on his neck, enjoying as she always did the smell of scent that came from his whiskers. At last the little girl kissed his face, which was flushed from his stooping posture and beaming with tenderness, loosed her hands, and was about to run away again; but her father held her back.
"How is mamma?" he asked, passing his hand over his daughter’s smooth, soft little neck. "Good morning," he said, smiling to the boy, who had come up to greet him. He was conscious that he loved the boy less, and always tried to be fair; but the boy felt it, and did not respond with a smile to his father’s chilly smile.
"Mamma? She is up," answered the girl.
Stepan Arkadyevitch sighed. "That means that she’s not slept again all night," he thought.
"Well, is she cheerful?"
The little girl knew that there was a quarrel between her father and mother, and that her mother could not be cheerful, and that her father must be aware of this, and that he was pretending when he asked about it so lightly. And she blushed for her father. He at once perceived it, and blushed too.
"I don’t know," she said. "She did not say we must do our lessons, but she said we were to go for a walk with Miss Hoole to grandmamma’s."
"Well, go, Tanya, my darling. Oh, wait a minute, though," he said, still holding her and stroking her soft little hand.
He took off the mantelpiece, where he had put it yesterday, a little box of sweets, and gave her two, picking out her favorites, a chocolate and a fondant.
"For Grisha?" said the little girl, pointing to the chocolate.
"Yes, yes." And still stroking her little shoulder, he kissed her on the roots of her hair and neck, and let her go.
Advertisement
"The carriage is ready," said Matvey; "but there’s some one to see you with a petition."
"Been here long?" asked Stepan Arkadyevitch.
"Half an hour."
"How many times have I told you to tell me at once?"
"One must let you drink your coffee in peace, at least," said Matvey, in the affectionately gruff tone with which it was impossible to be angry.
"Well, show the person up at once," said Oblonsky, frowning with vexation.
The petitioner, the widow of a staff captain Kalinin, came with a request impossible and unreasonable; but Stepan Arkadyevitch, as he generally did, made her sit down, heard her to the end attentively without interrupting her, and gave her detailed advice as to how and to whom to apply, and even wrote her, in his large, sprawling, good and legible hand, a confident and fluent little note to a personage who might be of use to her. Having got rid of the staff captain’s widow, Stepan Arkadyevitch took his hat and stopped to recollect whether he had forgotten anything. It appeared that he had forgotten nothing except what he wanted to forget—his wife.
"Ah, yes!" He bowed his head, and his handsome face assumed a harassed expression. "To go, or not to go!" he said to himself; and an inner voice told him he must not go, that nothing could come of it but falsity; that to amend, to set right their relations was impossible, because it was impossible to make her attractive again and able to inspire love, or to make him an old man, not susceptible to love. Except deceit and lying nothing could come of it now; and deceit and lying were opposed to his nature.
"It must be some time, though: it can’t go on like this," he said, trying to give himself courage. He squared his chest, took out a cigarette, took two whiffs at it, flung it into a mother-of-pearl ashtray, and with rapid steps walked through the drawing room, and opened the other door into his wife’s bedroom.
Advertisement
The Little Black Book for Girlz: A Book on Healthy Sexuality
Check it out: not just a book about sex, but a look at girl culture by youth themselves. No stuffy school textbook. No nosey adults. Just a diverse group of teen girls from a community youth project who had questions about sexuality. To find answers, they collected stories, poetry, and artwork from other youth. They also interviewed frontline health experts to get solid facts about the stuff young women have to deal with.It’s a great mix of real-life examples and life-saving info. Topics include: • Relationships • Periods • Sex • Birth control • Pregnancy • Sexually Transmitted Infections / AIDS • Sexual assault.Everything has been vetted by doctors, and the book is endorsed by health professionals, so you know you’re getting good info. There’s also a section at the back with places you can contact to find out more.It’s all stuff that youth need to know, and it’s all decked out in a compact, easy-to-browse ’zine style. The Little Black Book for Girlz is a super-important, take-anywhere empowerment guide for girls. Don’t leave your teen years without it.
8 72Hodgepodge
Hodgepodge is a collection of stories set in a realm where planes fly, immortals walk, people summon weird animals, a rabbit uses a traveling shovel of death, a man and his dog try to change the future, and the underworld decides to send someone to calm things down to stop the flow of the dead. Please enjoy.
8 498Hardwork(a naruto fiction)(DROPPED)
So this dude is just a normal guy i guess.its a isekai? Not to sure but the mc died by another dude and pretty much he meet god and got tranported into a naruto world not all naruto i gonna add some of my ideas so enjoy. I don't own Naruto or any related stuff except My ideas.oh and the cover is not mine I don't know where i got it i just type sharingan on goolgle and images.
8 164Children of the Halo
A thousand years have passed since the signing of the Pact: an historic agreement between the nations of the Pactlands to work for the betterment of the whole. But in recent years, the Empire of Vector has been growing more bold, submitting a claim for the long-contested Disputed Lands. When a young and inexperienced noblewoman ventures into the anarchic territories the residents call the Free Lands in an effort to discover what Vector is plotting, the last thing she expected to find was a City of Wonders. On a fateful summer morning, the Vancouver Island town of Ladysmith, British Columbia, Canada finds itself and its very residents thrust sideways from the world they know to the medieval Pactlands: a world ruled by a shadowy council of mages and governed by the laws of steel and influence. Cut off from their own world, the residents of this small cottage town are thrust knee-deep into the political, humanitarian and martial turmoil suffered by the residents of the Free Lands. Staring down the threat of the Vectoran claimant force, the hidden machinations of the High Magus Council, and desperately seeking the allies and resources they need to maintain their way of life, the residents of Ladysmith must use everything they have at their disposal to survive and claim their own place in a world they were not born to. Magic, intrigue and eight thousand Canadians. What could go wrong? Updates every Tuesday and Thursday.
8 328A Blind Ninja's Tale
It takes a brave soul to be a ninja. It takes an even braver soul to be a ninja and blind.
8 193Falling in love with the Muslim girl ✔
[My stories do NOT represent Islam, they represent most Muslims nowadays]~~~~"So I can't be this close to you?" Brody softly asked, pretending he didn't know the rules of my religion. "THEN LEAVE", he added pointing towards the door. And that's when it hit me, it wasn't him who was holding me there.. it was my own body that was craving for his touch."LEAVE!", Brody shouted.I was looking at him, not moving any part of my body. He grabbed my waist with both hands, pulled me closer to him until our bodies touched."You have no idea how many times I've dreamt of this moment", Brody whispered.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~She is;KindCaringIntelligent HelpfulAnd MuslimHe is;A bullyA jerkAnnoyingCockyAnd is unsure about his believesHe used to bully her, she used to hate him... But what will happen when they get paired up with eachother for their project? And will one of them develop feelings for one another?Read and find out. •Also, this story involves religions like Islam but that doesn't mean that the characters in this story are perfect.. We all make mistakes•And Allah (Subhana Wa'Tahala) is the best of planners. [Holy Quran 8:30]Highest ranking: #1 [multiple times]
8 68