《Anna Karenina》Chapter IV
Advertisement
Darya Alexandrovna, in a dressing jacket, and with her now scanty, once luxuriant and beautiful hair fastened up with hairpins on the nape of her neck, with a sunken, thin face and large, startled eyes, which looked prominent from the thinness of her face, was standing among a litter of all sorts of things scattered all over the room, before an open bureau, from which she was taking something. Hearing her husband’s steps, she stopped, looking towards the door, and trying assiduously to give her features a severe and contemptuous expression. She felt she was afraid of him, and afraid of the coming interview. She was just attempting to do what she had attempted to do ten times already in these last three days—to sort out the children’s things and her own, so as to take them to her mother’s—and again she could not bring herself to do this; but now again, as each time before, she kept saying to herself, "that things cannot go on like this, that she must take some step" to punish him, put him to shame, avenge on him some little part at least of the suffering he had caused her. She still continued to tell herself that she should leave him, but she was conscious that this was impossible; it was impossible because she could not get out of the habit of regarding him as her husband and loving him. Besides this, she realized that if even here in her own house she could hardly manage to look after her five children properly, they would be still worse off where she was going with them all. As it was, even in the course of these three days, the youngest was unwell from being given unwholesome soup, and the others had almost gone without their dinner the day before. She was conscious that it was impossible to go away; but, cheating herself, she went on all the same sorting out her things and pretending she was going.
Seeing her husband, she dropped her hands into the drawer of the bureau as though looking for something, and only looked round at him when he had come quite up to her. But her face, to which she tried to give a severe and resolute expression, betrayed bewilderment and suffering.
"Dolly!" he said in a subdued and timid voice. He bent his head towards his shoulder and tried to look pitiful and humble, but for all that he was radiant with freshness and health. In a rapid glance she scanned his figure that beamed with health and freshness. "Yes, he is happy and content!" she thought; "while I.... And that disgusting good nature, which every one likes him for and praises—I hate that good nature of his," she thought. Her mouth stiffened, the muscles of the cheek contracted on the right side of her pale, nervous face.
Advertisement
"What do you want?" she said in a rapid, deep, unnatural voice.
"Dolly!" he repeated, with a quiver in his voice. "Anna is coming today."
"Well, what is that to me? I can’t see her!" she cried.
"But you must, really, Dolly..."
"Go away, go away, go away!" she shrieked, not looking at him, as though this shriek were called up by physical pain.
Stepan Arkadyevitch could be calm when he thought of his wife, he could hope that she would come round, as Matvey expressed it, and could quietly go on reading his paper and drinking his coffee; but when he saw her tortured, suffering face, heard the tone of her voice, submissive to fate and full of despair, there was a catch in his breath and a lump in his throat, and his eyes began to shine with tears.
"My God! what have I done? Dolly! For God’s sake!.... You know...." He could not go on; there was a sob in his throat.
She shut the bureau with a slam, and glanced at him.
"Dolly, what can I say?.... One thing: forgive... Remember, cannot nine years of my life atone for an instant...."
She dropped her eyes and listened, expecting what he would say, as it were beseeching him in some way or other to make her believe differently.
"—instant of passion?" he said, and would have gone on, but at that word, as at a pang of physical pain, her lips stiffened again, and again the muscles of her right cheek worked.
"Go away, go out of the room!" she shrieked still more shrilly, "and don’t talk to me of your passion and your loathsomeness."
She tried to go out, but tottered, and clung to the back of a chair to support herself. His face relaxed, his lips swelled, his eyes were swimming with tears.
"Dolly!" he said, sobbing now; "for mercy’s sake, think of the children; they are not to blame! I am to blame, and punish me, make me expiate my fault. Anything I can do, I am ready to do anything! I am to blame, no words can express how much I am to blame! But, Dolly, forgive me!"
She sat down. He listened to her hard, heavy breathing, and he was unutterably sorry for her. She tried several times to begin to speak, but could not. He waited.
"You remember the children, Stiva, to play with them; but I remember them, and know that this means their ruin," she said—obviously one of the phrases she had more than once repeated to herself in the course of the last few days.
She had called him "Stiva," and he glanced at her with gratitude, and moved to take her hand, but she drew back from him with aversion.
Advertisement
"I think of the children, and for that reason I would do anything in the world to save them, but I don’t myself know how to save them. By taking them away from their father, or by leaving them with a vicious father—yes, a vicious father.... Tell me, after what ... has happened, can we live together? Is that possible? Tell me, eh, is it possible?" she repeated, raising her voice, "after my husband, the father of my children, enters into a love affair with his own children’s governess?"
"But what could I do? what could I do?" he kept saying in a pitiful voice, not knowing what he was saying, as his head sank lower and lower.
"You are loathsome to me, repulsive!" she shrieked, getting more and more heated. "Your tears mean nothing! You have never loved me; you have neither heart nor honorable feeling! You are hateful to me, disgusting, a stranger—yes, a complete stranger!" With pain and wrath she uttered the word so terrible to herself—stranger.
He looked at her, and the fury expressed in her face alarmed and amazed him. He did not understand how his pity for her exasperated her. She saw in him sympathy for her, but not love. "No, she hates me. She will not forgive me," he thought.
"It is awful! awful!" he said.
At that moment in the next room a child began to cry; probably it had fallen down. Darya Alexandrovna listened, and her face suddenly softened.
She seemed to be pulling herself together for a few seconds, as though she did not know where she was, and what she was doing, and getting up rapidly, she moved towards the door.
"Well, she loves my child," he thought, noticing the change of her face at the child’s cry, "my child: how can she hate me?"
"Dolly, one word more," he said, following her.
"If you come near me, I will call in the servants, the children! They may all know you are a scoundrel! I am going away at once, and you may live here with your mistress!"
And she went out, slamming the door.
Stepan Arkadyevitch sighed, wiped his face, and with a subdued tread walked out of the room. "Matvey says she will come round; but how? I don’t see the least chance of it. Ah, oh, how horrible it is! And how vulgarly she shouted," he said to himself, remembering her shriek and the words—"scoundrel" and "mistress." "And very likely the maids were listening! Horribly vulgar! horrible!" Stepan Arkadyevitch stood a few seconds alone, wiped his face, squared his chest, and walked out of the room.
It was Friday, and in the dining room the German watchmaker was winding up the clock. Stepan Arkadyevitch remembered his joke about this punctual, bald watchmaker, "that the German was wound up for a whole lifetime himself, to wind up watches," and he smiled. Stepan Arkadyevitch was fond of a joke: "And maybe she will come round! That’s a good expression, ‘come round,’" he thought. "I must repeat that."
"Matvey!" he shouted. "Arrange everything with Darya in the sitting room for Anna Arkadyevna," he said to Matvey when he came in.
"Yes, sir."
Stepan Arkadyevitch put on his fur coat and went out onto the steps.
"You won’t dine at home?" said Matvey, seeing him off.
"That’s as it happens. But here’s for the housekeeping," he said, taking ten roubles from his pocketbook. "That’ll be enough."
"Enough or not enough, we must make it do," said Matvey, slamming the carriage door and stepping back onto the steps.
Darya Alexandrovna meanwhile having pacified the child, and knowing from the sound of the carriage that he had gone off, went back again to her bedroom. It was her solitary refuge from the household cares which crowded upon her directly she went out from it. Even now, in the short time she had been in the nursery, the English governess and Matrona Philimonovna had succeeded in putting several questions to her, which did not admit of delay, and which only she could answer: "What were the children to put on for their walk? Should they have any milk? Should not a new cook be sent for?"
"Ah, let me alone, let me alone!" she said, and going back to her bedroom she sat down in the same place as she had sat when talking to her husband, clasping tightly her thin hands with the rings that slipped down on her bony fingers, and fell to going over in her memory all the conversation. "He has gone! But has he broken it off with her?" she thought. "Can it be he sees her? Why didn’t I ask him! No, no, reconciliation is impossible. Even if we remain in the same house, we are strangers—strangers forever!" She repeated again with special significance the word so dreadful to her. "And how I loved him! my God, how I loved him!.... How I loved him! And now don’t I love him? Don’t I love him more than before? The most horrible thing is," she began, but did not finish her thought, because Matrona Philimonovna put her head in at the door.
"Let us send for my brother," she said; "he can get a dinner anyway, or we shall have the children getting nothing to eat till six again, like yesterday."
"Very well, I will come directly and see about it. But did you send for some new milk?"
And Darya Alexandrovna plunged into the duties of the day, and drowned her grief in them for a time.
Advertisement
Wizard King
Old Title: Godfather and Godson Sirius Black was always said to be a playboy. What if he taught his godson a bit of his trade. A more mature and savvy boy-who-lived heads off to Hogwarts for his fourth year. A/N Note: Characters are at least 18 years old when the story commences.
8 432Sirius: Evolution of A Star
A blue bright star shone graciously across the infinite skies. Yes, numerous stars spread their bright light across the universe, but this star was special. And why was it special? It was conscious. The star possessed the virtues of a living being. But as rational and sane as it was, it also was incredibly careless. Careless in terms of unintentionally destroying planets and other worlds. So, god asked him to reincarnate and make his own world. Thus, began the story of Sirius. Participant in the Royal Road Writathon challenge
8 83A March of Fire
In a world on the brink of tearing itself apart, three men find that their futures have been changed irrevocably by forces outside of their control. Hal Landoran is a father of three and husband to the beautiful Gillian, who has stayed loyally by his side for burgeoning on thirty years. He is the lord of a quiet province in the heart of The Coalition, where he is a respected friend to the Grand King, Harold Daymoore. Although Hal's days of fighting were thought to be long gone, he will learn that when one's family is at risk, age is no barrier at all. Brack Na'Orihn is the stalwart leader of Dreanar, and by extension, the Draneer people. He has guided his kingdom through unprecedented economic success thanks to the discovery of a new, miracle resource. The characteristically blue dust, Efir. Brack's youngest and brightest son, Nyal, has discovered a new use for the blue dust. A use that will shake the very foundations of reality itself. Ayaz is the new addition to the small entourage of Sandam Saraf II, Lord Protector and holder of a coveted treasure of ancient origin. On Ayaz's first journey with Sandam and his veteran crew, he will learn what he must do to survive, and have a revealing encounter with an all-powerful wizard whose motives are as murky and grey as his eyes.
8 172How I became op.
Hey, this is my first story and it's about a high-school kid being reincarnated to another world overpowered and has a fun time gaining more strength. Please let me know when I screw up. (??????)ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!??????? (?????)look Lydia it is a boy. (mc)(Ummm why can I hear people talking I thought I died?) (Lydia)I can see that honey, aren't you the cutest thing alive hmmm. (mc)(huh? I can feel someone touching my face.)unhand me, you vile creature! (goo goo gaa gaa.) (mc)(It seems I can't use my tongue properly.) (Lydia)what should we name him Chris? (Chris)hmmm...I think we should name him Adam. (Adam)(wait, hold on why did he just say my name?!) I plan on changing a lot of the prologue because it wasn't working with me so yah look out for that. I should start this process after my tenth chapter. ANd no the apology chapter doesn't count.
8 76The Three Realms
Follow Aureus Astrea as he journeys across the three realms, Gathering a Team, Building a Kingdom, Fighting Demons while facing internal strife. Join him, as he struggles through it all.
8 401Falling 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