Читать книгу Anna Karenina - 2 Classic Unabridged Translations in one eBook (Garnett and Maude translations) - Leo Tolstoy - Страница 56

AS Levin, in the highest spirits, was nearing the house he heard the sound of a tinkling bell approaching the main entrance.

‘Why, that must be some one from the station,’ he thought. ‘They would just have had time to get here from the Moscow train. Who is it? Can it be brother Nicholas? He did say, “Perhaps I’ll go to a watering-place, or perhaps I’ll come to you.” ’ For a moment he felt frightened and disturbed lest his brother’s presence should destroy the happy frame of mind that the spring had aroused in him. But he was ashamed of that feeling, and immediately, as it were, opened out his spiritual arms and with tender joy expected, and now hoped with his whole soul, that it was his brother. He touched up his horse and, having passed the acacia trees, saw a hired three-horse sledge coming from the station and in it a gentleman in a fur coat. It was not his brother. ‘Oh, if only it’s some nice fellow with whom one can have a talk,’ he thought. ‘Ah,’ he cried, joyfully lifting both arms, ‘here’s a welcome guest! Well, I am glad to see you!’ he exclaimed, recognizing Oblonsky.

‘I shall know now for certain whether she is married or when she will be,’ thought Levin.

And on this lovely day he felt that the memory of her did not hurt him at all.

‘You did not expect me, eh?’ said Oblonsky, getting out of the sledge with mud on his nose, cheek, and eyebrows, but beaming with cheerfulness and health. ‘I have come to see you, that’s one thing,’ he said, embracing and kissing Levin, ‘to get some shooting, that’s two, and to sell the Ergushevo forest, that’s three.’

‘That’s grand! and what a spring we are having! How did you manage to get here in a sledge?’

‘It would have been worse still on wheels, Constantine Dmitrich,’ said the driver, whom Levin knew.

‘Well, I am very, very glad to see you,’ said Levin with a sincere smile, joyful as a child’s.

He showed his guest into the spare bedroom, where Oblonsky’s things, his bag, a gun in a case, and a satchel with cigars, were also brought, and leaving him to wash and change Levin went to the office to give orders about the ploughing and the clover. Agatha Mikhaylovna, always much concerned about the honour of the house, met him in the hall with questions about dinner.

‘Do just as you please, only be quick,’ he said and went out to see the steward.

When he returned, Oblonsky, fresh and clean, with hair brushed, and face radiant with smiles, was just coming out of his room, and they went upstairs together.

‘How glad I am to have come to you! Now I shall be able to understand what the mysteries you perpetrate here consist of. But, seriously, I envy you. What a house, and everything so splendid, so light, so gay!’ said Oblonsky, forgetting that it was not always spring and bright weather there, as on that day.

‘And your nurse! quite charming! A pretty housemaid with a little apron would be preferable; but with your severe and monastic style this one is more suitable.’

Oblonsky had much interesting news to tell, and one item of special interest to Levin was that his brother, Sergius Ivanich, intended to come and stay in the country with him that summer.

Not a word did Oblonsky say about Kitty or about any of the Shcherbatskys; he only delivered greetings from his wife. Levin was grateful to him for his delicacy and was very glad of his visit. As usual during his solitude a mass of thoughts and feelings he could not express to those around had collected in his mind, and now he poured out to Oblonsky the poetic joy of spring, his failures, his plans concerning the estate, his thoughts and remarks about the books he had read, and especially the idea of his own book, the basis of which, though he did not notice it himself, was a criticism of all previous works on agriculture. Oblonsky, always pleasant and quick at understanding everything from a hint, was specially pleasant on this visit; there was a new trait in him which Levin noticed and was flattered by — a kind of respect and a sort of tenderness toward him. The efforts of Agatha Mikhaylovna and the cook to make the dinner specially nice resulted only in both the hungry friends sitting down to a snack and having to appease their hunger with hors d’œuvres of bread and butter, smoked goose, and pickled mushrooms, and in Levin’s ordering the soup to be served without waiting for the pasties with which the cook intended to astonish the visitor. But Oblonsky, though used to very different dinners, found everything delicious; the herb beer, the bread and butter, and especially the smoked goose and pickled mushrooms, the nettle soup and the fowl with melted-butter sauce, the Crimean white wine — everything was delicious, everything was excellent.

‘Splendid, splendid!’ he said, lighting a thick cigarette after the joint. ‘I seem to have come to you as one lands from a noisy steamer on to a peaceful shore. So you maintain that the labourer should be studied as one of the factors which should decide the choice of agricultural methods? You know I am quite an outsider in these matters, but I should think this theory and its application ought to influence the labourer too.’

‘Yes, but wait a bit, I am not talking about political economy but about the science of agriculture. It should resemble the natural sciences and should examine existing phenomena, including the labourer with his economic and ethnographic …’

At that moment Agatha Mikhaylovna came in with some jam.

‘Ah, Agatha Mikhaylovna,’ said Oblonsky, kissing the tips of his plump fingers; ‘what smoked goose you have, what herb brandy! … But what d’you think, Constantine, is it not time?’ he added.

Levin glanced out of the window at the sun which was setting behind the bare trees of the forest.

‘High time, high time! Kuzma, tell them to harness the trap,’ he said, and ran downstairs.

Oblonsky went down and himself carefully took the canvas cover off the varnished case, opened it, and set to work to put together his valuable gun, which was of the newest type.

Kuzma, already scenting a substantial tip, did not leave Oblonsky for a moment. He put on his stockings and his boots for him, and Oblonsky willingly allowed him to do so.

‘Constantine, please leave word that if the dealer Ryabinin comes (I told him to come here to-day) they should ask him in and let him wait.’

‘Are you selling the forest to Ryabinin?’

‘Yes. Do you know him?’

‘Of course I know him. I have had dealings with him, positively and finally.’

Oblonsky laughed. ‘Positively and finally’ were the dealer’s favourite words.

‘Yes, he does speak very funnily. She knows where the master is going,’ he added, patting Laska, who was whining and jumping round Levin, now licking his hand, now his boots and his gun.

The trap was standing at the door when they went out.

‘I told them to harness though it is not far, but if you like we can walk?’

‘No, let us drive,’ said Oblonsky, stepping up into the trap [a long vehicle something like a jaunting-car, but with four wheels]. He sat down, wrapped a rug round his legs, and lit a cigar. ‘How is it you don’t smoke? A cigar is such a … not exactly a pleasure, but the crown and sign of pleasure. Ah, this is life! How delightful! This is how I should like to live.’

‘But who prevents you?’ Levin remarked, smiling.

‘No — you are a lucky fellow! You have got all you are fond of. You like horses — you have them; hounds — you have them; shooting — you get it; farming — you get it too.’

‘Perhaps it is because I am glad of what I get, and don’t grieve about what I haven’t,’ said Levin, thinking of Kitty.

Oblonsky understood and looked at him but said nothing.

Levin was grateful to Oblonsky because, with his usual tact, noticing that Levin was afraid of talking about the Shcherbatskys, he avoided mentioning them; but now Levin wanted to find out about the matter that tormented him, and yet feared to speak of it.

‘Well, and how are your affairs?’ he asked, recollecting how wrong it was of him to be thinking only of his own concerns.

Oblonsky’s eyes began to glitter merrily.

‘But you don’t admit that one may want a roll while one gets regular rations, you consider it a crime; and I don’t believe in life without love,’ he answered, understanding Levin’s question in his own way. ‘How can I help it? I am made that way. And really so little harm is done to anyone, and one gets so much pleasure …’

‘Is there anything new then?’ inquired Levin.

‘There is! Well, you know Ossian’s type of woman — such as one sees in a dream? Well, there are such women in reality, and these women are terrible. Woman, you see, is an object of such a kind that study it as much as you will, it is always quite new.’

‘In that case, better not study them.’

‘Oh, no! Some mathematician has said pleasure lies not in discovering truth but in seeking it.’

Levin listened in silence, but in spite of all his efforts he could not enter into his friend’s soul and understand his feeling, nor the delight of studying women of that kind.