Анна Кареніна

Chapter 4

           Itwasperfectlystillallroundhim.Onlyoverheadinthebirchesunderwhichhestood,theflies,likeaswarmofbees,buzzedunceasingly,andfromtimetotimethechildren’svoiceswerefloatedacrosstohim.Allatonceheheard,notfarfromtheedgeofthewood,thesoundofVarenka’scontraltovoice,callingGrisha,andasmileofdelightpassedoverSergeyIvanovitch’sface.Consciousofthissmile,heshookhisheaddisapprovinglyathisowncondition,andtakingoutacigar,hebeganlightingit.Foralongwhilehecouldnotgetamatchtolightagainstthetrunkofabirchtree.Thesoftscalesofthewhitebarkrubbedoffthephosphorus,andthelightwentout.Atlastoneofthematchesburned,andthefragrantcigarsmoke,hoveringuncertainlyinflat,widecoils,stretchedawayforwardsandupwardsoverabushundertheoverhangingbranchesofabirchtree.Watchingthestreakofsmoke,SergeyIvanovitchwalkedgentlyon,deliberatingonhisposition.

           “Whynot?”hethought.“Ifitwereonlyapassingfancyorapassion,ifitwereonlythisattractionthismutualattraction(Icancallitamutualattraction),butifIfeltthatitwasincontradictionwiththewholebentofmylifeifIfeltthatingivingwaytothisattractionIshouldbefalsetomyvocationandmyduty...butit’snotso.TheonlythingIcansayagainstitisthat,whenIlostMarie,IsaidtomyselfthatIwouldremainfaithfultohermemory.That’stheonlythingIcansayagainstmyfeeling....

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