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- Лев Толстой
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- Анна Каренина
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- Стр. 549/828
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“
And
what
’
s
today
?
The
fourth
night
.
.
.
.
Yegor
and
his
wife
are
there
,
and
my
mother
,
most
likely
.
Of
course
all
Petersburg
’
s
there
.
Now
she
’
s
gone
in
,
taken
off
her
cloak
and
come
into
the
light
.
Tushkevitch
,
Yashvin
,
Princess
Varvara
,
”
he
pictured
them
to
himself
.
.
.
.
“
What
about
me
?
Either
that
I
’
m
frightened
or
have
given
up
to
Tushkevitch
the
right
to
protect
her
?
From
every
point
of
view
—
stupid
,
stupid
!
.
.
.
And
why
is
she
putting
me
in
such
a
position
?
”
he
said
with
a
gesture
of
despair
.
With
that
gesture
he
knocked
against
the
table
,
on
which
there
was
standing
the
seltzer
water
and
the
decanter
of
brandy
,
and
almost
upset
it
.
He
tried
to
catch
it
,
let
it
slip
,
and
angrily
kicked
the
table
over
and
rang
.
“
If
you
care
to
be
in
my
service
,
”
he
said
to
the
valet
who
came
in
,
“
you
had
better
remember
your
duties
.
This
shouldn
’
t
be
here
.
You
ought
to
have
cleared
away
.
”
The
valet
,
conscious
of
his
own
innocence
,
would
have
defended
himself
,
but
glancing
at
his
master
,
he
saw
from
his
face
that
the
only
thing
to
do
was
to
be
silent
,
and
hurriedly
threading
his
way
in
and
out
,
dropped
down
on
the
carpet
and
began
gathering
up
the
whole
and
broken
glasses
and
bottles
.
“
That
’
s
not
your
duty
;
send
the
waiter
to
clear
away
,
and
get
my
dress
coat
out
.
”
Vronsky
went
into
the
theater
at
half
-
past
eight
.
The
performance
was
in
full
swing
.
The
little
old
box
-
keeper
,
recognizing
Vronsky
as
he
helped
him
off
with
his
fur
coat
,
called
him
“
Your
Excellency
,
”
and
suggested
he
should
not
take
a
number
but
should
simply
call
Fyodor
.
In
the
brightly
lighted
corridor
there
was
no
one
but
the
box
-
opener
and
two
attendants
with
fur
cloaks
on
their
arms
listening
at
the
doors
.
Through
the
closed
doors
came
the
sounds
of
the
discreet
staccato
accompaniment
of
the
orchestra
,
and
a
single
female
voice
rendering
distinctly
a
musical
phrase
.
The
door
opened
to
let
the
box
-
opener
slip
through
,
and
the
phrase
drawing
to
the
end
reached
Vronsky
’
s
hearing
clearly
.
But
the
doors
were
closed
again
at
once
,
and
Vronsky
did
not
hear
the
end
of
the
phrase
and
the
cadence
of
the
accompaniment
,
though
he
knew
from
the
thunder
of
applause
that
it
was
over
.
When
he
entered
the
hall
,
brilliantly
lighted
with
chandeliers
and
gas
jets
,
the
noise
was
still
going
on
.
On
the
stage
the
singer
,
bowing
and
smiling
,
with
bare
shoulders
flashing
with
diamonds
,
was
,
with
the
help
of
the
tenor
who
had
given
her
his
arm
,
gathering
up
the
bouquets
that
were
flying
awkwardly
over
the
footlights
.
Then
she
went
up
to
a
gentleman
with
glossy
pomaded
hair
parted
down
the
center
,
who
was
stretching
across
the
footlights
holding
out
something
to
her
,
and
all
the
public
in
the
stalls
as
well
as
in
the
boxes
was
in
excitement
,
craning
forward
,
shouting
and
clapping
.
The
conductor
in
his
high
chair
assisted
in
passing
the
offering
,
and
straightened
his
white
tie
.
Vronsky
walked
into
the
middle
of
the
stalls
,
and
,
standing
still
,
began
looking
about
him
.
That
day
less
than
ever
was
his
attention
turned
upon
the
familiar
,
habitual
surroundings
,
the
stage
,
the
noise
,
all
the
familiar
,
uninteresting
,
particolored
herd
of
spectators
in
the
packed
theater
.
There
were
,
as
always
,
the
same
ladies
of
some
sort
with
officers
of
some
sort
in
the
back
of
the
boxes
;
the
same
gaily
dressed
women
—
God
knows
who
—
and
uniforms
and
black
coats
;
the
same
dirty
crowd
in
the
upper
gallery
;
and
among
the
crowd
,
in
the
boxes
and
in
the
front
rows
,
were
some
forty
of
the
real
people
.
And
to
those
oases
Vronsky
at
once
directed
his
attention
,
and
with
them
he
entered
at
once
into
relation
.
The
act
was
over
when
he
went
in
,
and
so
he
did
not
go
straight
to
his
brother
’
s
box
,
but
going
up
to
the
first
row
of
stalls
stopped
at
the
footlights
with
Serpuhovskoy
,
who
,
standing
with
one
knee
raised
and
his
heel
on
the
footlights
,
caught
sight
of
him
in
the
distance
and
beckoned
to
him
,
smiling
.
