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- Лев Толстой
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- Анна Каренина
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- Стр. 782/828
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After
the
most
conscientious
revision
the
book
had
last
year
been
published
,
and
had
been
distributed
among
the
booksellers
.
Though
he
asked
no
one
about
it
,
reluctantly
and
with
feigned
indifference
answered
his
friends
’
inquiries
as
to
how
the
book
was
going
,
and
did
not
even
inquire
of
the
booksellers
how
the
book
was
selling
,
Sergey
Ivanovitch
was
all
on
the
alert
,
with
strained
attention
,
watching
for
the
first
impression
his
book
would
make
in
the
world
and
in
literature
.
But
a
week
passed
,
a
second
,
a
third
,
and
in
society
no
impression
whatever
could
be
detected
.
His
friends
who
were
specialists
and
savants
,
occasionally
—
unmistakably
from
politeness
—
alluded
to
it
.
The
rest
of
his
acquaintances
,
not
interested
in
a
book
on
a
learned
subject
,
did
not
talk
of
it
at
all
.
And
society
generally
—
just
now
especially
absorbed
in
other
things
—
was
absolutely
indifferent
.
In
the
press
,
too
,
for
a
whole
month
there
was
not
a
word
about
his
book
.
Sergey
Ivanovitch
had
calculated
to
a
nicety
the
time
necessary
for
writing
a
review
,
but
a
month
passed
,
and
a
second
,
and
still
there
was
silence
.
Only
in
the
Northern
Beetle
,
in
a
comic
article
on
the
singer
Drabanti
,
who
had
lost
his
voice
,
there
was
a
contemptuous
allusion
to
Koznishev
’
s
book
,
suggesting
that
the
book
had
been
long
ago
seen
through
by
everyone
,
and
was
a
subject
of
general
ridicule
.
At
last
in
the
third
month
a
critical
article
appeared
in
a
serious
review
.
Sergey
Ivanovitch
knew
the
author
of
the
article
.
He
had
met
him
once
at
Golubtsov
’
s
.
The
author
of
the
article
was
a
young
man
,
an
invalid
,
very
bold
as
a
writer
,
but
extremely
deficient
in
breeding
and
shy
in
personal
relations
.
In
spite
of
his
absolute
contempt
for
the
author
,
it
was
with
complete
respect
that
Sergey
Ivanovitch
set
about
reading
the
article
.
The
article
was
awful
.
The
critic
had
undoubtedly
put
an
interpretation
upon
the
book
which
could
not
possibly
be
put
on
it
.
But
he
had
selected
quotations
so
adroitly
that
for
people
who
had
not
read
the
book
(
and
obviously
scarcely
anyone
had
read
it
)
it
seemed
absolutely
clear
that
the
whole
book
was
nothing
but
a
medley
of
high
-
flown
phrases
,
not
even
—
as
suggested
by
marks
of
interrogation
—
used
appropriately
,
and
that
the
author
of
the
book
was
a
person
absolutely
without
knowledge
of
the
subject
.
And
all
this
was
so
wittily
done
that
Sergey
Ivanovitch
would
not
have
disowned
such
wit
himself
.
