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ana karenina

ana karenina

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Published by Nicoleta Ion

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Published by: Nicoleta Ion on Nov 05, 2010
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Get any book for free on: www.Abika.com
Anna Karenina
by Leo TolstoyTranslated by Constance GarnettGet any book for free on: www.Abika.com
Get any book for free on: www.Abika.com
Part OneChapter 1Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy inits own way.Everything was in confusion in the Oblonskys' house. The wifehad discovered that the husband was carrying on an intrigue witha French girl, who had been a governess in their family, and shehad announced to her husband that she could not go on living inthe same house with him. This position of affairs had now lastedthree days, and not only the husband and wife themselves, but allthe members of their family and household, were painfullyconscious of it. Every person in the house felt that there wasso sense in their living together, and that the stray peoplebrought together by chance in any inn had more in common with oneanother than they, the members of the family and household of theOblonskys. The wife did not leave her own room, the husband hadnot been at home for three days. The children ran wild all overthe house; the English governess quarreled with the housekeeper,and wrote to a friend asking her to look out for a new situationfor her; the man-cook had walked of the day before just atdinner-time; the kitchen-maid, and the coachman had givenwarning.Three days after the quarrel, Prince Stepan ArkadyevitchOblonsky--Stiva, as he was called in the fashionable world--wokeup at his usual hour, that is, at eight o'clock in the morning,
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not in his wife's bedroom, but on the leather-covered sofa in hisstudy. He turned over his stout, well-cared-for person on thespringy sofa, as though he would sink into a long sleep again; hevigorously embraced the pillow on the other side and buried hisface in it; but all at once he jumped up, sat up on the sofa, andopened his eyes."Yes, yes, how was it now?" he thought, going over his dream."Now, how was it? To be sure! Alabin was giving a dinner atDarmstadt; no, not Darmstadt, but something American. Yes, butthen, Darmstadt was in America. Yes, Alabin was giving a dinneron glass tables, and the tables sang, Il mio tesoro--not Il miotesoro though, but something better, and there were some sort oflittle decanters on the table, and they were women, too," heremembered.Stepan Arkadyevitch's eyes twinkled gaily, and he pondered with asmile. "Yes, it was nice, very nice. There was a great dealmore that was delightful, only there's no putting it into words,or even expressing it on one's thoughts awake." And noticing agleam of light peeping in beside one of the serge curtains, hecheerfully dropped his feet over the edge of the sofa, and feltabout with them for his slippers, a present on his last birthday,worked for him by his wife on gold-colored morocco. And, as hehad done every day for the last nine years, he stretched out hishand, without getting up, towards the place where hisdressing-gown always hung in his bedroom. And thereupon hesuddenly remembered that he was not sleeping in his wife's room,