ANNA KARENINA (Collector's Edition). Leo Tolstoy

don’t mean it!’ exclaimed Levin. ‘Very ill? What’s the matter with her? How did she? …’

      While they were talking Laska, pricking her ears, kept looking up at the sky and then reproachfully at them.

      ‘What a time they have chosen to talk,’ thought she. ‘And there it comes flying… . Just so, here it is. They’ll miss it… .’

      But at that moment both men heard a shrill whistle that seemed to smite on their ears; they both seized their guns and there were two flashes and two reports at the same moment. The woodcock that was flying high up instantly folded its wings and fell into the thicket, bending down the thin young shoots.

      ‘That’s good! It belongs to both!’ cried Levin and ran into the thicket with Laska to look for the bird. ‘Oh! but there was something unpleasant!’ he thought. ‘Yes, of course, Kitty is ill! But what can I do? I am very sorry,’ he thought. ‘Found? good dog!’ he said, taking the warm bird from Laska’s mouth and putting it into his well-filled game-bag.

      ‘We’ve found it, Stephen!’ he shouted.

      Chapter 16

      ON their way home Levin inquired the particulars of Kitty’s illness and of the Shcherbatskys’ plans, and though he would have been ashamed to confess it, what he heard was agreeable to him. It was agreeable because there was still hope for him, and even more because she was suffering, she who had made him suffer so much. But when Oblonsky began to speak of what caused Kitty’s illness and to mention Vronsky’s name, Levin interrupted him:

      ‘I have no right whatever to know such family details, and frankly I am not interested in them either.’

      Oblonsky gave a scarcely perceptible smile on noticing the quick change, so familiar to him, in Levin’s face, which became as gloomy as it had been bright a moment before.

      ‘Have you finally settled with Ryabinin about the forest?’ asked Levin.

      ‘Yes, I have. I’m getting a splendid price for it: thirty-eight thousand roubles; eight at once, and the rest to be paid within six years. I have been bothering about it a long time. No one would give more.’

      ‘The fact is you are giving the forest away,’ said Levin moodily.

      ‘Why giving away?’ said Oblonsky with a good-natured smile, knowing well that everything would now seem wrong to Levin.

      ‘Because the forest is worth at least five hundred roubles a desyatina,’ replied Levin.

      ‘Oh, you country gentlemen!’ said Oblonsky jokingly. ‘And your tone of contempt for us poor townfolk! … But when it comes to getting business done, we do it better than anyone. Believe me, I have reckoned it all out,’ continued he, ‘and have sold the forest so well that I am afraid he may change his mind. You know it’s not timber but, for the most part, only fit for fuel,’ said he, hoping by this remark finally to convince Levin of the injustice of his suspicions. ‘And it will not yield more than ten sazhens of wood to the desyatina … and he is paying me at the rate of two hundred roubles.’

      Levin smiled contemptuously. ‘I know this manner,’ he thought, ‘not his only, but all townsmen’s, who visit the country two or three times in ten years, get hold of two or three expressions, use them in and out of season, and are firmly convinced they know everything. “Timber”, and “yield ten sazhens”. He uses these words but understands nothing about the business.’

      ‘I should not try to teach you the things you scribble about at your office,’ he said, ‘but in case of need would come to you for advice about them, but you are firmly convinced that you understand all this forest lore. It is not easy! Have you counted the trees?’

      ‘How can one count the trees?’ said Oblonsky, still anxious to dispel his friend’s ill-humour.

      “Count grains of sand, and planets’ rays,

      E’en though a lofty mind were able …” ’

      ‘Well, Ryabinin’s lofty mind is able to do it. And no dealer will ever buy without first counting, unless the forest is given to him for nothing, as you are doing. I know your forest. I go shooting there every year, and it is worth five hundred roubles a desyatina cash down, and he is paying you two hundred on long term. That means that you have made him a present of about thirty thousand roubles.’

      ‘Come, don’t get so carried away,’ said Oblonsky piteously. ‘Why did no one offer more?’

      ‘Because he and the other dealers are in league, and he has bought them off. I have had dealings with them all, and I know them. They are not genuine dealers, but sharks. He would not consider a deal which would bring him in ten or fifteen per cent; he waits till he can buy at a fifth of the value.’

      ‘Oh, come! You are down in the dumps to-day.’

      ‘Not at all,’ said Levin gloomily, just as they drove up to the house.

      At the porch stood a little cart strongly bound with leather and iron, and to the cart was harnessed a well-fed horse with broad, tightly-stretched straps. In the cart sat Ryabinin’s clerk (who also performed a coachman’s duties), his skin tightly stretched over his full-blooded face and his belt drawn tight. Ryabinin himself was already in the house and met the two friends in the hall. He was a tall, spare, middle-aged man, with a moustache, a prominent shaven chin, and prominent dim eyes. He wore a long-skirted blue coat with buttons very low down at the back, high boots drawn quite straight over the calves of his legs and crinkled round the ankles, and over them he had on a pair of large goloshes. He wiped his face all round with his handkerchief and smoothing his coat, which was already quite in order, smilingly greeted the new arrivals. He held out his hand to Oblonsky as if he were trying to catch something.

      ‘Oh, so you have come,’ said Oblonsky taking his hand. ‘That’s right!’

      ‘I dared not disobey your Excellency’s commands, though the roads are quite too bad. I have literally had to walk all the way, but I have arrived in time… .’

      ‘Constantine Dmitrich, my respects to you!’ he said turning to Levin and trying to catch his hand too. But Levin, frowning, pretended not to see the hand, and began taking the snipe out of the game-bag.

      ‘You have been pleased to amuse yourself with shooting? What kind of bird may that be?’ added Ryabinin, looking contemptuously at the snipe. ‘Something tasty?’ and he shook his head disapprovingly as if much doubting whether this game were worth the candle.

      ‘Would you like to go into my study?’ said Levin, frowning moodily, and addressing Oblonsky in French; ‘Go into the study, you can talk things over there.’

      ‘That would do very well, — or wherever you like,’ remarked Ryabinin with contemptuous dignity, as if to show them that though others might find it difficult to know how to behave with different people, yet for him no difficulty of any kind could ever exist.

      On entering the study Ryabinin looked round by force of habit as though to find the icon, but after finding it he did not cross himself. He glanced at the book cupboards and bookshelves with the same look of doubt as he had bestowed on the snipe, smiled contemptuously, and again shook his head disapprovingly, decidedly refusing to admit that this game could be worth the candle.

      ‘Well, have you brought the money?’ asked Oblonsky. ‘Take a seat.’

      ‘There won’t be any difficulty about the money. I’ve come to see you and to talk matters over.’

      ‘Talk what matters over? But do take a seat.’

      ‘I can do that,’ said Ryabinin, sitting down and putting his arm on the back of his