Anna Karenina - LimpidSoft

PART TWO CHAPTER 20
Chapter 20
VRONSKY was staying in a roomy, clean, Finnish hut, divided into two by a partition.
Petritsky lived with him in camp too. Petritsky was asleep when Vronsky
and Yashvin came into the hut.
“Get up, don’t go on sleeping,” said Yashvin, going behind the partition and giving
Petritsky, who was lying with ruffled hair and with his nose in the pillow, a prod
on the shoulder.
Petritsky jumped up suddenly onto his knees and looked round.
“Your brother’s been here,” he said to Vronsky. “He waked me up, damn him, and
said he’d look in again.” And pulling up the rug he flung himself back on the pillow.
“Oh, do shut up, Yashvin!” he said, getting furious with Yashvin, who was pulling
the rug off him. “Shut up!” He turned over and opened his eyes. “You’d better tell
me what to drink; such a nasty taste in my mouth, that...”
“Brandy’s better than anything,” boomed Yashvin. “Tereshtchenko! brandy for
your master and cucumbers,” he shouted, obviously taking pleasure in the sound of
his own voice.
“Brandy, do you think? Eh?” queried Petritsky, blinking and rubbing his eyes.
“And you’ll drink something? All right then, we’ll have a drink together! Vronsky,
have a drink?” said Petritsky, getting up and wrapping the tiger-skin rug round him.
He went to the door of the partition wall, raised his hands, and hummed in French,
“There was a king in Thule.” “Vronsky, will you have a drink?”
“Go along,” said Vronsky, putting on the coat his valet handed to him.
“Where are you off to?” asked Yashvin. “Oh, here are your three horses,” he
added, seeing the carriage drive up.
“To the stables, and I’ve got to see Bryansky, too, about the horses,” said Vronsky.
Vronsky had as a fact promised to call at Bryansky’s, some eight miles from Peterhof,
and to bring him some money owing for some horses; and he hoped to have
time to get that in too. But his comrades were at once aware that he was not only
going there.
Petritsky, still humming, winked and made a pout with his lips, as though he
would say: “Oh, yes, we know your Bryansky.”
“Mind you’re not late!” was Yashvin’s only comment; and to change the conversation:
“How’s my roan? is he doing all right?” he inquired, looking out of the
window at the middle one of the three horses, which he had sold Vronsky.
“Stop!” cried Petritsky to Vronsky as he was just going out. “Your brother left a
letter and a note for you. Wait a bit; where are they?”
Vronsky stopped.
“Well, where are they?”
“Where are they? That’s just the question!” said Petritsky solemnly, moving his
forefinger upwards from his nose.
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