ANNAKARENINA - (EPUB全文下载)

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PART ONE
Vengeance is mine; I will repay
Chapter 1
Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
Everything was in confusion in the Oblonsky’s house. The wife had discovered that the husband was carrying on an intrigue with a French girl, who had been a governess in their family, and she had announced to her husband that she could not go on living in the same house with him. This position of affairs had now lasted two days, and not only the husband and wife themselves, but all the members of their family and the household, were painfully conscious of it. All the members of the family and the household felt that there was no sense in their living together, and that even stray people brought together by chance in any inn had more in common with one another than they, the members of the family and the household of the Oblonskys. The wife did not leave her own apartments; the husband had not been home for two days. The children ran wild all over the house; the English governess quarreled with the housekeeper, and wrote to a friend asking her to look out for a new employ for her; the man cook had walked off the day before just at dinnertime; the kitchenmaid and the coachman had given warning.
Two days after the quarrel, Prince Stepan Arkadyevich Oblonsky - Stiva, as he was called in the fashionable world - woke up at his usual hour, that is, at eight o’clock in the morning, not in his wife’s bedroom, but on the leather-covered sofa in his study. He turned over his stout, well-cared-for person on the springy sofa, as though he would sink into a long sleep again; he vigorously embraced the pillow on its other side and buried his face in it; but all at once he jumped up, sat up on the sofa, and opened his eyes.
`Yes, yes, how was it now?’ he thought, going over his dream. `Yes, how was it? Yes! Alabin was giving a dinner at Darmstadt; no, not Darmstadt, but something American. Yes, but then, Darmstadt was in America. Yes, Alabin was giving a dinner on glass tables, and the tables sang, Il mio tesoro - no, not Il mio tesoro, but something better, and there were some sort of little decanters on the table, and, at the same time, these decanters were women,’ he recalled.
Stepan Arkadyevich’s eyes twinkled gaily, and he pondered with a smile. `Yes, it was jolly, very jolly. There was a great deal more that was delightful, only there’s no putting it into words, or even expressing it in one’s waking thoughts.’ And noticing a gleam of light ............

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