Don Quixote

hands with Kamerovsky.
"There, you can never say such charming things," said the
Baroness, turning to Petritsky.
"No- why not? After dinner even I can say things quite as good."
"After dinner there's no merit in them! Well, then, I'll give you
some coffee; go wash and tidy up," said the Baroness, sitting down
again, and anxiously turning a gadget in the new coffee urn.
"Pierre, give me the coffee," she said, addressing Petritsky, whom she
called Pierre, playing on his surname, making no secret of her
relations with him. "I want to put some more in."
"You'll spoil it!"
{PART_ONE|CHAPTER_XXXIV ^paragraph 10}
"No, I won't spoil it! Well, and how is your wife?" said the
Baroness suddenly, interrupting Vronsky's conversation with his
comrade. "We've been marrying you off here. Have you brought your wife
along?"
"No, Baroness. I was born a gypsy, and a gypsy I'll die."
"So much the better- so much the better. Shake hands on it."
And the Baroness, detaining Vronsky, began telling him,
interspersing her story with many jokes, about her latest plans of
life, and seeking his counsel.
"He persists in refusing to give me a divorce! Well, what am I to
do?" (He was her husband.) "Now I want to begin a suit against him.
What would you advise? Kamerovsky, look after the coffee- it's
boiled out; you can see I'm taken up with business! I want a
lawsuit, because I must have my property. You can understand the
stupidity of his saying that I am unfaithful to him," she said
contemptuously, "yet through it he wants to get the benefit of my
fortune."
{PART_ONE|CHAPTER_XXXIV ^paragraph 15}
Vronsky heard with pleasure this lighthearted prattle of a pretty
woman, said yes to everything, gave her half-joking counsel, and
altogether dropped at once into the tone habitual to him in talking to
such women. In his Peterburg world all people were divided into two
utterly opposed kinds. One, the lower, consisted of vulgar, stupid
and, above all, ridiculous people, who believe that one husband
ought to live with the one wife whom he has lawfully wedded; that a
girl should be innocent, a woman modest, and a man manly,
self-controlled, and strong; that one ought to bring up one's
children, earn one's bread and pay one's debts; and various similar
absurdities. Those people were of an old-fashioned and ridiculous
kind. But there was another kind of people- real people, to which they
all belonged, and here the chief thing was to be elegant, magnanimous,
daring, gay, and to abandon oneself without a blush to every
passion, and to laugh at everything else.
For the first moment only, Vronsky was startled, after the
impressions of a quite different world that he had brought with him
from Moscow; but immediately, as though he had thrust his feet into
old slippers, he stepped into his former lighthearted, pleasant world.
The coffee was really never made, but spluttered over everyone and
boiled away, doing just what was required of