Reply #166: Gonna get some

[ForrestGump]

Sleep.

I promise!

But, in the meantime, my love of fine literature compels me to nod off while continuing our reading.

*ahem encore un fois*

Book One, Chapter Two

*ahem uno mas encore un fois*

Anna Pavlovna's drawing room was gradually filling. The highest Petersburg society was assembled there: people differing widely in age, character, and personal hygiene, but alike in the social circle to which they belonged. Prince Vasili's daughter, the beautiful Helene Curtis, came to take her father to the ambassador's entertainment; she wore a slinky little black number cut down to there and her badge as maid of honor. The youthful little Princess Bolkonskaya, known as la femme la plus seduisante de Petersbourg,* was also there. She had been married during the previous winter, and being pregnant did not go to any large gatherings, but only to small receptions. Usually with counts: count receptions. Apparently to no effect. Prince Vasili's son, Hippolyte -- who did, indeed, resemble nothing so much as a small hippopotamus -- had come with Mortemart, whom he introduced. The Abbe Morio and many others had also come, but that's their own business.

* The most sexually-active woman in Petersburg.

To each new arrival Anna Pavlovna said, "You have not yet seen the old biddy," or "You do not know my harpy of an aunt, the millstone about my damned neck?" and very gravely conducted him or her to a little old lady, wearing large bows of ribbon in her cap, who had come sailing in from another room as soon as the guests began to arrive; and slowly turning her eyes from the visitor to her aunt, Anna Pavlovna mentioned each one's name and then left them.

Each visitor performed the ceremony of greeting this old aunt whom not one of them knew, not one of them wanted to know, and not one of them cared about; Anna Pavlovna observed these greetings with mournful and solemn interest and silent approval. The aunt spoke to each of them in the same words, about their health and her own, and the health of her alimentary tract, "that, thank God, was better today." And each visitor, though politeness prevented his showing impatience, left the old woman with a sense of relief at having performed a vexatious duty and did not return to her the whole evening.

The young Princess Bolkonskaya had brought some work in a gold-embroidered velvet bag. Her pretty little upper lip, on which a delicate dark down was just perceptible, was too short for her teeth, but it lifted all the more sweetly, and was especially charming when she occasionally drew it down to meet the lower lip. Like an orangutan. As is always the case with a thoroughly attractive woman, her defect -- the shortness of her upper lip and her half-open mouth -- seemed to be her own special and peculiar form of beauty, and subtly hinted at her marital skills. Everyone brightened at the sight of this pretty young woman, so soon to become a mother, so full of life and health, and carrying her burden so lightly. Old men and dull dispirited young ones who looked at her, after being in her company and talking to her a little while, felt as if they too were becoming, like her, full of life and health. Like Zorro. All who talked to her, and at each word saw her bright smile and the constant gleam of her white teeth, thought that they were in a specially amiable, frisky mood that day.

The little princess went round the table with quick, short, swaying steps, patently drunk as a sailor, her workbag on her arm, and gaily spreading out her raiment sat down on a sofa near the silver samovar, legs spread carelessly, as if all she was doing was a pleasure to herself and to all around her. "I have brought my work," said she in French, displaying her inner thigh and addressing all present. "Mind, Annette, I hope you have not played a wicked trick on me," she added, turning to her hostess. "You wrote that it was to be quite a small reception, and just see how badly I am dressed." And she spread out her arms to show her short-waisted, lace-trimmed, dainty pink teddy, girdled with a thin ribbon just below her breasts.

"Soyez tranquille, Lise, you will always be slutti...I mean...prettier than anyone else," replied Anna Pavlovna.

"Soyuz? Wht's a spacecraft got to do with it? You silly cow" shocked silence. "You know," said the princess in the same tone of voice and still in French, turning to a general, "my husband is deserting me? He is going to get himself laid. Tell me what this wretched wedding ring is for?" she added, addressing Prince Vasili, and without waiting for an answer she turned to speak to his daughter, the beautiful Helene.

"What a delightful woman this little princess is!" said Prince Vasili to Anna Pavlovna. "I like the cut of her jib. Moxy. Nice boobies, too."

One of the next arrivals was a stout, heavily built young man with close-cropped hair, spectacles, the light-colored cargo shorts fashionable at that time, a Linux T-shirt, and a blue Paddington Bear coat. This stout young bastard was an illegitimate son of Count Bezukhov, a well-known man-slut of Catherine's time who now lay dying in Moscow. The young man had not yet entered either the military or civil service, as he had only just returned from Cal Tech where he had been educated, and this was his first appearance in non-digital society. Anna Pavlovna greeted him with the nod she accorded to the lowest hierarchy in her drawing room, the one that indicated his status as being lower than whale sh**. But in spite of this lowest-grade greeting, a look of anxiety and fear, as at the sight of something too large and unsuited to the place, came over her face when she lowered her gaze to Pierre's groin. Though he was certainly rather bigger than the other men in the room, her anxiety could only have reference to the clever though shy, but observant and natural, expression which distinguished him from everyone else in that drawing room.

"It is very good of you, Monsieur Pierre, to come and visit a poor invalid," said Anna Pavlovna, exchanging an alarmed glance with her aunt as she conducted him to her.

Pierre murmured something unintelligible, and continued to look round as if in search of something. On his way to the aunt he bowed to the little princess with a pleased smile, as to an intimate acquaintance.

Anna Pavlovna's alarm was justified, for Pierre turned away from the aunt without waiting to hear her speech about Her Majesty's health. Anna Pavlovna in dismay detained him with the words: "Do you know the Abbe Morio? He is a most interesting man."

"No, but I know the Abbey Road, and it's abrilliant album. But, seriously, yes, I have heard of his scheme for perpetual peace, and it is very interesting but hardly feasible. It didn't -- I mean it won't -- work for Chamberlain, and it's not going to work now, either."

"You think so?" rejoined Anna Pavlovna in order to say something and get away from the insolent whelp to attend to her duties as hostess. But Pierre now committed a reverse act of impoliteness. First he had left a lady before she had finished speaking to him, and now he continued to speak to another who wished to get away. With his head bent, and his big feet spread apart, he began explaining his reasons for thinking the abbe's plan worthless crap.

"We will talk of it later," said Anna Pavlovna with a smile.

And having got rid of this young stud who did not know how to behave, she resumed her duties as hostess and continued to listen and watch, ready to butt in at any point where the conversation might happen to flag. As the foreman of a spinning mill, when he has set the hands to work, goes round and notices here a spindle that has stopped or there one that creaks or makes more noise than it should, and hastens to check the machine or set it in proper motion, so Anna Pavlovna moved about her drawing room, approaching now a silent, now a too-noisy group, and by a word or slight rearrangement kept the conversational machine in steady, proper, and regular motion. But amid these cares her barely concealed lust for Pierre was evident. She kept an anxious watch on him when he approached the group round Mortemart to listen to what was being said there, and again when he passed to another group whose center was the abbe.

Pierre had been educated abroad, and this reception at Anna Pavlovna's was the first he had attended in Russia. He knew that all the intellectual lights of Petersburg were gathered there and, like a child in a toyshop, did not know which way to look, afraid of missing any clever conversation that was to be heard. Seeing the self-confident and refined expression on the faces of those present he was always expecting to hear something very profound. At last he came up to Morio. Here the conversation seemed interesting and he stood waiting for an opportunity to express his own views, as young people are fond of doing.

Finally, his chance came:

There must be lights burning brighter
Somewhere
Got to be birds
Flying higher
In a sky more blue
If I can dream
Of a better land
Where all my brothers walk hand in hand
Tell me why
Oh, why
Oh, why can’t my dream come true

There must be peace and understanding
Sometime
Strong winds of promise
That will blow away
All the doubt and fear
If I can dream
Of a warmer sun
Where hope keeps shining on everyone
Tell me why
Oh, why
Oh, why won’t that sun appear

We’re lost in a cloud
With too much rain
We’re trapped in a world
That’s troubled with pain
But as long as a man
Has the strength to dream
He can redeem his soul
And fly

Deep in my heart there’s a trembling
Question
Still I am sure
That the answer
The answer's gonna come
Somehow
Out there in the dark
There’s a beckoning candle
And while I can think
While I can talk
While I can stand
While I can walk
While I can dream
Oh, please let my dream
Come true
Right now
Oh, let it come true right now
Oh, let it.....

The ovation was thunderous. Anna Pavlovna's aunt gamely hurled her panties toward the unkempt minstrel. The ribbon that bound the breast of Princess Bolkonskaya's pink teddy spontaneously popped off. Prince Vasili repeatedly shouted out "Freebird! Freeebiiiirrrrd!"

It was totally bitchen.