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"Off where?" Mr. Longdon risked. Vanderbank immediately informed him. "To one of the smaller Italian towns. Don't you know?" "Oh yes. Like who is it? I forget." "Anna Karenine? You know about Anna?" "Nanda," said the Duchess, "has told him. But I thought," she went on to Mrs. Brook, "that Lady Fanny, by this time, MUST have gone." "Petherton then," Mrs.
Probably like Anna Karenine to one of the smaller Italian towns." "Anna Karenine? She isn't a bit like Anna." "Of course she isn't so clever," said Mrs. Brook. "But that would spoil her. So it's all right." "I'm glad it's all right," Vanderbank laughed. "But I dare say we shall still have her with us a while." "We shall do that, I trust, whatever happens.
Even if the material conditions of the theatre permitted the presentation of a whole Middlemarch or Anna Karénine as the conditions of the Chinese theatre actually do some dramatists, we cannot doubt, would voluntarily renounce that license of prolixity, in order to cultivate an art of concentration and crisis.
Our mental picture of Anna Karenine is fresh enough and fair enough, but how few can most of us recall out of the myriad progeny of George Sand! Indiana, Valentine, Lelia, do you quite believe in them, would you know them if you met them in the Paradise of Fiction? Noun one might recognise, but there is a haziness about La Petite Fadette.