ANNA KARENINA 
 
 COUNT LYOF N. TOLSTOI.
 
 KAEENINA. 
 
 BY 
 
 COUNT LYOF N. TOLSTOI. 
 
 IN EIGHT PARTS. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 NATHAN HASKELL DOLE. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO., 
 13 ASTOK PLACE.
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1886, 
 BY T. Y. CEOWELL & CO. 
 
 ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED 
 BY RAND, AVERY, AND COMPANY, 
 
 BOSTON.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 To preserve, so far as possible, the spirit and style of the 
 original, has been the translator's aim in presenting, for 
 the first time to English readers, Count Tolstoi's great novel, 
 "ANNA KAKENINA." 
 
 After the present translation was begun, an anonymous 
 French paraphrase appeared. In order to hasten the prepa- 
 ration of this volume for the press, that version has been 
 used in a few passages, but always with the Russian 
 original at hand. It is a novel which, in spite of some 
 faults of repetition, easily stands in the front rank of the 
 great romances of the world. Its moral lesson is wonderful, 
 perhaps equalled only by that of George Eliot's ' ' Rornola. ' ' 
 The sympathy of the reader will doubtless be moved by the 
 passion of the ill-fated Anna. Married without love to a 
 man old enough to be her father, falling under the fascina- 
 tion of one whom, under happier auspices, she might have 
 wedded with happiness and honor, she takes the law into her 
 own hands. As a recent French critic says, the loves of 
 Vronsky and Anna are almost chaste. But lovely though 
 she be, intellectual and brilliant, the highest type of a 
 woman of the best society, she finds that she cannot defy 
 the law. The mills of the gods grind slowly, but the end is 
 inevitable. 
 
 Polevoi, in his illustrated "History of Russian Litera- 
 ture," says of this story : " Count Tolstoi dwells with espe- 
 cial fondness on the sharp contrast between the frivolity, 
 the tinsel brightness, the tumult and vanity, of the worldly 
 life, and the sweet, holy calm enjoyed by those who, pos- 
 sessing the soil, live amid the beauties of Nature and the 
 pleasures of the family." This contrast will strike the 
 attention of every reader. It is the outgrowth of Count 
 
 iii 
 
 2032473
 
 IV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Tolstoi's own life, a brief sketch of which may be accept- 
 able. 
 
 Count Lyof Nikolayevitch Tolsto'i was born on the 2sth 
 of August, o. s. 1828, at Yasnaia Polyana, in the Govern- 
 ment of Tula. His father was a retired lieutenant-colonel, 
 who traced his ancestry to Count Piotr Andreyevitch Tolstoi, 
 a friend and companion of Peter the Great. His mother 
 was the Princess Marya Nikolayevna Volkonska'ia, the only 
 daughter of Prince Nikolai Sergeyevitch Volkonsky. She 
 died when he was but two years old ; and a distant relative, 
 Tatyana Aleksandrovna Yergolskaia, took charge of the 
 training of the family. In 1838 they all went to live in 
 Moscow, where the eldest sou, Nikolai, was pursuing his 
 studies in the university. But the following summer the 
 father died suddenly, leaving his affairs in confusion ; and 
 Theodore Russell, the German tutor, and Prosper Saint 
 Thomas, the French tutor, both of whom figure in Count 
 Tolstoi's novels, had to be dismissed ; and the family was 
 divided. The two elder brothers remained in Moscow with 
 their paternal aunt, the Countess Aleksandra Ilinishna 
 Osten-Sacken; and Lyof, with his brother Dmitri and his 
 sister Marya, were taken back to Yasnaia Polyana by Ma- 
 dame Yergolskaia. Here they enjoyed a rather desultory 
 education, now under German tutors, and now under Rus- 
 sian seminarists. Jn 1840 the Countess Osten-Sacken died ; 
 and all the Tolstois were taken by their paternal aunt, 
 Pelagia Ilinishna Yushkovaia, who lived with her husband 
 at Kazan. Nikolai left the University of Moscow, and 
 entered that of Kazan. 
 
 In 1843 Count Lyof also entered the university, and took 
 up the study of Oriental languages ; but at the end of a year 
 he exchanged that course for the law, which occupied his 
 attention for two years more. But when his brothers passed 
 their final examination, and went back to the old estate, he 
 suddenly determined to leave the university without gradu- 
 ation, and returned to Yasnaia Polyana, where he lived until 
 1851. In that year his favorite brother, Nikolai, came home 
 from the Caucasus, where he was serving. He inspired 
 Count Lyof with "the desire to see new lands, and new 
 people." He returned with Nikolai', and found the splendid 
 scenery and the wild, unconventional life of this region, 
 which Pushkin, Lermontof, and other great Russian poets 
 had described in their verse, so fascinating, that he entered
 
 INTRODUCTION. V 
 
 the service, as a yuiiker in the fourth battery of the Twen- 
 tieth Artillery Brigade, where his brother held the rank of 
 captain. 
 
 Here in the Caucasus, Count Tolstoi' first began to write 
 fiction. He planned a great romance, which should embrace 
 his early recollections and the traditions of his family. 
 His three stories, "Infancy" (Dyetstoo), "Adolescence" 
 (O'rotchestvo), and "Youth" (Tunost). "Youth" was 
 published in 1852, in the " Contemporary " (Sovremennik) . 
 In the Caucasus he also wrote his popular sketches of war- 
 life, "The Incursion" (Nabyey), "The Cutting of the 
 Forest" (Rubka Lyesa), and his novel, "The Cossaks " 
 (Kazaki) , which did not appear till later. 
 
 Count Tolstoi lived nearly three years in the Caucasus, 
 taking part in numerous expeditions, and enduring all the 
 privations which fell to the lot of the common soldiers. He 
 thus gathered the materials for his remarkable " War 
 Sketches" (Voyennuie Razskazui). When the Eastern 
 war broke out, Count Tolstoi was transferred, at his own 
 request, to the army of the Danube, and was on Prince M. 
 D. Gortchakof's staff. Later he took part in the famous 
 defence of Sevastopol, and was promoted to the rank of 
 division commander. After the storming of Sevastopol, he 
 was sent as special courier to St. Petersburg. At this time 
 he wrote his two sketches, "Sevastopol in December," and 
 " Sevastopol in May." After the war he retired to private 
 life, and for several years spent the winter months in Pe- 
 tersburg and Moscow, and his summers on his estate. These 
 years were the culmination of his literary activity. His 
 story, "Youth" (Yurtost), which he had written in Cir- 
 cassia, as well as the tales, " Sevastopol in August," " The 
 Two Hussars," and "The Three Deaths," appeared about 
 the same time, in the magazines. He began to be recog- 
 nized as one of Russia's greatest writers. 
 
 The emancipation of the serfs [fcrefyanw], in 1861, 
 stirred his interest in agronomic questions ; and, like Kon- 
 stantin Levin, he went to study these questions in other coun- 
 tries of Europe. He also felt it his duty to live constantly 
 on his estate ; and he became justice, or judge, of the peace 
 [mirovoi' sudyd], and was interested in the establishment of 
 a pedagogical journal, called after the name of the place, 
 " Yasnaia Polyana." In 1862 he married Sofia Andreyevna 
 Beers, the daughter of a Moscow doctor, who held a chair in the
 
 Vi IN TR OD UCTION. 
 
 university, and whose wife's family estates were situated 
 not far from Yasnaia Polyana. He had alread}' published his 
 story, "War and Peace" [Voind t'3//r], which described the 
 events of the year 1812 with a master-hand. Great things 
 were predicted and expected of Count Tolstoi ; but he de- 
 voted himself with renewed interest to his efforts in the direc- 
 tion of popular education, and, for more than ten years, 
 published nothing but spellers and readers for the use of 
 district schools. 
 
 In 1873 a famine was raging in a distant province ; and 
 Count Tolstoi wrote a brief and telling letter to one of the 
 Moscow newspapers, drawing public attention to it. He 
 also went personally to the famine-stricken province, and 
 made a report upon the condition of the peasantry, and what 
 he saw. The letter had its effect, and help was sent, both by 
 government and by private individuals. 
 
 In 1875 Count Tolstoi began the publication of " Anna 
 Karenina " in the pages of the "Russian Messenger" 
 \_Rnsxki Vyestnik'}. The publication of this work con- 
 tinued, not for months alone, but for years, and still kept 
 public attention. Not even a break of some months be- 
 tween two of the parts was sufficient to cool the interest 
 of its readers. Its power is immense. After reading it, real 
 life seems like fiction, and fiction like real life. There is 
 not a detail added that does not increase the effect of this 
 realism. In certain scenes, indeed, the realism is too intense 
 for our Puritan taste ; and, perforce, several of these scenes 
 have been more or less modified in the present translation. 
 For the most part, the translation follows the original. In 
 order to preserve, so far as possible, the Russian flavor of 
 the story, many characteristic Russian words have been em- 
 ployed, always accompanied by their meaning, and generally 
 accented properly. A glossary of those used more than once 
 will be found. This use of Russian words was adopted after 
 some deliberation, and in spite of the risk of seeming affec- 
 tation. The spelling of these words, and of the proper 
 names, is a bog in which it is almost impossible not to get 
 foundered. Consistency would seem to demand one of two 
 courses, either to spell all words as they are spelled in 
 Russian, or to spell them as they are pronounced. Accord- 
 ing to the first method, the name Catherine would be spelled 
 Ekaterina; according to the other, Yekatyerina. According 
 to the one, the word for father would be otets; according to
 
 INTRODUCTION. vii 
 
 the other, atyets. The translator lays not the slightest claim 
 to consistenc}'. The same letter he has sometimes repre- 
 sented by the diphthong ia, sometimes by ya. He has also 
 used the numerous diminutives for proper names, which are 
 so characteristic of Russian ; and, in order that there may be 
 no confusion, he has made a list of the principal characters, 
 with their aliases. The Russians use many interjections ; 
 and the simpler of them have been introduced, for the same 
 purpose of imparting the foreign flavor. In some cases, the 
 terms "Madame" and "Mr." have been used; but in 
 Russian, the difference in sex is shown by the termination. 
 Thus, the wife of Alekse'i Aleksaudrovitch Kare"nin is spoken 
 of either as Anna Arkadyevna, or simply as Kare"nina. 
 Thus, Prince Tverskoi and the Princess Tverskai'a. 'It will 
 be noticed that all characters bear two names besides the 
 family name. The first is the baptismal name, the second 
 is the patronymic. Thus, Alekse'i Aleksandrovitch means 
 Alexis, the son of Alexander : Anna Arkadyevna means 
 Anna, the daughter of Arcadius. This nomenclature is a 
 relic of the patriarchal family system, and is paralleled in 
 many countries : as, for example, in Scotland, where Tarn 
 MacTavish means Thomas Davidson ; or in Wales, where 
 every man has an Ap to his name. The term translated 
 " prince," perhaps, needs some explanation. A Russian 
 prince may be a boot-black or a ferryman. The word kniaz 
 denotes a descendant of any of the hundreds of petty rulers, 
 who, before the time of the unification of Russia, held the 
 land. They all claim descent from the semi-mythical Rurik ; 
 and as every son of a kniaz bears the title, it may be easily 
 imagined how numerous they are. The term prince, there- 
 fore, is really a too high-sounding title to represent it. 
 
 It need scarcely be added, after what has been said of the 
 author, that he has evidently painted himself in the character 
 of Levin. His fondness for the muzhik, his struggles with 
 doubts, his final emergence into the light of faith, are all 
 paralleled in this country proprietor, whose triumph brings 
 the book to a close. It is interesting to turn from " My 
 Religion" to the evolution of this character, who seems 
 vaguely to forebode some such spiritual transformation. At 
 all events, the teaching of the story cannot fail to be con- 
 sidered in the highest degree moral and stimulating. 
 
 NATHAN HASKELL DOLE.
 
 CHIEF PERSONS OF THE STORY. 
 
 Alekse"! Aleksandrovitch Karenin. 
 
 Anna Arkadyevna Karenina. 
 
 Count Aleksei Kirillovitch Vronsky (Alosha). 
 
 His mother, Countess Yronskaia. 
 
 Prince (Kniaz) Stepan Arkadyevitch Oblonsky (Stiva). 
 
 Princess (Kniayina) Darya Aleksandrovna Oblonskaia (Dolly, D6- 
 linka, Dashenka). 
 
 Konstantin (Kostia) Dmitriyevitch (Dmitritch) Levin, proprietor of 
 Pokrovsky. 
 
 His half-brother, Sergei Ivanovitch (Ivanuitch, Ivanitch) Koznuishef. 
 
 Prince Aleksander Shcherbatsky. 
 
 Princess Shcherbatska'ia. 
 
 Their daughter, Ekaterina (Kitty, Katyonka, Katerina, Katya) Alek- 
 sandrovna Shcherbatska'ia, afterwards Levina.
 
 ANNA KARENINA. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 " Vengeance is mine, I win repay." 
 
 I. 
 
 ALL happ3 T families resemble one another, every unhappy 
 family is unhappy after its own fashion. 
 
 Confusion reigned in the house of the Oblonskys. The 
 wife had discovered that her husband was too attentive to 
 the French governess who had been in their employ, and she 
 declared that she could not live in the same house with him. 
 For three days this situation had lasted, and the torment was 
 felt by the parties themselves and by all the members of the 
 family and the domestics. All the members of the family 
 and the domestics felt that there was no sense in their trying 
 to live together longer, and that in every hotel people who 
 meet casually had more mutual interests than they, the 
 members of the family and the domestics of the house of 
 Oblonsky. Madame did not come out of her own rooms : it 
 was now the third day that the husband had not been at 
 home. The children ran over the whole house as though 
 they were crazy ; the English maid quarrelled with the house- 
 keeper and wrote to a friend, begging her to find her a new 
 place. The head cook went off the evening before just at 
 dinner-time ; the black cook and the coachman demanded 
 their wages. 
 
 On the third day after the quarrel, Prince Stepan Arkad- 
 yevitch Oblousky Stiva, as he was known in society 
 awoke at the usual hour, that is to say about eight o'clock, 
 not in his wife's chamber, but in his library, on a leather- 
 
 5
 
 6 ANNA KABtiNINA. 
 
 covered lounge. He turned his pampered form over on the 
 springs of the lounge. In his efforts to catch another nap, 
 he took the cushion and hugged it close to his other cheek. 
 But suddenly he sat up and opened his eyes. 
 
 " Well, well ! how was it? " he thought, recalling a dream. 
 "Yes, how was it? Yes! Alabin gave a dinner at Darm- 
 stadt ; no, not at Darmstadt, but it was something American. 
 res, but this Darmstadt was in America. Yes, Alabin gave 
 a dinner on glass tables, yes, and the tables sang, ' II mio 
 ti-xnro : ' no, not ' II mio tesoro,' but something better; and 
 some little decanters, they were women ! " said he, continuing 
 his recollections. 
 
 Prince Stepan's eyes gleamed with 303" and he smiled as 
 he thought, " Yes, it was good, very good. It was extremely 
 elegant, but you can't tell it in words, and you can't express 
 the reality even in thought." Then noticing a ray of sun- 
 light that came through the side of one of the heavy curtains, 
 he gayly set foot down from the lounge, found his gilt leather 
 slippers they had been embroidered for him by his wife the 
 year before as a birthday present and according to the old 
 custom which he had kept up for nine years, without rising, 
 he stretched out his hand to the place where in his chamber 
 lie hung his dressing-gown. And then he suddenly remem- 
 bered how and why he had slept, not in his wife's chamber, 
 but in the library ; the smile vanished from his face and he 
 frowned. 
 
 " Ach ! ach ! ach ! ah," he groaned, recollecting every thing 
 that had occurred. And before his mind arose once more 
 all the details of the quarrel with his wife, all the hopeless- 
 ness of his situation, and most lamentable of all, his own 
 fault. 
 
 "No! she will not and she can not forgive me. And 
 what is the worst of it, 'twas all my own fault my own 
 fault, and yet I am not to blame. It's all like a drama," he 
 thought. "Ach! ach! ach!" he kept murmuring in his 
 desp.-iir, as he revived the unpleasant memories of this 
 quarrel. 
 
 Most disagreeable of all was that first moment when 
 returning from the theatre, happy and self-satisfied, with a 
 monstrous pear for his wife in his hand, he did not find her 
 in the sitting-room, did not find her in the library, and at 
 last saw her in her chamber holding the fatal letter which 
 revealed all.
 
 ANNA 
 
 She, his Dolly, this forever busy and fussy and foolish 
 creature as he always looked upon her. sat motionless with 
 the note in her hand, and looked at him with an expression 
 of terror, despair and wrath. 
 
 "What is this? This?" she demanded, pointing to the 
 note. 
 
 Prince Stepan's torment at this recollection was caused 
 less by the fact itself than by the answer which he gave to 
 these words of his wife. His experience at that moment 
 was the same that other people have had when unexpectedly 
 caught in some shameful deed. He was unable to prepare 
 his face for the situation caused by his wife's discovery of 
 his sin. Instead of getting offended, or denying it, or jus- 
 tifying himself, or asking forgiveness, or showing indiffer- 
 ence any thing would have been better than what he really 
 did in spite of himself, b}" a reflex action of the brain as 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch explained it, for he loved Physiology, 
 absolutely in spite of himself he suddenly smiled with his 
 ordinary good-humored and therefore stupid smile. 
 
 He could not forgive himself for that stupid smile. When 
 Dolly saw that smile, she trembled as with physical pain, 
 poured forth a torrent of bitter words, quite in accordance 
 with her natural temper, and fled from the room. Since that 
 time she had not wanted to see her husband. 
 
 "That stupid smile caused the whole trouble," thought 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch. 
 
 " But what is to be done about it? " he asked himself in 
 despair, and found no answer. 
 
 II. 
 
 STEPAN ARKADYEVITCH was a sincere man as far as he him- 
 self was concerned. He could not deceive himself and per- 
 suade himself that he repented of what he had done. He 
 could not feel sorry that he. a handsome, susceptible man of 
 four and thirty, did not now love his wife, the mother of his 
 seven children, five of whom were living, though she was 
 only a year his junior. He regretted only that he had not 
 succeeded in hiding it better from her. But he felt the whole 
 weight of the situation and pitied his wife, his children and 
 himself. Possibly he would have had better success in 
 deceiving his wife had he realized that this news would have
 
 H- ANNA 
 
 had such an effect upon her. Evidently this view of it had 
 never occurred to him before, but he had a dim idea that his 
 wife was aware of his infidelity and looked at it through her 
 finders. As she had lost her freshness, was beginning to 
 look old, was no longer pretty and far from distinguished 
 and entirely commonplace, though she was an excellent ma- 
 tron, he had thought that she would allow her innate sense 
 of justice to plead for him. But it proved to be quite the 
 
 contrary. 
 
 " O bow wretched ! ay! ay! ay!" said Prince Stepan to 
 himself over and over. He could not collect his thoughts. 
 " And how well every thing was going until this happened ! 
 How delightfully we lived! She was content, happy with 
 the children; I never interfered with her in any way, I 
 allowed her to do as she pleased with the children and the 
 household! To be sure it was bad that she had been our 
 own governess ; 'twas bad. There is something trivial and 
 common in playing the gallant to one's own governess ! But 
 what a governess ! [He gave a quick thought to Mile. Ro- 
 land's black roguish eyes and hei* smile.] But as long as she 
 was here in the house with us I did not permit myself any 
 liberties. And the worst of all is that she is already. . . . 
 Every thing happens just to spite me. Ay ! ay ! ay ! But 
 what, what is to be done? " 
 
 There was no answer except that common answer which 
 life gives to all the most complicated and insoluble questions. 
 Her answer is this: You must live according to circum- 
 stances, in other words, forget yourself. But as you cannot 
 forget yourself in sleep at least till night, as you cannot 
 return to that music which the decanter-women sang, there- 
 fore you must forget yourself in the dream of life ! 
 
 "We shall see by and by," said Stepan Arkadyevitch to 
 himself, and rising he put on his gray dressing-gown with 
 blue silk lining, tied the tassels into a hast}" knot, and took 
 a full breath into his ample lungs. Then with his usual firm 
 step he went over to the window, where he lifted the curtain 
 and loudly rang the bell. It was answered by his old friend, 
 the valet de chambre Matv6, bringing his clothes, boots and a 
 telegram. Behind Matve" came the barber with the shaving 
 utensils. 
 
 "Are there any papers from the court-house?" asked 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch, taking the telegram and placing him- 
 self before the mirror.
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 9 
 
 . . . "On the breakfast- table," replied Matv6, looking 
 with inquiry and interest at his master, and after an instant's 
 pause added with a cunning smile, " I just came from the 
 boss of the livery-stable." 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch answered not a word, but he looked 
 at Matve in the mirror. In their interchange of glances it 
 could be seen how they understood each other. The look of 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch seemed to ask, " Why did you say 
 that? Don't you know?" 
 
 Matve thrust his hands in his sack-coat pockets, kicked out 
 his leg, and with an almost imperceptible smile on his good- 
 natured face, looked back to his master : 
 
 " I ordered him to come next Sunda}-, and till then that 
 you and I should not be annoyed without reason," said he, 
 with a phrase apparently ready on his tongue. 
 
 Prince Stepan perceived that Matv6 wanted to jest and 
 attract attention to himself. He tore open the telegram 
 and read it, guessing at the words that were written in -cipher, 
 and his face brightened. 
 
 ..." Matve", sister Anna Arkadyevna is coming," said 
 he, staying for a moment the plump, gleaming hand of his 
 barber who was trying to make a pink path through his long, 
 curly whiskers. 
 
 " Thank God," cried Matve, showing by this exclamation 
 that he understood as well as his master the significance of 
 this arrival, that it meant that Anna Arkadyevna, Prince 
 Stepan 's loving sister, might effect a reconciliation between 
 husband and wife. 
 
 " Alone or with her husband? " asked Matv. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch could not speak, as the barber was 
 engaged on his upper lip, but he lifted one finger. Matv 
 nodded his head toward the mirror. 
 
 " Alone. Get her room ready? " 
 
 " Report to Darya Aleksaudrovua, and let her decide." 
 
 "To Darya Aleksandrovna? " reported Matve" rather 
 sceptically. 
 
 " Yes ! report to her. And here, take the telegram, give 
 it to her and do as she says." 
 
 "You want to tiy an experiment," was the thought in 
 Matve's mind, but he only said, " I will obey ! " 
 
 By this time Stepan Arkadyevitch had finished his bath 
 and his toilet, and was just putting on his clothes, when 
 Matv6, stepping slowly with squeaking boots, and holding the
 
 10 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 telegram in his hand, returned to the room. . . . The barber 
 was no longer there. 
 
 " Darya Aleksandrovna bade me tell you she is going 
 away. . . . To do just as they as you please about it," 
 said Matv6 with a smile lurking in his eyes. Thrusting his 
 hands in his pockets, and bending his head to one side, he 
 looked at his master. Stepan Arkadyevitch was silent. 
 Then a good-humored and rather pitiful smile lighted up his 
 handsome face. 
 
 " Hey? Matve" ? " he said, shaking his head. 
 
 t; It's nothing, sir; she will come to her senses," an- 
 swered Matv. 
 
 ' Will come to her senses? " 
 
 " JStysactly." 
 
 " Do you think so? "Who is there?" asked Stepan Ar- 
 kadyevitch, hearing the rustle of a woman's dress behind 
 the door. 
 
 " It's me," said a powerful and pleasant female voice, 
 and in the door-way appeared the severe and pimply face of 
 Matriona Filimonovna, the nurse. 
 
 " Well, what is it, Matriosha? " asked Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch, meeting her at the door. 
 
 Notwithstanding the fact that Stepan Arkadyevitch was 
 entirely in the wrong as regarded his wife, as he himself con- 
 fessed, still almost every one in the house, even the old 
 nurse, Daiya's chief friend, was on his side. 
 
 " Well, what?" he asked gloomily. 
 
 " You go down, sir, ask her forgiveness, just once. Per- 
 haps the Lord will bring it out right. She is tormenting her- 
 self grievously, and it is pitiful to see her ; and every thing 
 in the house is going criss-cross. The children, sir, you 
 must have pity on them. -Ask her forgiveness, sir ! What 
 is to be done? If you like to coast down hill you've got 
 to . . ." 
 
 u But she won't accept an apology ..." 
 
 "But you do your part. God is merciful, sir: pray to 
 God." 
 
 " Very well, then, come on," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, 
 suddenly blushing. " Very well, let me have my things," 
 said he, turning to Matve", and resolutely throwing off his 
 dressing-gown. 
 
 Matve had every thing all ready for him, and stood 
 blowing off invisible dust from the shirt stiff as a horse
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 11 
 
 collar, in which he proceeded with evident satisfaction to 
 invest his master's luxurious form. 
 
 III. 
 
 HAVING dressed, Stepan Arkadyevitch sprinkled himself 
 with cologne, straightened the sleeves of his shirt, according 
 to his wont, filled his pockets with cigarettes, portemonnaie, 
 matches, and his watch with its locket and double chain, and 
 shaking out his handkerchief, feeling clean, well-perfumed, 
 healthy and happy in body, if not in mind, went out to the 
 dining-room, where his coffee was already waiting for him, 
 and next the coffee his letters and the papers from the court- 
 house. 
 
 He read his letters. One was very disagreeable, from 
 a merchant who was negotiating for the purchase of a forest 
 on his wife's estate. It was necessary to sell this wood, 
 but now there could be nothing done about it until a recon- 
 ciliation was effected with his wife. Most unpleasant it was 
 to think that his interests in this approaching transaction 
 were complicated with his reconciliation to his wife. And 
 the thought that this interest might be his motive, that his 
 desire for a reconciliation with his wife was caused by his 
 desire to sell the forest, this thought worried him. 
 
 Having finished his letters Stepau Arkadyevitch took up 
 the papers from the court-house, rapidly turned over the 
 leaves of two deeds, made several notes with a big pencil, 
 and then pushing them away, took his coffee. While he was 
 drinking it he opened a morning journal still damp, and 
 began to read. 
 
 It was a liberal paper which Stepan Arkadyevitch sub- 
 scribed to and read. It was not extreme in its views, but 
 advocated those principles which the majority hold. And 
 in spite of the fact that he was not interested in science or 
 art or politics, in the true sense of the word, he strongly 
 adhered to the views on all such subjects, as the majority, 
 including this paper, advocated, and he changed them only 
 when the majority changed ; or more correctly, he did not 
 change them, but they changed themselves imperceptibly. 
 
 Prince Stepan never chose a line of action or an opinion, 
 but thought and action were alike suggested to him, just as 
 he never chose the shape of a hat or coat, but took those
 
 12 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 
 
 that were fashionable. And for one who lived in the upper 
 ten, through the necessity of some mental activity, it was as 
 indispensable to have views as to have a hat. If there was 
 any reason why he preferred a liberal rather than the conser- 
 vative direction which some of his circle followed, it was not 
 that he found a liberal tendency more rational, but that it 
 better suited his mode of life. The liberal party said that 
 every thing in Russia was wretched ; and the fact was, that 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch had a good many debts and was decid- 
 edly short of money. The liberal party said that marriage 
 was a defunct institution and that it needed to be remodelled. 
 And the fact was, that domestic life afforded Stepan Arkad- 
 yevitch very little pleasure, and compelled him to lie, and to 
 assume that it was contrary to his nature. The liberal party 
 said, or rather took it for granted, that religion was only a 
 curb on the barbarous portion of the community ; and the 
 fact was, that Stepan Arkadyevitch could not bear the 
 shortest prayer without pain, and he could not comprehend 
 the necessity of all these awful and high-sounding words 
 about the other world when it was so very pleasant to live in 
 this. And moreover Stepan Arkadyevitch, who liked a merry 
 jest, was sometimes fond of scandalizing a quiet man by say- 
 ing that any one who was proud of his origin ought not to 
 stop at Rurik and deny his earliest ancestor the monkey. 
 Thus the liberal side had become a habit with Stepan Arkad- 
 yevitch, and he liked his paper, just as he liked his cigar 
 after dinner, because of the slight haziness which it caused 
 in his brain. He now read the leading editorial, which ex- 
 plained how in our day a cry is raised, without reason, over 
 the danger that radicalism may swallow up all the conserva- 
 tive elements, and that government ought to take measures 
 to crush the hydra of revolution, and how, on the contrary. 
 " according to our opinion, the danger lies not in this imagi- 
 nary hydra of revolution, but in the inertia of traditions 
 which block progress," and so on. He read through another 
 article on finance in which Bentham and Mill were mentioned 
 and which dropped some sharp hints for the ministry. With 
 his peculiar quickness of comprehension he appreciated each 
 point, from whom and against whom and on what occasion 
 each was directed; and this as usual afforded him some 
 amusement. But his satisfaction was poisoned by the re- 
 membrance of Matriona's advice and by the chaos that 
 reigned in the house. He read also that Count von Beust
 
 ANNA KARNINA. 13 
 
 was reported to have left for Wiesbaden, that there was to 
 be uo more gray hair ; he read about the sale of a light car- 
 riage and the offer of a young person. But these items did 
 not afford him quiet satisfaction and ironical pleasure as 
 ordinarily. 
 
 Having finished his paper, his second cup of coffee, and a 
 buttered kalatch, he stood up, shook the crumbs of the roll 
 from his vest, and filling his broad chest, smiled joyfully, 
 not because there was any thing extraordinarily pleasant in 
 his mind, but the joyful smile was caused by good digestion. 
 
 But this joyful smile immediately brought back the memory 
 of every thing, and he sank into thought. 
 
 Two children's voices Stepan Arkadyevitch recognized 
 the voice of Grisha, his youngest boy, and Tania, his eldest 
 daughter were now heard behind the door. They brought 
 something and dropped it. 
 
 " I tell you, you can't put passengers on top," cried the 
 little girl in English. ki Now pick 'em up." 
 
 "Every thing is at sixes and sevens," thought Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch. " Now here the children are, running wild ! " 
 Then going to the door, he called to them. They dropped 
 the little box which served them for a railway train, and ran 
 to their father. 
 
 The little girl, her father's favorite, ran in boldly, em- 
 braced him and laughingly clung around his neck, enjoying 
 as usual the odor which exhaled from his whiskers. Then 
 kissing his face reddened by his bending position, and 
 beaming with tenderness, the little girl unclasped her hands 
 and wanted to run away again, but her father held her 
 back. 
 
 " What is mamma doing?" he asked, caressing his daugh- 
 ter's smooth, soft neck. " How are 3'ou? " he added, smiling 
 at the boy who stood saluting him. He acknowledged he 
 had less love for the little boy, yet he tried to be impartial. 
 But the boy felt the difference, and did not smile back in 
 reply to his father's chilling smile. 
 
 Mamma? She's up," answered the little girl. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch sighed, and thought, " It shows that 
 she has spent another sleepless night." 
 
 ' ' What ? is she happy ? ' ' 
 
 The little girl knew that there was trouble between her 
 father and mother, and that her mother could not be happy, 
 and that her father ought to know it, and that he was dissem-
 
 14 ANNA 
 
 bling when he asked her so lightly. And she blushed for 
 her father. He instantly perceived it and also blushed. 
 
 "I don't know," she said: ''she told me not to study, 
 but she told me to go with Miss Hull over to grandmother's." 
 
 "Well, then, run along, TanchurotcKka moya. Oh, yes, 
 wait," said he, still detaining her and smoothing her delicate 
 little hand. 
 
 He took down from the mantel-piece a box of candy that 
 he had placed there the day before, and gave her two pieces, 
 selecting her favorite chocolate and vanilla. 
 
 " For Grisha? " she asked, pointing at the chocolate. 
 
 "Yes, yes;" and still smoothing her soft shoulder he 
 kissed her on the neck and hair, and let her go. 
 
 " The carnage is at the door," said Matve, and he added, 
 " A woman is here to ask a favor." 
 
 "Has she been here long?" demanded Stepan Arkady e- 
 vitch. 
 
 " Half an hour." 
 
 " How many times have you been told never to keep any 
 one waiting? " 
 
 "I had to get your coffee ready," replied Matv6 in his 
 kind, rough voice, at which no one could ever take offence. 
 
 " Well, ask her up instantly," said Prince Stepan with an 
 angry face. 
 
 The petitioner, the wife of Captain Kalenin, asked some 
 impossible and nonsensical favor ; but Prince Stepan. accord- 
 ing to his custom, gave her a comfortable seat, listened to 
 her story without interrupting, and then gave her careful 
 advice to whom and how to apply, and in lively and eloquent 
 style wrote in his big, scrawling, but handsome and legible 
 hand a note to the person who might be able to aid her. Hav- 
 ing dismissed the captain's wife, Stepan Arkadyevitch took 
 his hat and stood for a moment trying to remember whether 
 he had not forgotten something. The result was that he for- 
 got nothing except what he wanted to forget his wife. 
 
 " Ah, yes ! " He dropped his head, and a gloomy expres- 
 sion came over his handsome face. " To go, or not to go," 
 said he to himself ; and an inner voice told him that it was 
 not advisable to go, that there was no way out of it except 
 through falsehood, that to straighten, to 'smooth out their 
 relations was impossible, because it was impossible to make 
 her attractive and lovable again, or to make him an old man 
 insensible to passion. Nothing but falsehood and lying could
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 15 
 
 come of it, and falsehood and lying were opposed to his 
 nature. 
 
 " But it must be done sooner or later ; it can't remain so 
 always," he said, striving to gain courage. He straightened 
 himself, took out a cigarette, lighted it, inhaled the smoke 
 two or three times, threw it into a pearl-lined ash-tray, went 
 with quick steps towards the sitting-room, and opened the 
 door into his wife's sleeping- room. 
 
 IV. 
 
 DARYA ALEKSANDROVXA, dressed in a kofiotchka (or jersey) 
 and surrounded by all sorts of things thrown in confusion, 
 was standing in the room before an open chest of drawers 
 from which she was removing the contents. She had hastily 
 pinned back her hair, which now showed thin, but had once 
 been thick and beautiful, and her great eyes staring from 
 her pale, worn face had an expression of terror. When she 
 heard her husband's steps she turned to the door, and vainly 
 tried to put on a stern and forbidding face. She knew that 
 she feared him and. that she dreaded the coming interview. 
 She was in the act of doing what she had attempted to do a 
 dozen times during the three days, and that was to gather up 
 her own effects and those of her children and escape to her 
 mother's house. Yet she could not bring herself to do it. 
 Now, as before, she said to herself that things could not re- 
 main as they were, that she must take some measures to 
 punish, to shame him in partial expiation for the pain that 
 he had caused her. She still said that it was her duty to 
 leave him, but she felt that it was impossible : it was impos- 
 sible to get rid of the thought that he was still her husband 
 and she loved him. Moreover she confessed that if in her 
 own home she had barely succeeded in taking care of her 
 five children, it would be far worse where she was going with 
 them. Her youngest was already suffering from the effects 
 of a poorly made broth, and the rest had been obliged to go 
 without dinner the night before. She felt that it was impos- 
 sible to go. yet for the sake of deceiving herself she was 
 collecting her things under the pretence of going. 
 
 AVheu she saw her husband, she thrust her hands into the 
 drawers of the bureau and did not lift her head until he was 
 close to her. Then in place of the severe and determined
 
 16 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 
 
 look which she intended to assume, she turned to him a face 
 full of pain and indecision. 
 
 "Dolly," said he in a gentle subdued voice. She lifted 
 her head, and gazed at him, hoping to see a humble and sub- 
 missive mien ; but he was radiant with fresh life and health. 
 She surveyed him from head to foot with his radiant life and 
 healthy face, and she thought, "He is happy and contented 
 but I ? Ah, this good nature which others find so pleas- 
 ant in him is revolting to me ! " Her mouth grew firm, the 
 muscles of her right cheek contracted nervously, and she 
 looked straight ahead. 
 
 " What do you want? " she demanded in a quick, unnatu- 
 ral tone. 
 
 " Dolly," he repeated with a quaver in his voice, " Anna 
 is coming to-day." 
 
 " Well, what is that to me? I cannot receive her." 
 
 " Still, it must be done, Dolly." 
 
 " Go away ! go away ! go away ! " she cried without look- 
 ing at him, and as though her words were torn from her by 
 physical agony. Stepan Arkadyevitch might be able to pei 1 - 
 suade himself that all would come out right according to 
 Matve's prediction, and he might be able to read his morn- 
 ing paper and drink his coffee tranquill} 7 ; but when he saw 
 his wife's anguish, and heard her piteous ciy, he breathed 
 hard, something rose in his throat, and his eyes filled with 
 tears. 
 
 "My God! What have I done? for the love of God! 
 See ..." He could not say another word for the sobs 
 that choked him. 
 
 She shut the drawer violently, and looked at him. 
 
 "Dolly, what can I say? Only one thing: forgive me. 
 Just think ! Cannot nine years of my life pay for a single 
 minute, a minute? "... 
 
 She let her eyes fall, and listened to what he was going to 
 say, as though she hoped that she would be undeceived. 
 
 "A single moment of temptation," he ended, and was 
 going to continue ; but at that word, Dolly's lips again closed 
 tight as if from physical pain, and again the muscles of her 
 right cheek contracted. 
 
 "Go away, go away from here," she cried still more 
 impetuously, " and don't speak to me of your temptations 
 and your wretched conduct." 
 
 She attempted to leave the room, but she almost fell, and
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 17 
 
 was obliged to lean upon a chair for support. Oblonsky's 
 face grew melancholy, his lips trembled, and his eyes filled 
 with tears. 
 
 " Dolly," said he, almost sobbing, " for the love of God, 
 think of the children. They are not to blame ; I am the one 
 to blame. Punish me ! Tell me how I can atone for my 
 fault. ... I am ready to do any thing. I am sorry ! AVords 
 can't express how sorry I am. Now, Dolly, forgive me ! " 
 
 She sat down. He heard her quick, hard breathing, and 
 his soul was filled with pity for her. She tried more than 
 once to speak, but could not utter a word. He waited. 
 
 " You think of the children, because you like to play with 
 them ; but I think of them, too, and I know what they have 
 lost," said she, repeating one of the phrases that had been 
 in her mind during the last three days. 
 
 She had used the familiar tui (thou), and he looked at her 
 with gratitude, and made a movement as though he would 
 take her hand, but she avoided him with abhorrence. 
 
 " I have consideration for my children, and 1 will do all in 
 the world for them : but I am not sure in my own mind 
 whether I ought to remove them from their father or to leave 
 them with a father who is a libertine, yes, a libertine ! . . . 
 Now tell me after this, this that has happened, whether we 
 can live together. Is it possible? Tell me, is it possible? " 
 she demanded, raising her voice. " When my husband, the 
 father of my children, makes love to their governess ..." 
 
 . . . "But what is to be done about it? what is to be 
 done?" said he, interrupting with broken voice, not know- 
 ing what he said, and feeling thoroughly humiliated. 
 
 "You are revolting to me, you are insulting," she cried 
 with increasing anger. ;t Your tears . . .water! You never 
 loved me ; you have no heart, no honor. You are abomin- 
 able, revolting in my eyes, and henceforth you are a stranger 
 to me, yes, a stranger," and she repeated with spiteful 
 anger this word " stranger " which was so terrible to her own 
 ears. 
 
 He looked at her with surprise and fear, not realizing how 
 he exasperated his wife by his pity. It was the only feeling, 
 as Dolly well knew, that he retained for her : all his love for 
 her was dead. " No, she hates me, she will not forgive me," 
 was the thought in his mind. 
 
 " This is terrible, terrible ! " he cried. 
 
 At this moment one of the children iu the next room be-
 
 18 ANNA KAIttfNINA. 
 
 gan to cry, and Darya Aleksandrovna's face softened. She 
 seemed to collect her thoughts for a second like a person who 
 returns to reality ; then as if remembering where she was, she 
 hastened to the door. 
 
 " At any rate she loves my child," thought Oblonsky, who 
 had noticed the effect on her face of the little one's sorrow. 
 " My child ; how then can I seem so revolting to her? " 
 
 " Dolly ! one word more," he said, following her. 
 
 " If you follow me, I will call the domestics, the children ! 
 so that everybody may know that you are infamous ! As 
 for me, I leave this very day, and you may keep on with 
 your ..." and she went out and slammed the door. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch sighed, wiped his brow, and softly 
 left the room. " Matv says this can be settled ; but how? 
 I don't see the possibility. Ach ! Ach ! how terrible ! and 
 how foolishly she shrieked," said he to himself as he recalled 
 the epithets which she applied to him. ' Perhaps the cham- 
 ber-maids heard her ! horribly foolish ! horribly ! ' ' 
 
 It was Friday, and in the dining-room the German clock- 
 maker was winding the clocks. Stepan Arkadyevitch re- 
 membered a pleasantry that he had made about this accurate 
 German ; how he had said that he must have been wound up 
 himself for a lifetime for the purpose of winding clocks, and 
 he smiled. Stepan Arkadyevitch loved a good joke. " Per- 
 haps it will come out all right ! 'twas a good little word : 
 it will come out all right," he thought. 
 
 .Matve'!" he shouted; and when the old servant ap- 
 peared, he said, " Have Marya put the best room in order 
 for Anna Arkadyevna." 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch took his fur coat, and started down 
 the steps. 
 
 " Shall you dine at home? " asked Matve as he escorted 
 him down. 
 
 " That depends. Here, take this if you need to spend any 
 thing," said he, taking out a bill of ten rubles. li Will that 
 be enough? " 
 
 ' Whether it is enough or not, it will have to do," said 
 Matve', as he shut the carriage-door and went back to the 
 house. 
 
 Meantime Darya Aleksandrovna, having pacified the child 
 and knowing by the sound of the carriage that he was gone, 
 came back to her room. This was her sole refuge from the
 
 AXXA K All XIX A. 19 
 
 domestic troubles that besieged her when she went out. 
 Even during the short time that she had been in her child's 
 room the English maid and Matriona Filimonovna asked her 
 all sorts of questions, which she alone could answer : What 
 clothes should they put on the children? should they give 
 them milk? should they try to get another cook? . 
 
 " Ach ! leave me alone, leave me alone ! " she cried, and 
 hastened back to the chamber and sat down in the place where 
 she had been talking with her husband. Then clasping her 
 thin hands, on whose fingers the rings would scarcely stay, 
 she reviewed the whole conversation. 
 
 " He has gone ! But has he broken with her? " she asked 
 herself. "Does he still continue to see her? Why didn't 
 I ask him? No, no, we cannot live together. And if we 
 continue to live in the same house, we are only strangers, 
 strangers forever! " she repeated, with a strong emphasis 
 on the word that hurt her so cruelly. " How I loved him! 
 my God, how I loved him ! . . . How I loved him ! and even 
 now do I not love him? Do I not love him even more tlfan 
 before? and what is most terrible . . . " she was interrupted 
 by Matriona Filimonovna, who said as she stood in the door- 
 way, " Please give orders to have my brother come : he will 
 get dinner. If you doi't, it will be like yesterday, when the 
 children did not have any thing to eat for six hours." 
 
 " Very good, I will come and give the order. Have you 
 sent for some fresh milk? " 
 
 And Darya Aleksandrovna entered into her daily tasks, 
 and for the time beiu; forgot her sorrow. 
 
 V. 
 
 STEFAN ARKADYEVITCH had done well at school, thanks to 
 his excellent natural gifts, but he was lazy and idle, and con- 
 sequently had been at the foot of his class. Although he 
 had always been gay, and took a low rank in the Tchin, and 
 was still quite young, he nevertheless held an important 
 salaried position as nutchalnik, or president of one of the 
 courts in Moscow. This place he had won through the good 
 offices of his sister Anna's husband, Aleksei Aleksaudrovitch 
 Karenin, who was one of the most influential members of 
 the ministry. But even if Karenin had not been able to get 
 this place for Stiva Arkady evitch, a hundred other people
 
 20 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 brothers, sisters, cousins, uncles, aunts would have got 
 il fur him, or found him some place as good, together with 
 the six thousand rubles' salary which he needed for his es- 
 tablishment, his affairs being somewhat out of order in spite 
 of his wife's considerable fortune. Half the people of 
 Moscow and St. Petersburg were relatives or friends of Ste- 
 pau Arkadyevitch ; he was born into the society of the rich 
 and powerful of this world. A third of the officials attached 
 to the court and in government employ had been friends of 
 his father, and had known him from the time when he wore 
 petticoats ; the second third addressed him familiarly ; the 
 others were " hail fellows well met." He had, therefore, on 
 his side all those whose function it is to dispense the blessings 
 of the land in the form of places, leases, concessions, and 
 such things, and who could not afford to neglect their own 
 friends. Oblonsky had no trouble in obtaining an excellent 
 place. His only aim was to avoid jealousies, quarrels, 
 offences, which was not a difficult thing because of his nat- 
 ural good temper. He would have thought it ridiculous if 
 lie had beeu told that he could not have any place that he 
 wanted, with the salary attached, because it did not seem to 
 him that he demanded any thing extraordinary. He only 
 asked for what his companions wen? obtaining, and he felt 
 that he was as capable as any of them of doing the work. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch was liked by every one, not only on 
 account of his good and amiable character and his unim- 
 peachable honesty, but for his brilliant and attractive person- 
 ality. There was something in his bright, sparkling, keen 
 eyes, his black brows, his hair, his vivid coloring, which 
 exercised a strong physical influence on those with whom he 
 came in contact. " Aha, Stiva ! Oblonsky ! Here he is ! " 
 people would say, with a smile of pleasure, when they saw 
 him ; and, though the results of meeting him were not par- 
 ticularly gratifying, nevertheless people were just as glad to 
 meet him the second day and the third. 
 
 After he had filled for three years the office of natchalnik, 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch had gained not only the friendship but 
 also the respect of his colleagues, both those above and those 
 below him in station, as well as of the citizens with whom 
 he had come in contact. The qualities which gained him this 
 universal esteem were, first, his extreme indulgence for every 
 one, which was founded on the knowledge of \vhat was lack- 
 ing in himself ; secondly, his absolute liberality, which was
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 21 
 
 not the liberalism for which his journal was responsible, but 
 that which flowed naturally in his veins, and caused him to 
 be agreeable to every one, in whatever station in life ; and 
 thirdly and principally, his perfect indifference to the busi- 
 ness which he transacted, so that he never lost his temper, 
 and therefore never made mistakes. 
 
 As soon as he reached his tribunal, he retired to his private 
 office, solemnly accompanied by the Swiss guard who bore 
 his portfolio, and, having put on his uniform, went to the 
 court-room. The employes all stood up as he passed, and 
 greeted him with respectful smiles. Stepan Arkadyevitch, 
 iu accordance with his usual custom, hastened to his place, 
 and after shaking hands with the other members of the 
 council, he sat down. He uttered a few familiar words, 
 full of good humor, and suitable to the occasion, and then 
 opened the session. No one better than he understood how 
 to preserve the official tone, and, at the same time, give his 
 words that impression of simplicity and good nature which 
 is so useful in the expedition of official business. The 
 secretary came up, and with the free and yet respectful air 
 common to all who surrounded Stepan Arkadyevitch. handed 
 him his papers, and spoke in the familiarly liberal tone which 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch had introduced. 
 
 tk We have at last succeeded in obtaining reports from the 
 Government of Penza. Permit me to hand them to you." 
 
 tk So we have them at last," said Stepau Arkadyevitch, 
 pushing the papers away with his linger. " Now, then, gen- 
 tlemen . . ." And the proceedings began. 
 
 " If they only knew," he thought, as he bent his head with 
 an air of importance while the report was read, " how much 
 their president, only a half-hour since, looked like a naughty 
 school-boy ! " and his eyes shone with merriment as he 
 listened to the report. The session generally lasted till two 
 o'clock without interruption, and w^s followed by recess and 
 luncheon. The hour had not yet struck, when the great glass 
 doors of the hall were thrown open, and some one entered. 
 All the members of the council, glad of any diversion, turned 
 round to look ; but the door-keeper instantly ejected the in- 
 truder, and shut the door upon him. 
 
 After the matter under consideration was settled, Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch arose, and in a spirit of sacrifice to the liberal- 
 ism of the time took out his cigarette, while still in the court- 
 room, and then passed into his private office. Two of his
 
 22 ANNA KARtiNIXA. 
 
 colleagues, the aged veteran Xikitin, and the hammer-junker 
 Grinevitch, followed him. 
 
 "There'll be time enough to finish after lunch," said 
 Oblonsky. 
 
 " I think so," replied Xikitin. 
 
 " This Famin must be a precious rascal," said Grinevitch, 
 alluding to one of the characters in the matter which they 
 had been investigating. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch knit his brows at Grinevitch's words, 
 as though to signify that it was not the right thing to form 
 snap-judgments, and he remained silent. 
 
 "Who was it came into the court-room?" he demanded 
 of the door-keeper. 
 
 " Some one who entered without permission, your Excel- 
 lency, while my back was turned. He wanted to see you : I 
 said, ' When the session is over, then ' " 
 
 Where is he?" 
 
 " Probably in the vestibule : he was there a moment ago. 
 Ah! here he is," said the door-keeper, pointing to a fair- 
 complexioned, broad-shouldered man with curly hair, who, 
 neglecting to remove his sheep-skin shapka, was lightly and 
 quu-kl}' running up the well-worn steps of the stone stair- 
 case. An employe, on his way down, with portfolio under 
 his arm, stopped to look, with some indignation, at the feet 
 of the young man, and turned to Oblonsky with a glance of 
 inquiry. Stepan Arkadyevitch stood at the top of the stair- 
 case : his bright face, set off by the broad collar of his uni- 
 form, was still more radiant when he recognized the visitor. 
 
 " Here he is at last," he cried with a friendly though 
 slightly ironical smile, as he looked at Levin. " What! you 
 got tired of waiting for me, and have come to find me in this 
 den? " he said, not satisfied with pressing his friend's hand, 
 but kissing him. affectionately. " When did 3-011 arrive? " 
 
 " I just got here, and was very anxious to see you," said 
 Levin timidly, as he looked about him with distrust and 
 scorn. 
 
 "All right! Come into my office," said Stepau Arkad- 
 3'evitch, who was aware of the egotistic sensitiveness of his 
 visitor ; and, as though he wanted to avoid some danger, he 
 took him by the hand to show him the way. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch addressed almost all his acquaint- 
 ances with the familiar "tui" ("thou"), old men of 
 threescore, young men of twenty, actors and ministers, mer-
 
 ANNA KABtiNINA. 23 
 
 chants and generals, all with whom he had ever drunken 
 champagne and with whom had he not drunken champagne? 
 Among the people thus brought into his intimacy in the two 
 extremes of the social scale, there would have been some 
 astonishment to know that, thanks to him, there was some- 
 thing in common among them. But when in presence of his 
 inferiors, he came in contact with any of his shameful inti- 
 mates, as he jestingly called some of his acquaintances, he 
 had the tact to save them from disagreeable impressions. 
 Levin was not one of his shameful intimates. He was a 
 friend of his boyhood ; but Oblonsky felt that it might be 
 unpleasant to make a public exhibition of their intimacy, 
 and therefore he hastened to withdraw with him. Levin was 
 about the same age as Oblonsky, and their intimacy arose 
 not only from champagne, but because, in spite of the differ- 
 ence in their characters and their tastes, they were fond of 
 each other in the way of friends who had grown up together. 
 But. as often happens among men who move in different 
 spheres, each allowed his reason to approve of the character 
 of the other, while each at heart really despised the other, 
 and believed his own mode of life to be the only rational way 
 of living. At the sight of Levin, Oblonsky could not repress 
 an ironical smile. How many times had he seen him in Mos- 
 cow just in from the country, where he had been doing some- 
 thing great, though Oblonsky did not know exactly what, 
 and scarcely took any interest in it. Levin always came to 
 Moscow anxious, hurried, a trifle vexed, and vexed because 
 he was vexed, and generally bringing with him new and un- 
 expected ideas about life and things. Stepan Arkadyevitch 
 laughed at this and yet liked it. Levin for his part despised 
 the life which his friend led in Moscow, treated his official 
 employment with light scorn, and made sport of him. But 
 Oblousky took this ridicule in good part, like a man sure of 
 being in the right ; while Levin, because he was not assured 
 in his own mind, sometimes got angry. 
 
 "We have been expecting you for some time," said Ste- 
 pan Arkadyevitch, as he entered his office, and let go his 
 friend's hand to show that the danger was past. " I am 
 very, very glad to see you," he continued. " How goes it? 
 how are you ? When did you come? " 
 
 Levin was silent, and looked at the unknown faces of 
 Oblonsky's two colleagues. The elegant Grinevitch was 
 completely absorbed in studying his white hands, and his fin-
 
 24 ANNA KATttiNINA. 
 
 gers with their long, yellow, and pointed nails, and his cuffs 
 with their huge, gleaming cuff-buttons. Oblousky noticed 
 what he was doing, and smiled. 
 
 " Ah, yes," said he, " allow me to make you acquainted : 
 mv colleagues, Filipp Ivanuitch Nikitin, Mikhail Stanisla- 
 vitch Grinevitch ; " then turning to Levin, " A landed pro- 
 prietor, a rising man, a member of the zemstvo, and a 
 gymnast who can lift five puds [two hundred pounds] with 
 one hand, a raiser of cattle, a celebrated hunter, and my 
 friend, Konstantin Dmitrievitch Levin, the brother of Sergei 
 Ivanuitch Koznuishef." 
 
 " Very happy," said the oldest of the company. " I have 
 the honor of knowing your brother, Sergei Ivanuitch," said 
 Grinevitch, extending his delicate hand. Levin's face grew 
 dark : he coldly shook hands, and turned to Oblonsky. Al- 
 though he had much respect for his half-brother, a writer 
 universally known in Russia, it was none the less unpleasant 
 for him to be addressed, not as Konstantin Levin, but as the 
 brother of the famous Koznuishef. 
 
 " No, I am not doing any thing any more. I have quar- 
 relled with everybody, and I don't go to the assemblies," 
 said he to Oblousky. 
 
 'This is a sudden change," said the latter with a smile. 
 "But how? why?" 
 
 " It is a long story, and I will tell it some other time," 
 replied Levin; but he nevertheless went on to say, "To 
 make a long story short, I am convinced that no action 
 amounts to any thing, or can amount to any thing, in our 
 provincial assemblies. On the one hand, they try to piny 
 Parliament, and I am not young enough and not old enough 
 to amuse myself with toys ; and, on the other hand," he 
 hesitated, " this serves the coterie of the district to make 
 a few pennies. There used to be guardianships, judgments ; 
 but now we have the zemstvo, not in the way of bribes, but 
 in the way of absorbing salaried offices." He said these 
 words with some heat and with the manner of a man who 
 expects to be contradicted. 
 
 " Aha ! here we find you in a new phase : you are becom- 
 ing a conservative," said Stepan Arkady eviteh. "Well, 
 we'll speak about this by and by." 
 
 ^ Yes, by and by. But I want to see you particularly," 
 said Levin, looking with scorn at Grinevitch 's hand. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled imperceptibly. " Didn't you
 
 ANNA KABfiNINA. 25 
 
 say that you would never again put on European clothes? " 
 he asked, examining the new suit made by a French tailor, 
 which his friend wore. "Indeed, I see: 'tis a new 
 phase." 
 
 Levin suddenly blushed, not as grown men blush without 
 perceiving it, but as timid and absurd boys blush ; and it 
 made him grow still redder. It gave his intelligent, manly 
 face such a strange appearance that Oblonsky ceased to look 
 at him. 
 
 " But where can we meet? I must have a talk with you," 
 said Levin. 
 
 Oblonsky reflected. " How is this? We will go and take 
 lunch at Gurin's, and we can talk there. At three o'clock 
 I shall be free." 
 
 " No," answered Levin after a moment's thought : " I've 
 got to take a drive." 
 
 "Well, then, let us dine together." 
 
 "Dine? But I have nothing very particular to say, only 
 two words, a short sentence : afterwards we can gossip." 
 
 "In that case, speak your two words now: we will talk 
 while we are dining." 
 
 "These two words are But, however, they are not 
 very important." His face assumed a hard expression, due 
 to his efforts to conquer his timidity. " What are the Shcher- 
 batskys doing? just as they used to? " 
 
 Stopan Arkadyevitch had long known that Levin was in 
 love witli his sister-in-law Kitty. He smiled, and his eyes 
 flashed gayly. " You have said your say in two words ; but 
 I cannot answer in two words, because excuse me a 
 moment." 
 
 The secretary came in at this juncture with his familiar 
 but respectful bearing, and with that modest assumption 
 peculiar to all secretaries that he knew more about business 
 than his superior. He brought some papers to Oblonsky ; 
 and under the form of a question, he attempted to explain 
 some difficulty. Without waiting to hear the end of the 
 explanation, Stepan Arkadyevitch laid his hand confiden- 
 tially on the secretary's arm. " No, do as I asked you to," 
 said he, tempering his remark with a smile ; and, having 
 briefly given his own explanation of the matter, he pushed 
 away the papers, and said, " Do it so, I beg of 3-011, Zakhar 
 Nikititch." The secretary went off confused. Levin during 
 this little interview had collected his thoughts ; and, standing
 
 20 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 behind a chair on which he rested his elbows, he listened 
 with ironical attention. 
 
 " I don't understand, I don't understand," he said. 
 
 " What is it that you don't understand? " asked Oblonsky, 
 smiling, and hunting for a cigarette. He was expecting 
 some sort of strange outbreak from Levin. 
 
 "I don't understand what you are up to," said Levin, 
 shrugging his shoulders. " How can you take this sort of 
 thing seriously?" 
 
 Why not?" 
 
 " Why, because, because it doesn't mean any thing." 
 
 "You think so? On the contrary, we have more work 
 than we can do." 
 
 " Business on paper ! Well, yes, you have a special gift 
 for such things," added Levin. . 
 
 ' You mean that I there is something that I lack? " 
 
 " Perhaps so, yes. However, I cannot help admiring 
 your high and mighty ways, and rejoicing that I have for a 
 friend a man of such importance. Meantime, you have not 
 answered my question," he added, making a desperate effort 
 to look Oblonsky full in the face. 
 
 " Well, then, very good, very good ! Keep it up, and you 
 will succeed. 'Tis well that you have three thousand desyatins 
 of land in the district of Karazinsk, such muscles, and the 
 complexion of a little girl of twelve ; but you will succeed 
 all the same. Yes, as to what you asked me. There is no 
 change, but I am sorry that it has been so long since you 
 were in town." 
 
 " Why?" demanded Levin. 
 
 "Because" replied Oblonsky; "but we will talk 
 things over by and b}-. What brought you now? " 
 
 " Ach! we will speak also of that by and by," said Levin, 
 blushing to his very ears. 
 
 "Very good. I understand you," said Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch. " Do 3'ou see? I should have invited you to dine 
 with me at home, but my wife is not well to-day. If you 
 want to see them, you will find them at the Zoological Gar- 
 dens from four to five. Kitty is off skating. Good-by now : 
 I will join you later, and we will go and get dinner together." 
 
 " Excellent. Au revoir! " 
 
 Levin left the room, and onby remembered when he had 
 passed the door that he had forgotten to salute Oblonsky 's 
 colleagues.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 27 
 
 " That must be a man of great energy," said Grinevitch, 
 after Levin had taken his departure. 
 
 " Yes, bdtiuslika " (papa), said IS tepan Arkady evitch, throw- 
 ing his head bade. '" He is a likely fellow. Three thousand 
 desyatins (8,100 acres) in the Karazinsk district! He has a 
 future before him, and how young he is ! He is not like the 
 rest of us." 
 
 tk What have you to complain about, Stepan Arkady e- 
 vitch?" 
 
 k% Yes, every thing goes wrong," replied Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch, drawing a deep sigh. 
 
 VI. 
 
 WHEN Oblonsky asked Levin what had brought him to 
 Moscow, Levin blushed, and he was angry because he 
 blushed; but how could he have replied, "I have come to 
 ask the hand of your sister-in-law"? Yet that was what 
 had brought him. 
 
 The Levin and Shcherbatsky families, belonging to the 
 old nobility of Moscow, had always been on friendly terms. 
 While Levin was studying at the university the intimacy had 
 grown closer, on account of his friendship with the young 
 Prince Shcherbatsky, the brother of Dolly and Kitty, who 
 w:is following the same course of stud}*. At that time 
 Levin was a frequent visitor at Shcherbatsky's house, and, 
 strange as it may seem, was in love with the whole family, 
 especially the feminine portion. Konstantin Levin had lost 
 his mother when he was a baby ; and as he had only a sister, 
 who was much older than he was, he found in the house of 
 the Shcherbatskys that charming life so peculiar to the old 
 nobilit}*, and of which the death of his parents had deprived 
 him. All the members of this family, but especially the 
 ladies, seemed to him to be surrounded with a mysterious 
 and poetic halo. Not only did he fail to discover any faults 
 in them, but he gave them credit for the loftiest sentiments 
 and the most ideal perfections. Why these three young 
 ladies were obliged to speak French and English every day ; 
 why they had, one after the other, to play for hours at a 
 time on the piano, the' sounds of which floated up to their 
 brother's room, where the young students were at work ; why 
 professors of French literature, of music, of dancing, of
 
 28 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 drawing, came to give them lessons ; why the three young 
 ladies, at a fixed hour in the day, accompanied by Mile. 
 Linon, were obliged to stop their carriage on the Tverskoi 
 Imnli'mrd, and, under the protection of a liveried valet 
 with a gilt cockade on his hat, walk up and down in their 
 satin shubkas, Dolly's very long. Natalie's of half length, 
 and Kitty's very short, showing her shapely ankles and red 
 stockings, all these things and many others were abso- 
 lutely incomprehensible to him. But he felt that all that 
 piissi-d in this mysterious sphere was perfect, and from the 
 mystery arose his love. 
 
 Even while he was a student he felt his first passion for 
 Dolly, the eldest ; she married Oblonsky : then he imagined 
 that he was in love with the second, for he felt it to be a 
 necessity to love one of the three. But Natali entered 
 society, and soon married the diplomat, Lvof. Kitty was 
 onl}' a child when Levin left the university. Shortly after 
 young Shcherbatsky joined the fleet, and was drowned in the 
 Baltic ; and Levin's relations with the familj* became more 
 distant, in spite of the friendship which attached him to 
 Oblonsky. At the beginning of the winter, however, after 
 a year's absence in the countiy, he had met the Shcherbat- 
 skys again, and learned for the first time which of the three 
 he was destined to love. 
 
 It seemed as if there could be nothing easier for a young 
 man of thirty-two, of good family, possessed of a handsome 
 fortune, and likely to be regarded as an eligible suitor, than 
 to ask the young Princess She herbatskaia in marriage, and 
 probably Levin would have been received with open arms. 
 But he was in love. Kitty in his eyes was a creature so ac- 
 complished, her superiority was so ideal, and he judged him- 
 self so severely, that he was unwilling to admit, even in 
 thought, that others or Kitty herself would allow him to 
 aspire to her hand. 
 
 Having spent two months in Moscow, ac in a dream, meet- 
 ing Kitty every day in society, which he allowed himself to 
 frequent on account of her, he suddenly took his departure 
 for the country, having concluded that this alliance was im- 
 possible. His decision was reached after reasoning that in 
 the eyes of her parents he had no position to offer that was 
 worthy of her, and that Kitty herself did not love him. His 
 comrades were colonels or staff-officers, distinguished profess- 
 ors, bank directors, railway officials, presidents of tribunals
 
 ANNA KAKfiNINA. 29 
 
 like Oblonsky, but he and he knew very well how he was 
 regarded by his friends was only a pomyeshchik, or country 
 proprietor, busy with his land, building farmhouses, and 
 hunting woodcock : in other words, he had taken the direction 
 of those who, in the eyes of society, have made a failure. 
 He was not full of illusions in regard to himself : he knew 
 that he was regarded as a good-for-nothing. And, moreover, 
 how could the charming and poetic Kitty love a man as ill- 
 favored and dull as he was? His former relations with her, 
 while he had been intimate with her brother, were those of a 
 grown man with a child, and seemed to him only an additional 
 obstacle. 
 
 It is possible, he thought, for a girl to love a stupid man 
 like himself ; but he must be good-looking, and show high 
 qualities, if he is to be loved with a love such as he felt for 
 Kitty. He had heard of women falling in love with ill- 
 favored, stupid men, but he did not believe that such would 
 be his own experience, just as he felt that it would be impos- 
 sible for him to love a woman who was not beautiful, brilliant, 
 and poetic. 
 
 But, having spent two months in the solitude of the coun- 
 try, he became convinced that the passion which consumed 
 him was not ephemeral, like his youthful enthusiasms, and 
 that he could not live without settling this mighty question 
 whether she would, or would not, be his wife. After all, 
 there was no absolute certainty that she would refuse him. 
 He therefore returned to Moscow with the firm intention of 
 marrying her if she would accept him. If not . . . he could 
 not think what would become of him. 
 
 VII. 
 
 COMING to Moscow by the morning train, Levin had 
 stopped at the house of his half-brother, Koznuishef . After 
 making his toilet, he went to the library with the intention 
 of making a clean breast of it, and asking his advice ; but 
 his brother was engaged. He was talking with a famous 
 professor of philosophy who had come up from Kharkof ex- 
 pressly to settle a vexed question that had arisen between 
 them on some scientific subject. The professor was waging 
 a bitter war on materialism, and Sergei Koznuishef followed 
 his argument with interest ; and, having read a recent article
 
 30 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 
 
 in which the professor promulgated his views, he raised 
 some objections. He blamed the professor for having made 
 too large concessions to the claims of materialism, and the 
 professor had come on purpose to explain what he meant. 
 The conversation turned on the question then fashionable : 
 Is there a dividing line between the psychical and the physi- 
 ological phenomena of man's action ? and where- is it to be 
 found ? 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch welcomed his brother with the same 
 coldlybenevolent smile which he bestowed on all, and, after 
 introducing him to the professor, continued the discussion. 
 The professor, a small man with spectacles, and narrow fore- 
 head, stopped long enough to return Levin's bow, and then 
 continued without noticing him further. Levin sat down till 
 the professor should go, and soon began to feel interested in 
 the discussion. He had read in the reviews articles on these 
 subjects, but he had read them with only that general inter- 
 est which a man who has studied the natural sciences at the 
 university is likely to take in their development ; but he had 
 never appreciated the connection that exists between these 
 learned questions of the origin of man, of reflex action, of 
 biology, of sociology : and those which touched on the pur- 
 pose of life and the meaning of death, more and more en- 
 gaged his attention as he grew older. 
 
 He noticed, as he took up the line of the arguments, that 
 his brother and the professor agreed to a certain kinship 
 between scientific and psychological questions. At times he 
 felt sure that they were going to take up this subject ; but 
 each time that they trended in that direction, they seemed 
 possessed with the desire to avoid it as much as possible, and 
 take refuge in the domain of subtile distinctions, explana- 
 tions, quotations, references to authorities, and he could 
 scarcely understand what they were talking about. 
 
 " I cannot accept the theory of Keis," said Sergei Ivano- 
 vitch in his elegant and correct manner of speech, " and I 
 cannot admit that my whole conception of the exterior 
 world is derived entirely from my sensations. The princi- 
 ple of all knowledge, the sentiment of being, of existence, 
 does not arise from the senses: there is no special organ by 
 which this conception is produced." 
 
 "Yes; but Wurst and Knaust and Pripasof will reply, 
 that you have gained the knowledge that you exist absolutely 
 and entirely from an accumulation of sensations ; in a word,
 
 ANNA KAK&NINA. 31 
 
 that it is only the result of sensations. "Wurst himself says 
 explicitly, that where sensation does not exist, there is no 
 consciousness of existence." 
 
 " I will say, on the other hand ..." replied Sergei Ivan- 
 ovitch. 
 
 But here Levin noticed that once more just as they were 
 about to touch the root of the whole matter, they started off 
 in a different direction, and he determined to put the follow- 
 ing question to the professor: "In this case, suppose my 
 sensations ceased, if my body were dead, would further 
 existence be possible?" 
 
 The professor, angry at this interruption, looking at the 
 strange questioner as though he took him for a clown (bur- 
 lak) rather than a philosopher, turned his eyes to Sergei 
 Ivanovitch as if to ask, " What does this mean? " But Ser- 
 gei, who was not quite so narrow-minded as the professor, and 
 was able to see the simple and rational point of the question, 
 answered with a smile, "We have not yet gained the right 
 to answer that question." . . . 
 
 " Our capacities are not sufficient," continued the pro- 
 fessor, taking up the thread of his argument. " No, I insist 
 upon this, as Pripasof says plainly that sensations are based 
 upon impressions, and that we cannot too closely distinguish 
 between the two notions." 
 
 Levin did not listen any longer, and waited until the pro- 
 fessor took his departure. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 WHEN the professor was gone, Serg6i Ivanovitch turned 
 to his brother. " I am very glad to see you. Shall you 
 make a long stay? How are things on the estate? " 
 
 Levin knew that his brother took little interest in the affairs 
 of the estate, and only asked out of politeness ; and so he 
 refrained from giving more than a short report on the sale 
 of wheat, and the money which he had received. It had 
 been his intention to speak with his brother about his 
 marriage project, and to ask his advice ; but after the con- 
 versation with the professor, and in consequence of the 
 involuntarily patronizing tone in which his brother had asked 
 about their affairs, he lost his inclination to speak, and felt 
 that his brother would not look upon the matter as he should 
 wish him to.
 
 32 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 
 
 " How is it with the zemstvo ? " asked Sergei Ivanovitch, 
 who took a lively interest in these provincial assemblies, to 
 which he attributed great importance. 
 
 " Fact is, I don't know " 
 
 " What ! aren't you a member of the assembly? " 
 
 " No, I'm no longer a member: I don't go an}* more," 
 said Levin. 
 
 " It's too bad," murmured Sergei Ivanovitch, wrinkling 
 his brows. 
 
 In order to defend himself, Levin described what had 
 taken place at the meetings of his district assembly. 
 
 " But it is forever thus," interrupted Sergei Ivanovitch. 
 " We Russians are always like this. Possibly it is one of 
 the good traits of our character that we are willing to con- 
 fess our faults, but we exaggerate them : we take delight in 
 irony, which comes natural to our language. If the rights 
 which we have, if our provincial institutions, were given to 
 any other people in P^urope, Germans or English, I tell you, 
 they would derive liberty from them ; but we only turn them 
 into sport." 
 
 "But what is to be done?" asked Levin with an air of 
 contrition. " It was my last attempt. I put my whole 
 heart into it : I could not do another thing. I was help- 
 less." 
 
 " Helpless ! " said Sergei Ivanovitch : " you did not look 
 at the matter in the right light." 
 
 " Perhaps not," replied Levin in a melancholy tone. 
 
 " Did you know that our brother Nikolai' has just been in 
 town? " 
 
 Nikolai was Konstantin Levin's own brother, and Sergei 
 Ivanovitch 's half-brother, standing between them in age. 
 He was a ruined man, who had wasted the larger part of his 
 fortune, and had quarrelled with his brothers on account of 
 the strange and disgraceful society which he frequented. 
 
 " What did you say?" cried Levin startled. " How did 
 you know? " 
 
 " Prokofi saw him on the street." 
 
 " Here in Moscow? Where is he? " and Levin stood up, 
 as though with the intention of instantly going to find him. 
 
 " I am sorry that I told you this," said Sergei Ivanovitch, 
 shaking his head when he saw his younger brother's emotion. 
 " I sent out to find where he was staying ; and I sent him his 
 letter of credit on Trubiu, the amount of which I paid. But
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 33 
 
 this is what he wrote me," and Sergei Tvanoviteh handed 
 his brother a note which he took from a letter-press. 
 
 Levin read the letter, which was written in the strange hand 
 which he knew so well: " I humbly beg to be left in peace. 
 It is all that I ask from my dear brothers. Nikolai Levin." 
 
 Konstantin, without lifting his head, stood motionless 
 before his brother with the letter in his hand. The desire 
 arose in his heart entirely to forget his unfortunate brother, 
 and at the same time he felt that it would be wrong. 
 
 "He evidently wants to insult me," continued Sergei 
 Ivauovitch ; ' but that is impossible. I wish with all my 
 soul to help him, and yet I know that I shall not succeed." 
 
 " Yes, yes," replied Levin. " I understand, and I appre- 
 ciate your treatment of him ; but I am going to him." 
 
 " Go by all means, if it will give }"ou any pleasure," said 
 Sergei Ivanovitch ; " but I would not advise it. Not because 
 I fear, that, as far as I am concerned, he might make a quar- 
 rel between us, but on your own account, I advise you not 
 to go. You can't do any thing. However, do as it seems 
 best to yon." 
 
 u Perhaps I can't do any thing, but I feel especially . . . 
 at this moment ... I feel that I could not be con- 
 tented. ..." 
 
 " I don't understand you," said Sergei Ivanovitch ; " but 
 one thing I do understand," he added. " and that is, that this 
 is a lesson in humility for us. Since our brother Nikolai has 
 become the man he is, I look with greater indulgence on what 
 people call ' abjectness.' Do you know what he has done? " 
 
 " Ach ! it is terrible, terrible," replied Levin. 
 
 Having obtained from his brother's servant, Nikolai's 
 address, Levin set out to find him, but on second thought 
 changed his mind, and postponed his visit till evening. 
 Before all, he must decide the question that had brought him 
 to Moscow, in order that his mind might be free. He there- 
 fore went directly to find Oblonsky ; and, having learned 
 where he could find the Shcherbatskys, he went where he was 
 told that he would meet Kitty. 
 
 ABOUT four o'clock Levin left his izvoshcliik (driver) at 
 the entrance of the Zoological Garden, and with beating heart 
 followed the path that led to the ice-mountains, near the
 
 34 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 place where there was skating, for he knew that he should 
 find Kitty there, having seen the Shcherbatskys' carriage at 
 the gate. It was a beautiful frosty day. At the entrance 
 of the garden there were crowds of carriages, sleighs, hired 
 drivers, policemen. Hosts of fashionable people, gayly glan- 
 cing in the bright sunlight, were gathered at the entrance 
 and on the paths cleared of snow, between the Russian 
 izbas with their carved woodwork. The ancient birch- 
 trees, their branches laden with snow and icicles, seemed 
 clothed in new and solemn chasubles. 
 
 As Levin followed the foot-path, he said to himself, "Be 
 calm ! there is no reason for being agitated ! What do you 
 desire? what ails you? Be quiet, you fool!" Thus Levin 
 addressed his heart. But the more he endeavored to calm 
 his agitation, the more he was overcome by it till at last he 
 could hardly breathe. An acquaintance spoke to him as he 
 passed, but Levin did not even notice who it was. He drew 
 near the ice-mountains. The sledges flashed down the 
 inclines, and were drawn up again by ropes. There was a 
 gay rush of creaking salazkas (sleds), and the confusion of 
 happy voices. At a little distance there was skating, and 
 among the skaters he soon discovered her. He knew that 
 he was near her from the joy and terror that seized his heart. 
 She was standing on the opposite side, engaged in conversa- 
 tion with a lady ; and neither by her toilet nor by her posi- 
 tion was she remarkable among the throng that surrounded 
 her, but for Levin she stood out from the rest like a rose 
 among nettles. Her presence brightened all around her. 
 Her smile filled the place with glory. " Am I brave enough 
 to go and meet her on the ice?" he thought. The place 
 where she was seemed like a sanctuary, which he did not dare 
 to approach, and he was so distrustful of himself that lie 
 almost turned to go away again. Mastering himself by a 
 supreme effort, he brought himself to think that, as she was 
 surrounded by people of every sort, he had as much right as 
 the rest to watch her skate. He therefore went down upon 
 the ice, looking away from her as though she were the sun ; 
 but he saw her, as he saw the sun, though he did not look at 
 her. 
 
 This day the ice formed a common meeting-ground for 
 people in society. There were also masters in the art of 
 skating, who came to show off their talents ; others were 
 learning to skate by holding on chairs, and making awkward
 
 ANNA KAENINA. 35 
 
 and distressing gestures ; there were young lads and old peo- 
 ple who skated as a matter of health : all seemed to Levin 
 to be the favorites of heaven, because they were near 
 Kitty. 
 
 And these skaters all glided around her, came close to her, 
 even spoke to her, and nevertheless seemed to enjoy them- 
 selves, as though they were absolutely fancy-free, and as 
 though it was enough for them that the ice was good and the 
 weather splendid. 
 
 Nikolai Shcherbatsk}', Kitty's cousin, in jacket and knick- 
 erbockers, was seated on a bench with his skates on, when 
 he saw Levin. 
 
 " Ah ! " he cried, " the best skater in Russia : there he is ! 
 Have you been here long ? Put on your skates quick : the ice 
 is first-rate ! ' ' 
 
 " I have not my skates with me," replied Levin, surprised 
 that one could speak with such freedom before Kitty, and 
 not losing her out of his sight a single instant, although he 
 did not look at her. He felt that the sun was shining upon 
 him. She, evidently not quite at ease on her high skates, 
 glided towards him from the place where she had been stand- 
 ing, followed by a young man in Russian costume, who was 
 trying to get ahead of her, and making the desperate ges- 
 tures of an unskilful skater. Kitty herself did not skate with 
 much confidence. She had taken her hands out of the little 
 muff which hung around her neck by a ribbon, and was wav- 
 ing them wildly, ready to grasp the first object that came in 
 her way. She looked at Levin, whom she had just seen for 
 the first time, and smiled at her own timidity. As soon as 
 she had got a start, she struck out with her little foot, and 
 glided up to her cousin, Shcherbatsky, seized him by the arm, 
 and gave Levin a friendly welcome. Never in his imagina- 
 tion had she seemed so charming. 
 
 Whenever he thought of her, he could easily recall her 
 whole appearance, but especially her lovely blond head, set 
 so gracefully on her pretty shoulders, and her expression of 
 childlike frankness and goodness. The combination of child- 
 like grace and feminine beauty had a special charm which 
 Levin thoroughly appreciated. But what struck him like 
 something always new and unexpected, was her modest, calm, 
 sincere face, which, when she smiled, transported him to a 
 world of enchantment, where he felt at peace and at rest, 
 with thoughts like those of his childhood.
 
 3G ANNA 
 
 "When did yon come?" she asked, giving him her hand. 
 
 "Thank YOU," she added, MS he stooped to pick up her 
 handkerchief, which had dropped out of her muff. 
 
 " I ? Oh ! a little while ago yesterday that is, to-day," 
 answered Levin, so disturbed that he did not know what he 
 was saying. "I wanted to call upon you," said he; and 
 when he remembered what his errand was, he blushed, and 
 was more distressed than ever. " I did not know that you 
 skated, and so well." 
 
 She looked at him closely, as though to divine the reason 
 of his embarrassment. " Your praise is precious. A tradi- 
 tion of your skill as a skater is still floating about," said she, 
 brushing off with her daintily gloved hand the pine-needles 
 that had fallen on her muff. 
 
 "Yes: I used to be passionately fond of skating. I had 
 the ambition to reach perfection." 
 
 " Seems to me that you do all things with all your heart," 
 said she with a smile. " I should like to see you skate. Put 
 on your skates, and we will skate together." 
 
 " Skate together ! " he thought, as he looked at her. " Is 
 it possible?" 
 
 " I will go and put them right on," he said ; and he has- 
 tened to find a pair of skates. 
 
 "It is a long time, sir, since you have been with us," 
 said the katalshchik (the man who rents skates), as he lifted 
 his foot to n't on the skate. " Since your day, we have not 
 had any one who deserved to be called a master in the art. 
 Are they going to suit you?" he asked, as he tightened the 
 strap. 
 
 "It's all right; only make haste," said Levin, unable to 
 hide the smile of joy, which, in spite of him, irradiated his 
 face. " Yes," thought he, " this is life, this is happiness. 
 ' We will skate together,' she said. Shall I speak now? But 
 I am afraid to speak, because I am happy, happy with hope. 
 But when ? But it must be, it must, it must. Down with 
 weakness ! " 
 
 Levin arose, took off his cloak, and, after trying his skates 
 in the little house, he struck out across the glare ice ; and 
 without effort, allowing his will to guide him, he directed his 
 course toward Kitty. He felt timid about coming up to her, 
 but a smile assured him. She gave him her hand, and they 
 skated side by side, gradually increasing speed ; and the 
 faster they went, the closer she held his hand.
 
 ANNA KAEtiNlNA. 37 
 
 " I should learn very quickly with you," she said. " I 
 somehow feel confidence in you." 
 
 "I am confident in myself when you lean on my arm," 
 he answered, and immediately he was startled at what he had 
 said, and blushed. In fact, he had scarcely uttered the words, 
 when, just as the sun goes under a cloud, her face lost all its 
 kindliness, and Levin saw on her smooth brow a wrinkle that 
 indicated what her thought was. 
 
 " Has any thing disagreeable happened to you ? but I have 
 no right to ask," he added quickly. 
 
 "Why so? No, nothing disagreeable has happened to 
 me," she said coolly, and immediately continued, "Have 
 you seen Mile. Linou yet?" 
 
 " Not yet." 
 
 " Go to see her : she is so fond of you." 
 
 "What does this mean? I have offended her! O God! 
 have pity upon me ! " thought Levin, and skated swiftly to- 
 wards the old French governess, with little gray curls, who 
 was watching them from a bench. She received him like an 
 old friend, smiling, and showing her false teeth. 
 
 "Yes, but how we have grown up," she said, turning her 
 eyes to Kitty ; " and how demure we are ! Tiny bear has 
 grown large," continued the old governess, still smiling ; and 
 she recalled his jest about the three young ladies whom he 
 had named after the three bears in the English story. . . . 
 " Do you remember that you called them so?" 
 
 He had entirely forgotten it, but she had laughed at this 
 pleasantry for ten years, and still enjoyed it. " Now go, go 
 and skate. Doesn't our Kitty take to it beautifully? " 
 
 When Levin rejoined Kitty, her face was no longer severe ; 
 her eyes had regained their fresh and kindly expression : but 
 it seemed to him that in her very kindliness, there was some- 
 thing that was not exactly natural, and he felt troubled. 
 After speaking of the old governess and her eccentricities, 
 she asked him about his own life. " Don't }~ou get tired of 
 living in the country?" she asked. 
 
 " No, I don't get tired of it, I am very busy," he replied, 
 feeling that she was bringing him into the atmosphere of in- 
 difference, which she had resolved henceforth to throw about 
 her, and which he could not escape now, any more than he 
 could at the beginning of the winter. 
 
 " Shall you stay long? " asked Kitty. 
 
 " I do not know," he answered, without regard to what he
 
 38 ANNA KAKNINA. 
 
 was saying. The idea of falling back into the tone of calm 
 friendship, and perhaps of returning home without reaching 
 any decision, was revolting to him. 
 
 " Why don't you know:' " 
 
 " I don't know why. It depends on you," he said, and 
 instantly he was horrified at his own words. 
 
 She either did not understand his words, or did not want 
 to understand them, but, seeming to stumble once or twice, 
 she made an excuse to leave him ; and, having spoken to 
 Mile. Linon, she went to the little house, where her skates 
 were removed by the waiting-women. 
 
 "Good heavens! what have I done? O God ! have pity 
 upon me. and come to my aid ! " was Levin's secret prayer ; 
 and feeling the need of taking some violent exercise, he 
 began to describe a series of intricate curves on the ice. 
 
 At this Instant a young man, the best among the recent 
 skaters, came out of the cafe with his skates on, and a cigar- 
 ette in his mouth : without stopping he ran towards the stair- 
 way, and without even changing the position of his arms ran 
 down the steps and darted out upon the ice. 
 
 "That is a new trick," said Levin to himself, and he 
 climbed the staircase to imitate it. 
 
 "Don't you kill yourself! it needs practice," shouted 
 Nikolai Shcherbatsky. 
 
 Levin went up the steps, got as good a start as he could, 
 and then flew down the stairway, preserving his balance with 
 his hands ; but at the last step, he stumbled, made a violent 
 effort to recover himself, regained his equilibrium, and glided 
 out gaily upon the ice. 
 
 "Charming, glorious fellow," thought Kitty, at this 
 moment coming out of the little house with Mile. Linon, 
 and looking at him with a gentle smile, as though he were a 
 beloved brother. " Is it my fault? Have I done any thing 
 very bad? People say, 'Coquetry.' I know that I don't 
 love him, but it is pleasant to be with him, and he is so 
 charming. But what made him say that? "... 
 
 Seeing Kitty departing with her mother, who had come for 
 her, Levin, flushed with his violent exercise, stopped and 
 pondered. Then he took off his skates, and joined the 
 mother and daughter at the gate. " Very glad to see you," 
 said the princess : "we receive on Thursdays, as usual." 
 
 "To-day, then?" 
 
 " We shall be delighted to see you," she answered dryly.
 
 ANNA KAJlfiNINA. 39 
 
 This haughtiness troubled Kitty, and she could not restrain 
 herself from tempering the effect of her mother's chilling 
 manner. She turned to Levin, and said with a smile, " We 
 shall see yon, I hope." 
 
 At this moment Stepan Arkactyevitch with hat on one side, 
 with animated face and bright eyes, entered the garden. At 
 the sight of his wife's mother, he assumed a melancholy and 
 humiliated expression, and replied to the questions which she 
 asked about Dolly's health. When he had finished speaking 
 in a low and broken voice with his mother-in-law, he straight- 
 ened himself up, and took Levin's arm. 
 
 " Now, then, shall we go? I have been thinking of you 
 all the time, and I am very glad that you came," he said 
 with a significant look into his eyes. 
 
 "Come on, come on," replied the happy Levin, who did 
 not cease to hear the sound of a voice saying, " We shall see 
 you, I hope," or to recall the smile that accompanied the 
 words. 
 
 " At the English hotel, or at the Hermitage?" 
 
 "It's all one to me." 
 
 "At the English hotel, then," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, 
 who chose this restaurant because he owed more there than 
 at the Hermitage, and it seemed unworthy of him, so to 
 speak, to avoid it. "You have an izvoshchik? So much 
 the better, for I sent off m}' carriage." 
 
 While they were on the way, not a word was spoken. 
 Levin was thinking of how Kitty's face had changed, and 
 he passed through alternations of hope and despair, all the 
 time saying that there was no sense in despairing. Never- 
 theless he felt that he was another man since he had heard 
 those words, " We shall see you, I hope," and seen that re- 
 assuring smile. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch made out the menu. 
 
 "You like turbot, don't you?" were his first words on 
 entering the restaurant. 
 
 " What?" exclaimed Levin. . . . "Turbot? Yes, I ana 
 excessively fond of turbot." 
 
 X. 
 
 LEVIN could not help noticing, as they entered the restau- 
 rant, how Stepan Arkadyevitch's face and whole person 
 seemed to shine with restrained happiness. Oblonsky took
 
 40 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 off his ovorooat, nncl, with hat on one side, marched towards 
 the dining-room, giving, as lie went, his orders to the Tartar, 
 who in swallow-tail, and with his napkin under his arm, came 
 to meet him. Bowing to right and left to his acquaintances, 
 who as usual seemed delighted to see him, he went directly 
 to the bar and took a gmall glass of vodka (brandy). The 
 bar-maid, a pretty French girl with curly hair, who was 
 painted, and covered with ribbons and lace, listened to his 
 merry jest, and burst into a peal of laughter. As for Levin, 
 the sight of this French creature, all made up of false hair, 
 rice-powder, and vinaigre de toilette, as he said, took away 
 his appetite. He turned away from her quickly, with dis- 
 gust, as from some horrid place. His heart was filled with 
 memories of Kitty, and in his eyes shone triumph and happi- 
 ness. 
 
 " This way, your excellency ; come this way, and you will 
 not be disturbed," said the old obsequious Tartar, whose 
 monstrous waist made the tails of his coat stick out behind. 
 " Will you come this way, your excellency ?" said he to Levin, 
 as a sign of respect for Stepan Arkadyevitch, whose guest 
 he was. In a twinkling he had spread a fresh cloth on the 
 round table, which, already covered, stood under the bronze 
 chandelier ; then, bringing two velvet chairs, he stood wait- 
 ing for Stepan Arkadyevitch's orders, holding in one hand 
 his napkin, and his order-card in the other. 
 
 " If your excellency would like to have a private room, 
 one will be at your service in a few moments Prince Ga- 
 luitsin and a lady. We have just received fresh oysters." 
 
 " Ah, o}"sters ! " 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch reflected. " Supposing we change 
 our plan, Levin," said he with his finger on the bill of fare. 
 His face showed serious hesitation. 
 
 " But are they good? Pay attention ! " 
 
 "They are from Flensburg, your excellency: there are 
 none from Ostend." 
 
 " Fleusburg oysters are well enough, but are they fresh? " 
 
 "They came yesterday." 
 
 " Very good ! What do you say? to begin with oysters, 
 and then to make a complete change in our menu? What 
 say you ? ' ' 
 
 " It makes no difference to me. I'd like best of all some 
 shchi (cabbage soup) and kasha (wheat gruel), but you can't 
 get them here."
 
 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 41 
 
 " Kasha el la russe, if you would like to order it," said the 
 Tartar, bending over towards Levin as a nurse bends towards 
 a child. 
 
 " No. Jesting aside, whatever you wish is good. I have 
 been skating and am almost famished. Don't imagine," 
 he added as he saw an expressioju of disappointment on 
 Oblonsky's face, " that I do not appreciate your menu. I 
 can eat a good dinner with pleasure." 
 
 " Jt should be more than that ! You should say that it is 
 one of the pleasures of life," said Stepau Arkadyevitch. 
 "In this case, little brother mine, give us two, or no, 
 that's not enough ; three dozen oysters, vegetable soup " 
 
 " Printaniere," suggested the Tartar. 
 
 But Stepan Arkadyevitch did not allow him the pleasure 
 of enumerating the dishes in French, and continued, "Vege- 
 table soup, you understand ; then turbot, with a sauce not 
 too thick ; then roast beef, but see to it that it be done to a 
 turn. Yes, some capon, and lastly, some preserve." 
 
 The Tartar, remembering that Stepan Arkadyevitch did not 
 like to call the dishes by their French names, waited till lie 
 had finished ; then he gave himself the pleasure of repeating 
 the bill of fare according to the rule : " Potage printaniere, 
 turbot, sauce Beaumarchais, poularde a I'estragon, macedoine 
 de fruits." Then instantly, as though moved by a spring, 
 he substituted for the bill of fare the wine-list, which he 
 presented to Stepan Arkadyevitch. 
 
 " What shall we drink? " 
 
 " Whatever you please, only let it be champagne," said 
 Levin. 
 
 " What ! at the very beginning? But after all, why not? 
 Do you like the white seal ? ' ' 
 
 " Cachet blanc," repeated the Tartar. 
 
 " Good with oysters : that will go well. Now. as we have 
 settled on this brand for the oysters, bring that." 
 
 "It shall be done, sir. And what vin de table shall I 
 bring you? " 
 
 " Some Nuits; no, hold on, give us some classic chnblis." 
 
 "It shall be done, sir; and shall I give you some of 
 your cheese? " 
 
 " Yes, some parmesan. Or do you prefer some otlit 
 kind?" 
 
 "No, it's all the same to me," replied Levin, who could 
 not keep from smiling. The Tartar disappeared on the trot,
 
 42 ANNA KAKNINA. 
 
 with his coat-tails flying out behind him. Five minutes later 
 he came with a platter of oysters and a bottle. Stepan Ar- 
 kadyevitch crumpled up his napkin, tucked it in his waist- 
 coat, calmly stretched out his hands, and began to attack 
 the oysters. "Not bad at all," he said, as he lifted the 
 succulent oysters from their shells with a silver fork, and 
 swallowed them one by one. " Not at all bad," he repeated, 
 looking from Levin to the Tartar, his eyes gleaming with sat- 
 isfaction. Levin ate his oysters, although he would have 
 preferred bread and cheese ; but he could not help admiring 
 Oblousky. Even the Tartar, after uncorking the bottle, and 
 pouring the sparkling wine into delicate glass cups, looked 
 at Stepan Arkadyevitch with a contented smile while he 
 adjusted his white neck-tie. " You aren't very fond of 
 oysters, are you?" asked Oblonsky, draining his glass. 
 "Or 3~ou are pro-occupied? Hey?" He was anxious to 
 get Levin into good spirits ; but the latter was anxious, if he 
 was not downcast. His heart being so full, he found him- 
 self out of his element in this restaurant, amid the confu- 
 sion of guests coming and going, surrounded by the private 
 rooms where men and women were dining together : every 
 thing was repugnant to his feelings, the gas, the mirrors, 
 even the Tartar. He feared that the sentiment that occupied 
 his soul would be defiled. 
 
 "I? Yes, I am a little absent-minded; but besides, 
 everything here confuses me. Yon can't imagine," he said, 
 " how strange all these surroundings seem to a countryman 
 like myself. It's like the finger-nails of that gentleman 
 whom I met at your office." 
 
 " Yes, I noticed that poor Grinevitch's finger-nails inter- 
 ested you greatly," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, laughing. 
 
 "I cannot," replied Levin. "You are a puzzle to me. 
 I cannot get you into the focus of a man accustomed to liv- 
 ing in the country. The rest of us try to have hands to 
 work with ; therefore, we cut off our finger-nails, and often- 
 times we even turn back our sleeves. Here, on the other 
 hand, men let their nails grow as long as possible, and so as 
 to be sure of not being able to do any work, they fasten 
 their sleeves with plates for buttons." 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled gayly. " That proves that 
 there is no need of manual labor: it is brain- work." 
 
 "Perhaps so. Yet it seems strange to me, no less than 
 thisthat we are doing here. In the country we make haste
 
 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 43 
 
 to get through our meals so as to be at work again ; but 
 here you and I are doing our best to eat as long as possible 
 without getting satisfied, and so we are eating oysters." 
 
 " Well, there's something in that," replied Stepan Arkad- 
 yevitch ; "but isn't it the aim of civilization to translate 
 every thing into enjoyment? " 
 
 " If that is the aim of civilization, I prefer to remain a 
 barbarian." 
 
 "And you are a barbarian! Come, now, you are all 
 savages in your family." 
 
 Levin sighed. He thought of his brother Nikolai', and 
 felt mortified and saddened, and his face grew dark ; but 
 Oblonsky introduced a subject which had the immediate 
 effect of diverting him. 
 
 " Very well, come this evening to our house. I mean to 
 the Shcherbatskys'," said he, winking gayly, and pushing 
 away the oyster-shells, so as to make room for his cheese. 
 
 " Certainly," replied Levin ; " though it did not seem that 
 the princess was very cordial in her invitation." 
 
 " What an idea ! It was only her grande dame manner," 
 replied Stepan Arkady evitch. " I shall come there immedi- 
 ately after a musicale at the Countess Boniua's. How 
 can we help calling you a savage? How can you explain 
 your flight from Moscow? The Shcherbatskys have more 
 than once besieged me with questions on your account, as if 
 I were likely to know any thing about it. I only know this, 
 that you are always likely to do things that no one would 
 expect you to do." 
 
 "Yes," replied Levin slowly, and with emotion: "you 
 are right, lama savage ; but it was not my departure, but 
 my return, that proves me one. I have come now " 
 
 "Are you happy?" interrupted Oblousky, looking into 
 Levin's eyes. 
 
 "Why'?" 
 
 "I know fiery horses by their brand, and I know young 
 people who are in love by their eyes," said Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch dramatically : " the future is yours." 
 
 " And yourself, have you a future before 3~ou also? " 
 
 " I have only the present, and this present is not all 
 roses." 
 
 "What is the matter? " 
 
 "Nothing good. But I don't want to talk about myself, 
 especially as I cannot explain the circumstances," replied
 
 44 ANNA KAKtiNINA. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch. " What did you come to Moscow 
 for? Here ! clear off the things ! " he cried to the Tartar. 
 
 "Can't you imagine?" answered Levin, not taking his 
 eyes from his friend's face. 
 
 " I can imagine, but it is not for me to be the first to 
 speak about it. By this detail you can tell whether I am 
 right in my conjecture," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, looking 
 at Levin with a cunning smile. 
 
 " Well, what have you to tell me?" asked Levin with a 
 trembling voice, and feeling the muscles of his face quiver. 
 " How do you look upon the affair? " 
 
 Stepau Arkadyevitch slowly drank his glass of chdblis 
 while he looked steadily at Levin. 
 
 " I? " said Stepan Arkadyevitch. " I would say nothing 
 but this one word nothing." 
 
 "But aren't you mistaken? Do you know what we are 
 talking about?" murmured Levin, with his gaze fixed fever- 
 ishly on his companion. " Do you believe that what you say 
 is possible ? ' ' 
 
 "Why shouldn't it be ?" 
 
 " No, do you really think that it is possible? No ! tell me 
 what you really think. If if she should refuse me, and I 
 am almost certain that " 
 
 "Why should you be?" asked Stepan Arkadyevitch, 
 smiling at this emotion. 
 
 " It is my intuition. It would be terrible for me and for 
 her." 
 
 " Oh ! in any case. I can't see that it would be very terrible 
 for her : a young girl is always flattered to be asked in 
 marriage." 
 
 " Young girls in general, perhaps, but not she." 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled ; he perfectly understood 
 Levin's feelings, and knew that for him all the young girls 
 in the universe could be divided into two categories : in the 
 one, all the young girls in existence, participating in all the 
 faults common to humanity, in other words, ordinary girls ; 
 in the other, she alone, without the least imperfection, and 
 placed above the rest of humanity. 
 
 " Hold on ! take a little sauce," said he, stopping Levin's 
 hand, who was pushing away the sauce-dish. 
 
 Levin took the sauce in all humility, but he did not give 
 Oblonsky time to eat. " No, just wait, wait," said he : " I 
 want you to understand me perfectly, for with me it is a
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 45 
 
 question of life and death. I have never spoken to any one 
 else about it, and I cannot speak to any one else but you. 
 I know we are very different from one another, have differ- 
 ent tastes, and conflicting views ; but I know also that 3-011 
 love me, and that you understand me, and that's the reason 
 I am so fond of you. In the name of Heaven be sincere with 
 me!" 
 
 " I will tell yon what I think," said Stepan Arkadyevitch 
 smiling. " But I will tell yon more : my wife a most ex- 
 traordinary woman " and Stepan Arkadyevitch stopped a 
 moment to sigh, as he remembered how his relations with his 
 wife were strained "she has a gift of second sight, and 
 sees all that goes on in the hearts of others, but she is a 
 prophetess when there is a question of marriage. Thus, she 
 predicted that Brenteln would marry the Princess Shakhov- 
 ska'ia : no one would believe it, and yet it came to pass. 
 Well, my wife is on your side." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean that she likes you, and she says that Kitty will 
 be your wife." 
 
 As he heard these words, Levin's face lighted up with a 
 smile that was almost ready to melt into tears. " She said 
 that ! " he cried. " I always thought that your wife was au 
 angel. But enough, enough of this sort of talk," he added, 
 and rose from the table. 
 
 " Good ! but sit a little while longer." 
 
 But Levin could not sit down. He walked two or three 
 times up and down the room, winking his eyes to hide the 
 tears, and then he came back to the table somewhat calmer. 
 " Understand me," he said : " this is not love. I have been 
 in love, but it was not like this. This is more than a senti- 
 ment : it is an inward power that controls me. I left Moscow 
 because I had made up my mind that such happiness could 
 not exist, that such good fortune could not be on earth. 
 But I struggled in vain against myself: I find that my whole 
 life is here. This question must be decided/' 
 
 " But why did you leave Moscow? " 
 
 ''Ach! stay! Ach! only think! only listen to me! If 
 you only knew what your words meant to me ! You cannot 
 imagine how you have encouraged me. I am so happy that 
 I am becoming selfish, and forgetting every thiug ; and yet 
 this very day I heard that my brother Nikolai" -you know 
 him is here, and I had entirely forgotten him. It seems to
 
 46 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 
 
 me that he, too, ought to be happy. But this is like a fit of 
 madness. But one thing seems terrible to me. You who 
 are married ought to know this sensation. It is terrible that 
 we who are already getting old dare not approach a pure and 
 innocent being. Isn't it terrible? and is it strange that I 
 find that I am unworthy? " 
 
 " Nu! you have not much to reproach yourself with." 
 
 "Ach!" said Levin; '* and yet, as I look with disgust 
 upon my life, I tremble and curse and mourn bitterly 
 da!" 
 
 " But what can you do? the world is thus constituted," 
 said Stepan Arkady evitch. 
 
 "There is only one consolation, and that is in the prayer 
 that I have always loved : ' Pardon me not according to my 
 deserts, but according to Thy loving-kindness.' Thus only 
 can she forgive me." 
 
 XI. 
 
 LEVIN emptied his glass, and for a few minutes the two 
 friends were silent. "I ought to tell you one thing, 
 though. Do you know Vronsky ? " asked Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch. 
 
 " No : why do you ask ? " 
 
 " Bring us another bottle," said Oblonsky to the Tartar, 
 who was refilling their glasses. ' k You must know that 
 Vronsky is a rival of yours." 
 
 14 Who is this Vronsky?" asked Levin, whose face, a 
 moment since beaming with youthful enthusiasm, suddenly 
 grew dark. 
 
 "Vronsky he is one of Count Kirill Ivanovitch Vron- 
 sky 's sons, and one of the finest examples of the gilded 
 youth of Petersburg. I used to know him at Tver when I 
 was on duty : he came there for recruiting service. He is 
 immensely rich, handsome, with excellent connections, an 
 adjutant attached to the emperor's person, and, in spite of 
 all, a capital good fellow. From what I have seen of him, 
 he is more than a ' good fellow ; ' he is well educated and 
 bright ; he is a rising man." 
 
 Levin scowled, and said nothing. 
 
 " Nu-sl he put in an appearance soon after you left ; and, 
 if people -tell the truth, he fell in love with Kitty. You 
 understand that her mother "
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 47 
 
 "Excuse me, but I don't understand at all," interrupted 
 Levin, scowling still more fiercely. He suddenly remem- 
 bered his brother Nikolai, and how ugly it was in him to 
 forget him. 
 
 "Just wait," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, laying his hand 
 on Levin's arm with a smile. " I have told you all that I 
 know ; but I repeat, that, in my humble opinion, the chances 
 in this delicate affair are in }'our favor." 
 
 Levin grew pale, and leaned on the back of the 
 chair. 
 
 " But I advise you to settle the matter as quickly as pos- 
 sible," suggested Oblonsky, handing him a glass. 
 
 " Xo, thank 3-011 : I cannot drink any more," said Levin, 
 pushing away the glass. "It will go to my head. Nu! 
 how are you feeling?" he added, desiring to change the 
 conversation. 
 
 " One word more : in any case I advise you to act quickly. 
 I advise you to speak immediately," said Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch. " Go to-morrow morning, make your proposal in 
 classic style, and God be with you." 
 
 "Why haven't you ever come to hunt with me as you 
 promised to do? Come this spring," said Levin. He now 
 repented with all his heart that he had entered upon this con- 
 versation with Oblonsky : his deepest feelings were wounded 
 by what he had just learned of the pretensions of his rival, 
 the young officer from Petersburg, as well as by the advice 
 and insinuations of Stepan Arkadyevitch. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch perceived his friend's thoughts, and 
 smiled. " I will come some day," he said. " Yes, brother, 
 woman ! She's the spring that moves every thing in this 
 world. My own trouble is bad, very bad. And all on 
 account of women. Give me your advice," said he, taking 
 a cigar, and still holding his glass in his hand: "tell me 
 frankly what you think." 
 
 "But what about?" 
 
 " Listen : suppose you were married, that you loved your 
 wife, but had been drawn away by another woman " 
 
 " Excuse me. I can't imagine an}- such thing. As it looks 
 to me, it would be as though, in coming out from dinner, I 
 should steal a loaf of bread from a bakeiy." 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch's eyes sparkled more than usual. 
 " Why not? Bread sometimes smells so good, that one can- 
 not resist the temptation :
 
 48 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 " Himmlisch isV s, wenn ich bezwunyen 
 
 Meine irdiache Beyier : 
 Aber dock wenns's nicht gelunyen, 
 Hdtt ich auch recht huebsch Plaisir." 1 
 
 As he repeated these lines, Oblonsky smiled. Levin could 
 not refrain from smiling also. " But a truce to pleasantries," 
 continued Oblousky. " Imagine a charming, modest, lovely 
 woman, poor, and alone in the world, who would sacrifice 
 herself for you : is it necessary to give her up, in case my 
 supposition were true? We'll allow that it is necessary to 
 break with her, so as not to disturb the peace of the family ; 
 but ought we not to have pity on her, to make the separation 
 less painful, to look out for her future? " 
 
 "Pardon me; but you know that for me, women are 
 divided into two classes, no, that is, there are women, and 
 there are But I never yet knew a case of a beautiful 
 repentant Magdalen ; and as to that French creature at the 
 bar, with her false curls, she fills me with disgust, and so do 
 all such." 
 
 " But woman in the New Testament? " 
 
 "Ach! hold your peace. Never would Christ have said 
 those words if he had known to what bad use they would be 
 put. Out of the whole gospel, only those words are taken. 
 However, I don't say what I think, but what I feel, nothing 
 more. I feel a disgust for fallen women just as you do for 
 criminals. You did not have to study the manners of the 
 criminal classes to bring about this feeling, nor I these." 
 
 "It is well for you to say so : it is a very convenient way 
 to do as the character in Dickens did, and throw all embar- 
 rassing questions over the right shoulder with the left hand. 
 But to deny a fact is not to answer it. Now tell me ! what 
 is to be done ? ' ' 
 
 " Don't steal fresh bread." 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch burst out laughing. " O moralist ! 
 but please appreciate the situation. Here are two women : 
 one insists on her rights, and her rights means your love 
 which you cannot give ; the other has made an absolute sac- 
 rifice, and demands nothing. What can one do? How can 
 one proceed? Here is a terrible drama ! " 
 
 1 It was heavenly when I gained 
 
 What my heart desired on earth: 
 Yet if all were not attained, 
 Still I had ray share of mirth.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 49 
 
 " If yon vrant me to confess what I think, I will tell you 
 that I don't believe in this drama, and tin's is why. In my 
 opinion, Love the two Loves which Plato describes in 
 his " Symposium," you remember, serve as the touch-stone 
 for men. The one class of people 'understands only one of 
 them : the other understands the other. Those who do not 
 comprehend Platonic affection have no right to speak of this 
 drama. In this sort of love there can be no drama. ' Much 
 obliyed to you for the pleasure you have given me;' and 
 therein consists the whole drama. But Platonic affection 
 cannot make a drama, because it is bright and pure, and 
 because " 
 
 At this moment Levin remembered his own short-comings 
 and the inward struggles which he had undergone, and he 
 added in an unexpected fashion, " However, you may be 
 right. It is quite possible I know nothing absolutely 
 nothing about it." 
 
 "Do 3-011 see," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, "you are a 
 man of perfect purity ? Your great virtue is your only fault. 
 And because your character is thus constituted, you desire 
 that all the factors of life should also be absolutely pure ; 
 and this can never be. So you scorn the service of the 
 state, because you see in it no service useful to society, and 
 because, according to your idea, every action should corre- 
 spond to an exact end ; and this can never be. You want 
 conjugal life and love to be one and the same, and that can- 
 not be. And besides, all the charm, the variety, the beauty 
 of life consists in these lights and shades." 
 
 Levin sighed, and did not answer: he did not even listen. 
 He was absorbed in the thought of what concerned himself. 
 And suddenly both of them felt that this dinner, which ought 
 to have brought them closer together, had widened the dis- 
 tance between them, though they were still good friends. 
 Each was thinking more of his own affairs, and was forget- 
 ting to feel interested in his friend's. Oblonsky understood 
 this phenomenon, having often experienced it after dining ; 
 and he also knew what his course of conduct would be. 
 
 " Give me the account," he cried, and went into the next 
 room, where he met an adjutant whom he knew, and with 
 whom he began to talk about an actress and her lover. This 
 conversation amused and rested Oblonsk}- after what had 
 been said with Levin, who always kept his mind on the 
 strain, and wearied him.
 
 50 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 When the Tartar had brought the account, amounting to 
 twenty-eight rubles and odd kopeks, not forgetting his fee, 
 Levin, who generally, in the honest country fashion, would 
 have been shocked at the size of the bill, paid the fourteen 
 rubles of his share without noticing, and went home to dress 
 for the reception at the Shcherbatskys', where his fate would 
 be decided. 
 
 XII. 
 
 THE Princess Kitty Shcherbatskaia was eighteen years old. 
 She was making her first appearance in society this winter, 
 and her triumphs had been more brilliant than her elder sis- 
 ters, than even her mother had anticipated. All the young 
 men in Moscow, who danced at balls, were more or less in 
 love with Kitty ; but, besides these, there were two who, 
 during this first winter of her debut, were serious aspirants 
 to her hand, Levin, and, sooii after his departure, Count 
 Vronsky. 
 
 Levin's frequent visits and his unconcealed love for Kitty 
 were the first subjects in regard to her future that gave cause 
 for serious conversation between her father and mother. 
 The prince and princess had livery discussions about it. The 
 prince was on Levin's side, and declared that he could not 
 desire a better match. The princess, with the skill which 
 women have for avoiding the question, insisted that Kitty 
 was very young ; that she did not show great partiality for 
 Levin ; and, moreover, that he did not seem to be serious 
 in his attentions. But she did not express what was in the 
 bottom of her heart, that she was ambitious for a more 
 brilliant marriage, that Levin did not appeal to her sympa- 
 thies, and that she did not understand him. And when 
 Levin took a sudden leave for the country she was delighted, 
 and said, with an air of triumph, to her husband, " You see, 
 I was right." When Vronsky appeared upon the scene, she 
 was still more delighted, and her hopes of seeing Kitty not 
 only well but brilliantly married, were more than confirmed. 
 
 For the princess there was no comparison between the two 
 suitors. The mother disliked Levin's brusque and strange 
 way of looking at things, his awkwardness in society, which 
 she attributed to his pride and what she called his savage 
 life in the country, occupied with his cattle and peasants. 
 And she was still more displeased because Levin, though he
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 51 
 
 was in love with her daughter, and had been a frequent vis- 
 itor at their house for six weeks, had appeared like a man 
 who was hesitating, watching, and questioning whether, if he 
 should offer himself, the honor which he conferred upon them 
 would not be too great. Was it not customary for one who 
 comes assiduously to a house where there was a marriageable 
 daughter, to declare his intentions? And then his sudden 
 departure without informing any one! " Jt is fortunate," 
 the mother thought, " that he is so unattractive, and that 
 Kitty has not fallen in love with him." 
 
 Vronsky, on the other hand, satisfied all her requirements : 
 he was rich, intelligent, of good birth, with a brilliant career 
 at court or in the army before him, and, moreover, he was 
 charming. Nothing better could be desired. Vronsky was 
 devoted to Kitty at the balls, danced with her, and called 
 upon her parents : there could be no doubt that his intentions 
 were serious. And yet the poor mother had passed a winter 
 full of doubts and perplexities. 
 
 "When the princess herself was married, through the influ- 
 ence of an aunt, she was thirty years old. llerjiance, who 
 was well known by reputation, came to see her and to show 
 himself : the interview was favorable, and the" intermediary 
 announced the impression produced. On the following day 
 the otlicial demand was made upon the parents, and granted, 
 and all had passed off very simply and naturally. At least, 
 so it seemed to the princess, as she looked back to it. But 
 when she came to see her own daughters married, she learned 
 by experience how difficult and complicated in reality this 
 apparently simple matter was. What anxieties, what cares, 
 what waste of money, what collisions with her husband, 
 when the time came for Dolly and Natali to be married ! 
 And now she was obliged to pass through the same anxieties, 
 and with even more bitter quarrels with her husband. The 
 old prince, like all fathers, was excessively punctilious about 
 every thing that concerned the honor and purity of his 
 daughters : he was distressingly jealous of them, especially 
 of Kitty, his favorite, and at every opportunit}' he accused 
 his wife of compromising his daughter. The princess had 
 become accustomed to these scenes from the days of her 
 elder daughters, but she confessed that her husband's strictr 
 ness was founded on reason. Many of the practices of 
 society had undergone a change, and the duties of mothers 
 were becoming more and more difficult. She saw how
 
 52 ANNA KARfiNINA, 
 
 Kitty's yonng friends went freely into society, rode horse- 
 back, were forward with men. went out to drive with them 
 alone : she saw that many of them no longer made courtesies, 
 and, what was more serious, each of them was firmly con- 
 vinced that the business of choosing a husband was incum- 
 bent on her alone, and not at all on her parents. " Marriages 
 aren't made as they used to be," were the thoughts and re- 
 marks of these young ladies, and even of some of the older 
 people. "But how are marriages made nowadays?" and 
 this question the princess could not get any one to answer. 
 The French custom, which allows the parents full liberty to 
 decide the lot of their children, was not accepted, w r as even 
 bitterly criticised. The English custom, which allows the 
 girls absolute liberty, was not admissible. The Russian 
 custom of marriage, through an intermediary, was regarded 
 as a relic of barbarism : everybody ridiculed it, even the 
 princess herself. But she was unable to decide what course 
 of action to take. Every one with whom the princess 
 talked said the same thing: "It is high time to renounce 
 those exploded notions ; it is the young folks and not the 
 old who get married, and, therefore, it is for them to make 
 their arrangements in accordance with their own ideas." It 
 was well enough for those without daughters to say this ; but 
 the princess knew well, that if she allowed Kitt}- to enjoy 
 the society of young men, she ran the risk of seeing her fall 
 in love w ith some one whom her parents would not approve, 
 who would not make her a good husband, or would not 
 dream of marrying her. According to the views of the 
 princess, one might better give five-year-old children loaded 
 pistols as playthings, than allow young people to marry ac- 
 cording to their own pleasure, without the aid of their par- 
 ents. And, therefore, Kitty gave her mother much more 
 solicitude than either of the other daughters had. 
 
 Just at present her fear was that Vronsky would content 
 himself with playing the gallant. She saw that Kitty was 
 in love with him, and she felt assured only when she thought 
 that he was a man of honor ; but she could not hide the 
 fact, that, through the new liberty allowed in society, it 
 would be very easy for a man of the world to turn the head 
 of a young girl, without feeling the least scruple at enjoying 
 this new sort of intoxication. The week before Kitty had 
 told her mother of a conversation which she had held with 
 Vronsky during a mazurka, and this conversation seemed
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 53 
 
 significant to the princess, though it did not absolutely sat- 
 isfy her. Vronsky told Kitty that he and his brother were 
 both so used to letting their mother decide things for them, 
 that they never undertook any thing of importance without 
 consulting her. " And now," he added, " I am looking for 
 my mother's arrival from Petersburg as a great piece of 
 good fortune." 
 
 Kitty reported these words without attaching any impor- 
 tance to them, but her mother gave them a meaning conform- 
 able to her desire. She knew that the old countess was 
 expected from day to da} T , and that she would be satisfied 
 with her son's choice; but it seemed strange to her that he 
 had not offered himself before his mother's arrival, as though 
 he feared to offend her. In spite of these contradictions, she 
 gave a favorable interpretation to these words, so anxious 
 was she to escape from her anxieties. Bitterly as she felt 
 the unhappiness of her oldest daughter, Dolly, who was 
 thinking of leaving her husband, she was completely ab- 
 sorbed in her anxieties about her youngest daughter's fate, 
 which seemed to be trembling in the balance. Levin's arri- 
 val to-day added to her troubles. She feared lest Kitty, 
 through excessive delicacy, would refuse Vronsky out of 
 respect to the sentiment which she had once felt for Levin. 
 His arrival promised to throw every thing into confusion, and 
 to postpone a long desired consummation. 
 
 "Has he been here long?" asked the princess of her 
 daughter, when they reached home after their meeting with 
 Levin. 
 
 " Since yesterday, maman." 
 
 "I have one thing that I want to say to you," the prin- 
 cess began ; but at the sight of her serious and agitated face, 
 Kitty knew what was coming. 
 
 " Mamma," said she blushing, and turning quickly to her, 
 "don't speak about this, I beg of you, 1 beg of you. I 
 know, I know all ! " 
 
 She felt as her mother felt, but the motives that caused 
 her mother to feel as she did were repugnant to her. 
 
 " I only want to say that as 3-011 have given hope to one " 
 
 " Mamma, galubchik [darling], don't speak. It's so ter- 
 rible to speak about this." 
 
 "I will not," replied her mother, seeing the tears in her 
 eyes: "only one word, moya dn$ha [my soul] ^ you have 
 promised to have no secrets from me."
 
 54 AVNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 "Never, mamma, never! " looking her mother full in the 
 face and blushing: "hut I have nothing to tell now. I 
 I even if I wanted to, I could not say what and how 
 I could not ' ' 
 
 ' No, with those eyes she cannot speak a falsehood," was 
 the mother's thought, smiling at her emotion. The princess 
 smiled to think how momentous appeared to the poor girl the 
 thoughts that were passing in her heart. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 AFTER dinner, and during the first part of the evening, 
 Kitty felt as a young man feels who is about to fight his first 
 duel. Her heart beat violently, and it was impossible for 
 her to collect and concentrate her thoughts. She felt that 
 this evening, when they two should meet for the first time, 
 would decide her fate. She saw them in her imagination, 
 sometimes together, sometimes separately. When she thought 
 of the past, pleasure, almost tenderness, filled her heart at 
 the remembrance of her relations with Levin. The friend- 
 ship which he had shown for her departed brother, their own 
 childish confidences, invested him with a certain poetic charm. 
 She found it agreeable to think of him, and to feel that he 
 loved her, for she could not doubt that he loved her, and 
 she was proud of it. On the other hand, she felt uneasy 
 when she thought about Vrousky, and perceived that there 
 was something false in their relationship, for which she 
 blamed herself, not him ; for he had in the highest degree 
 the calmness and self-possession of a man of the world, and 
 always remained friendly and natural. All was clear and 
 simple in her relations with Levin. But while Vrousky 
 seemed to offer her dazzling promises and a brilliant future, 
 the future with Levin seemed enveloped in mist. 
 
 After dinner Kitty went to her room to dress for the re- 
 ception. As she stood before the mirror she felt that she 
 was looking her loveliest, and, what was most important on 
 this occasion, that she was mistress of her forces, for she 
 felt at ease, and entirely self-possessed. 
 
 At half-past seven, as she was descending to the sZon, the 
 servant announced, " Konstautin Dmitritch Levin." The 
 princess was still in her room : the prince had not yet come 
 down. "It has come at last," thought Kitty; aud all the
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 55 
 
 blood rushed to her heart. As she passed a mirror, she was 
 startled to see how pale she looked. She knew now, for a 
 certainty, that he had come early, so as to find her alone and 
 offer himself. And instantly the situation appeared to her 
 for the first time in a new, strange light. It no longer con- 
 cerned herself alone ; nor was it a question of knowing who 
 would make her happy, or to whom she would give the pref- 
 erence. .She felt that she was about to wound a man whom 
 she liked, and to wound him cruelly. Why, why was it that 
 such a charming man loved her? Why had he fallen in love 
 with her? But it was too late to mend matters : it was fated 
 to be so. 
 
 " Merciful heaven ! Is it possible that I myself have got 
 to give him an answer?" she thought, "that I must tell 
 him that I don't love him? It is not true ! But what can I 
 say? That I love another? Impossible. I will run away, 
 I will run away ! " 
 
 She was already at the door, when she heard his step. 
 " No, it is not honorable. What have I to fear? I have done 
 nothing wrong. Let come what will. I will tell the truth ! I 
 shall not be ill at ease with him. Ah, here he is ! " she said 
 to herself, as she saw his strong but timid countenance, with 
 his brilliant eyes fixed upon her. She looked him full in the 
 face, with an air that seemed to implore his protection, and 
 extended her hand. 
 
 "I came rather earl}-, seems to me," said he, casting a 
 glance about the empty room ; and when he saw that Ire was 
 not mistaken, and that nothing would prevent him from speak- 
 ing, his face grew solemn. 
 
 " Oh. no ! " said Kitty, sitting down near a table. 
 
 " But it is exactly what I wanted, so that I might find you 
 alone," he began, without sitting, and without looking at her, 
 lest he should lose his courage. 
 
 " Mamma will be here in a moment. She was very tired 
 to-day. To-day" 
 
 She spoke without thinking what she said, and did not take 
 her imploring and gentle gaze from his face. 
 
 Levin turned to her : she blushed, and stopped speaking. 
 
 " I told you to-day that I did not know how long I should 
 stay ; that it depended on you " 
 
 Kitty drooped her head lower and lower, not knowing how 
 she should reply to the words that he was going to speak. 
 
 " That it depended upon you," he repeated. "I meant
 
 56 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 I meant I came for this, that be my wife," he mur- 
 mured, not kuowing what he had said, but feeling that he 
 had got through the worst of the difficulty. Then he stopped, 
 and looked at her. 
 
 She felt almost suffocated: she did not raise her head. 
 Her heart was full of happiness. Never could she have be- 
 lieved that the declaration of his love would make such a 
 deep impression upon her. But this impression lasted only 
 a moment. She remembered Vronsky. She lifted her sin- 
 cere and liquid eyes to Levin, whose agitated face she saw, 
 and then said hastily, 
 
 ' This cannot be ! Forgive me ! " 
 
 How near to him, a moment since, she had been, and how 
 necessary to his life ! and now how far away and strange she 
 suddenly seemed to be ! 
 
 "It could not have been otherwise," he said, without 
 looking at her. 
 
 He bowed, and was about to leave the room. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 AT this instant the princess entered. Apprehension was 
 pictured on her face when she saw their agitated faces, and 
 that they had been alone. Levin bowed low, and did not 
 speak. Kitty was silent, and did not raise her ayes. " Thank 
 God, she has refused him! " thought the mother; and the 
 smile with which she always received her Thursday guests 
 re-appeared upon her lips. She sat down, and began to ask 
 Levin questions about his life in the country. He also sat 
 down, hoping to escape unobserved when the guests began to 
 arrive. Five minutes later, one of Kitty's friends, who had 
 been married the winter before, was announced, the Count- 
 ess Nordstone. She was a dried-up, yellow, nervous, sickly 
 woman, with great black eyes. She was fond of Kitty, and 
 her affection, like that of every married woman for a young 
 girl, was expressed by a keen desire to have her married in 
 accordance with her own ideas of conjugal happiness. She 
 wanted to marry her to Vronsky. Levin, whom she had 
 often met at the Shcherbatskys' the first of the winter, was 
 always distasteful to her, and her favorite occupation, after 
 she had met him in society, was to make sport of him. 
 
 " I am enchanted," she said, " when he looks down upon
 
 ANNA KARNINA. 57 
 
 me from his imposing loftiness, or when he fails to honor me 
 with his learned conversation because I am too silly for him 
 to condescend to. I am enchanted that he cannot endure 
 me." She was right, because the fact was, that Levin could 
 not endure her, and he despised her for being proud of what 
 she regarded as a merit, her nervous temperament, her in- 
 difference and delicate ecorn for all that seemed to her gross 
 and material. 
 
 The relationship between Levin and the Countess Nord- 
 stone was such as is often met with in society where two 
 persons, friends in outward appearance, despise each other 
 to such a degree that they cannot hold a serious conversa- 
 tion, or even clash with each other. 
 
 The Countess Nordstone instantly addressed herself to 
 Levin : " Ah, Konstantin Dmitrievitch ! are }'ou back again 
 in our abominable Babylon?" said she, giving him her little 
 thin hand, and recalling his own jest that he had made at 
 the beginning of the winter when he compared Moscow to 
 Babylon. "Is Babylon converted, or have you been cor- 
 rupted?" she added with a mocking smile in Kitty's direc- 
 tion. 
 
 " I am greatly flattered, countess, that you kept such ac- 
 curate account of my words," replied Levin, who, having had 
 time to collect his thoughts, instantly entered into the face- 
 tiously hostile tone peculiar to his relations with the Countess 
 Nordstone. "It seems that they have made a very deep 
 impression upon you." 
 
 ''Ark! how so? But I shall make notes. Nu! how is it, 
 Kitty, have you been skating to-day?" And she began to 
 talk with her young friend. 
 
 Although it was scarcely decent to take his departure now, 
 Levin would have preferred to commit this breach of eti- 
 quette rather than endure the punishment of remaining 
 through the evening, and to see Kitty, who was secretly 
 watching him, though she pretended not to look at him. He 
 therefore attempted to get np ; but the princess noticed his 
 movement, and, turning toward him, she said, 
 
 " Do you intend to remain long in Moscow? You are jus- 
 tice of the peace in your district, are you not? and I suppose 
 that will prevent you from making a long stay." 
 
 ' No. princess, I have resigned that office," he said. "I 
 have come to stay several days." 
 
 " Something has happened to him," thought the Countess
 
 58 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 Nordstone, as she saw Levin's stern and serious face, 
 " because he does not launch out into his usual tirades ; but 
 I'll soon draw him out. Nothing amuses me more than to 
 make him ridiculous before Kitty." 
 
 "Konstantin Dmitritch," she said to him, " you who know 
 all things, please explain this to me : at our estate in Kaluga 
 all the muzhiks [peasants] and their wives drink up all that 
 they own, and don't pay what they owe us. You are always 
 praising the muzhiks: what does this mean? " 
 
 At this moment a lady came in, and Levin arose : " Excuse 
 me, countess, I know nothing at all about it, and I cannot 
 answer your question," said he, looking at an officer, who 
 entered at the same time with the lady. 
 
 "That must be Vrousky," he thought, and to confirm his 
 surmise he glanced at Kitty. She had already had time to 
 perceive Vronsky, and observe Levin. When he saw the 
 young girl's shining eyes, Levin saw that she loved that 
 man, he saw it as clearly as though she herself had confessed 
 it to him. But what sort of a man was he? Now whether 
 for good or ill Levin could not help remaining : he must 
 find out for himself what sort of a man it was that she 
 loved. 
 
 There are men who, in presence of a fortunate rival, are 
 disposed to deny that there are any good qualities in him ; 
 others, on the contrary, endeavor to discover nothing but 
 the merits which have won him his success, and with sore 
 hearts to attribute to him nothing but good. Levin belonged 
 to -the latter class. It was not hard for him to discover what 
 amiable and attractive qualities Vronsky possessed. They 
 were apparent at a glance. He was dark, of medium stat- 
 ure, and well proportioned ; his face was handsome, calm, 
 and friendly ; every thing about his person, from his black, 
 short-cut hair, and his freshly shaven chin, to his new, well- 
 fitting uniform was simple and perfectly elegant. Vronsky 
 allowed the lady to pass before him, then he approached the 
 princess, and finally came to Kitty. It seemed to Levin that, 
 as he drew near her, her beautiful eyes shone with deeper 
 tenderness, and that her smile expressed a joy mingled with 
 triumph. He extended toward her his hand which was small, 
 but rather wide, and bowed respectfully. After bowing and 
 speaking a few words to each of the ladies to whom he was 
 presented, he sat down without having seen Levin, who never 
 once took his eyes from him.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 59 
 
 "Gentlemen, allow me to make you acquainted," said 
 the princess turning to Levin : " Konstantin Dmitritch 
 Levin, Count Aleksei Kirillovitch Vronsky." 
 
 Vronsky arose, and, with a friendly look into Levin's eyes, 
 shook hands with him. 
 
 "It seems," said he, with his frank and pleasant smile, 
 " that I was to have had the honor of dining with you this 
 winter ; but you went off unexpectedly to the country." 
 
 " Konstantin Dmitritch despises and shuns the city, and 
 us, its denizens," said the Countess Nordstone. 
 
 " It must be that my words impress you deeply, since you 
 remember them so well," said Levin ; and, perceiving that 
 he had already made this remark, he blushed deeply. 
 
 Vronsky looked at Levin and the countess, and smiled : 
 " So, then, you always live in the country? " he asked. " I 
 should think it would be tiresome in winter." 
 
 "Not if one has enough to do ; besides, one does not get 
 tired of himself," said Levin in a sour tone. 
 
 "I like the country," said Vronsky, noticing Levin's tone, 
 and appearing not to notice it. 
 
 " But you would not consent to live always in the country, 
 I hope," said the Countess Nordstone. 
 
 "I don't know; I never made a long stay ; but I once 
 felt a strange sensation," he added. " Never have I so ea- 
 gerly longed for the country, the real Russian country with 
 its muzhiks, as during the winter that I spent at Nice with 
 my mother. Nice, you know, is melancholy anywaA" ; and 
 Naples, Sorrento, are pleasant only for a short time. It is 
 then that one remembers Russia most tenderly, and espe- 
 cially the country. One would say that " 
 
 He spoke, now addressing Kitty, now Levin, turning his 
 calm and friendly face from one to the other, as he said 
 whatever came into his head. 
 
 As the Countess Nordstone seemed desirous to put in her 
 word, he stopped, without finishing his phrase, and listened 
 attentively. 
 
 The conversation did not languish a single instant, so that 
 the old princess had no need of advancing her unfailing 
 themes, her two heavy guns, classic and scientific educa- 
 tion, and the general compulsory conscription, which she 
 held in reserve in case the silence became prolonged. The 
 countess did not even have a chance to rally Levin. 
 
 He wanted to join in the general conversation, but was
 
 60 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 
 
 unable. He kept saying to himsejf, "Now, I'll go;" and 
 still he waited as though he expected something. 
 
 The conversation turned on table-tipping and spiritism ; 
 and the Countess Nordstone, who was a believer iu it, began 
 to relate the marvels which she had seen. 
 
 " Ach, countess! in the name of Heaven, take me to see 
 them. I never yet saw any thing extraordinary, anxious as 
 I have always been," said Vronsky smiling. 
 
 "Good; next Saturday," replied the countess. "But 
 you, Konstantin Dmitritch, do you believe in it?" she 
 demanded of Levin. 
 
 "Why did you ask me? You knew perfectly well what 
 my answer would be." 
 
 " Because 1 wanted to hear your opinion." 
 
 " My opinion is simply this," replied Levin : " that table- 
 tipping proves that good society is scarcely more advanced 
 than the peasantry. The muzhiks believe in the evil e} r e, in 
 casting lots, in sorceries, while we " 
 
 " That means that you don't believe in it." 
 
 " I cannot believe in it, countess." 
 
 " But if I myself have seen these things? " 
 
 " The babui [peasant women] also say that they have seen 
 the domovo'i" [household spirits]. 
 
 " Then, you think that I do not tell the truth? " And she 
 broke into an unpleasant laugh. 
 
 " But no, Masha. Konstantin Dmitritch simply says that 
 he cannot believe in spiritism," interrupted Kitty, blushing 
 for Levin ; and Levin understood her, and began to speak 
 in a still more irritated tone. But Vronsky came to the rescue, 
 and with a gentle smile brought back the conversation, which 
 threatened to go beyond the bounds of politeness. 
 
 " You do not admit at all the possibility of its being true ? " 
 he asked. " Why not? We willingly admit the existence of 
 electricity, which we do not understand. Why should there 
 not exist a new force, as yet unknown, which " 
 
 "When electricity was discovered," interruped Levin 
 eagerly, " only its phenomena had been seen, and it was not 
 known what produced them, nor whence the}- arose ; and cen- 
 turies passed before people dreamed of making application 
 of it. Spiritualists, on the other hand, have begun by mak- 
 ing tables write, and calling spirits out of them, and it is 
 only afterwards that it was proposed to explain it by an un- 
 known force."
 
 ANNA KAEtiNlNA. 61 
 
 Vronsky listened attentively, as was his custom, and seemed 
 interested in Levin's words. 
 
 "Yes; but the spiritualists say, 'We do not yet know 
 what this force is, and at the same time it is a force, and 
 acts under certain conditions.' Let the scientists find out 
 what it is. Why should it not be a new force if it " 
 
 " Because," interrupted Levin again, " every time you rub 
 wood with resin, you produce a certain and invariable electri- 
 cal action ; while spiritism brings no invariable result, and 
 consequently its effects cannot be regarded as natural phe- 
 nomena." 
 
 Vronsky, perceiving that the conversation was growing too 
 serious for a reception, made no reply ; and, in order to make 
 a diversion, said, smiling gayly, and turning to the ladies, 
 
 " Countess, why don't you make the experiment right 
 now?" But Levin wanted to finish saying what was in his 
 mind. 
 
 "I think," he continued, "that the attempts made by 
 spiritual mediums to explain their miracles by a new force, 
 cannot succeed. They claim that it is a supernatural force, 
 and yet they want to submit it to a material test." All were 
 waiting for him to come to an end, and he felt it. 
 
 " And I think that you would be a capital medium," said 
 the Countess Marya Nordstone. "There is something so 
 enthusiastic about you ! " 
 
 Levin opened his mouth to speak, but he said nothing, and 
 blushed. 
 
 " Come, ladies, let us arrange the tables, and give them a 
 trial," said Vronsky: "with your permission, princess." 
 And Vronsky rose, and looked for a table. 
 
 Kitty was standing by a table, and her e} T es met Levin's". 
 Her whole soul pitied him, because she felt that she was the 
 cause of his pain. Her look said, " Forgive me if you can. 
 I am so happy." And his look replied, " I hate the whole 
 world, you and myself." He went to get his hat. 
 
 But fate once more was unpropitious. Hardly had the 
 guests taken their places around the table, and he was about 
 to go out, when the old prince entered, and, after bowing to 
 the ladies, went straight to Levin. 
 
 "Ah!" he cried joyfully. "What a stranger! I did 
 flot know that you were here. Very glad to see you ! " 
 
 In speaking to Levin the prince sometimes used tui (thou) , 
 and sometimes vui (you). He took him by the arm, and
 
 62 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 
 
 while conversing with him, gave no notice to Vronsky, who 
 was standing behind Levin, waiting patiently to bow as soon 
 as the prince should see him. 
 
 Kitty felt that her father's friendliness must seem hard to 
 Levin after what had happened. She also noticed how coldly 
 her father at last acknowledged Vronsky 's bow, and how 
 Vronsky seemed to ask himself, with good-humored surprise, 
 what this icy reception meant, and she blushed. 
 
 "Prince," let us have Konstantin Dmitritch," said the 
 Countess Nordstone. " We want to try an experiment." 
 
 " What sort of an experiment? table-tipping? Nu! ex- 
 cuse me, ladies and gentlemen ; but, in my opinion, kaletchki 
 [grace-hoops] would be more amusing," said the prince, 
 looking at Vronsky, whom he took to be the originator of 
 this sport. " At least there's some sense in grace-hoops." 
 
 Vronsky, astonished, turned his steady eyes upon the old 
 prince, and, gently smiling, began to speak with the Countess 
 Nordstone about the arrangements for a ball to be given the 
 following week. 
 
 " I hope that you will be there," said he, turning to Kitty. 
 
 As soon as the old prince had gone, Levin made his escape ; 
 and the last impression which he bore away from this recep- 
 tion was Kitty's happy, smiling face, answering Vrousky in 
 regard to the ball. 
 
 XV. 
 
 AFTER the reception, Kitty told her mother of her conver- 
 sation with Levin ; and, in spite of all the pain that she 
 had caused him, the thought that he had asked her to 
 marry him flattered her. But while she felt the conviction 
 that she had acted properly, it was long before she could 
 go to sleep. One memory constantly arose in her mind : 
 it was Levin as he stood near her father, looking at her 
 and Vronsky with gloomy, melancholy eyes. She could not 
 keep back the tears. But, as she thought of him who had 
 replaced Levin in her regards, she saw vividly his hand- 
 some, strong, and manly face, his self-possession, so digni- 
 fied, his air of benevolence : she recalled his love for her, 
 and how she loved him ; and joy came back to her heart. 
 She laid her head on the pillow, and smiled with happiness. 
 " It is too bad, too bad; but I can't help it, it is not my 
 fault," she said to herself, although an inward voice wins-
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 63 
 
 pered the contrary. Ought she to reproach herself for 
 having been attracted to Levin, or for having refused him? 
 She did not know, but her happiness was not unalloyed. 
 " Lord, have pity upon me ! Lord, have pity upon me ! Lord, 
 have pity upon me ! " she repeated until she went to sleep. 
 
 Meantime there was going on in the prince's little library 
 one of those scenes which frequently occurred between the 
 parents in regard to their favorite daughter. 
 
 "What? This is what!" cried the prince, raising his 
 arms in spite of the awkwardness of his fur-lined dressing- 
 gown. " You have neither pride nor dignit}* : you are ruin- 
 ing your daughter with this low and ridiculous manner of 
 hunting a husband for her." 
 
 " But, in the name of Heaven, prince, what have I done? ". 
 said the princess in tears. 
 
 She had come, as usual, to say good-night to her husband ; 
 and feeling very happy over her conversation with her daugh- 
 ter, and though she had not ventured to breathe a word of 
 Kitty's rejection of Levin, she allowed herself to allude to 
 the project of her marriage with Vronsky, which she looked 
 upon as settled, as soon as the countess should arrive. At 
 these words the prince had fallen into a passion, and had 
 addressed her with unpleasant reproaches. 
 
 " What have you done? In the first place, you have 
 decoyed a husband for her ; and all Moscow will say so, and 
 with justice. If you want to give receptions, give them, by 
 all means, but invite everybody, and not suitors of your 
 own choice. Invite all these tiittkof" [dudes], thus the 
 prince called the young fellows of Moscow, " have some- 
 body to play, and let 'em dance ; but don't arrange such 
 interviews as you had to-night. It seems to me abom- 
 inable, abominable ; and you will get the worst of it. You 
 have turned the girl's head. Levin is worth a thousand men. 
 And as to this Petersburg idiot, who goes as if he were 
 worked by machinery, he and all his kind are alike, all 
 trash ! My daughter has no need of going out of her way, 
 even for a prince of the blood." 
 
 "But what have I done?" 
 
 " Why, this " cried the prince angrily. 
 
 " I know well enough, that, if I listen to you," interrupted 
 the princess, "we shall never see our daughter married; 
 and, in that case, we might just as well go into the country." 
 
 " That certainly would be better."
 
 64 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 "But listen! Have I made any advances? No, I have 
 not. But a young man, and a very handsome young man, 
 is in love with her ; and she, it seems," 
 
 " Yes, so it seems to you. But suppose she should be in 
 love with him, and he have as much intention of getting 
 married as I myself ? Och! Haven't I eyes to see? Ach, 
 spiritism! ac/i, Nice! ac/i, the ball! Here the prince, 
 attempting to imitate his wife, made a courtesy at every 
 word. " We shall be very proud when we have made our 
 Kationka unhappy, and when, on account of this very thing, 
 her head " 
 
 " But what makes you think so? " 
 
 "I don't think so, I know so; and that's why we have 
 eyes, and you mothers haven't. I see a man who has seri- 
 ous intentions, Levin ; and I see a fine bird, like this good- 
 for-nothing, who is merely amusing himself." 
 
 " Nu! you, too, have fine ideas in your head." 
 
 "You will remember what I have said, but too late, as 
 you did with Ddshenka." 
 
 "JVtt/ very well, very well, we will not say any thing 
 more about it," said the princess, who was cut short by the 
 remembrance of Dolly. 
 
 " So much the better, and good-night." 
 
 The husband and wife, as they separated, kissed each other 
 good-night, making the sign of the cross as usual ; but each 
 remained unchanged in opinion. 
 
 The princess had been firmly convinced that Kitty's fate 
 was decided by the events of the evening, and she felt that 
 Vronsky's designs were evident ; but her husband's words 
 troubled her. On her return to her room, as she thought in 
 terror of the unknown future, she followed Kitty's example, 
 and prayed from the bottom of her heart, " Lord, have pity ! 
 Lord, have pity ! Lord, have pity ! " 
 
 XVI. 
 
 VRONSKY had never experienced the enjoyment of family 
 life : his mother, a woman of fashion, who had been very 
 brilliant in her youth, had taken part in romantic adventures 
 during her husband's lifetime, and after his death. Vronsky 
 had never known his father, and his education had been 
 given him in the School of Pages.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 65 
 
 As soon as the brilliant young officer had graduated, he 
 began to move in the highest military circles of Petersburg. 
 Though he occasional!}' went into general society, he found 
 nothing as yet to stir the interests of his heart. 
 
 It was at Moscow that for the first time he felt the charm 
 of familiar intercourse with a young girl of good family, 
 lovely, naive, and evidently not averse to his attentions. 
 The contrast with his luxurious but dissipated life in Peters- 
 burg enchanted him, and it never occurred to him that com- 
 plications might arise from his relations with Kitty. At 
 receptions he preferred to dance with her, he called upon her, 
 talked with her in the light way common in society ; all that 
 he said to her might have been heard by others, and yet he 
 felt that these trifles had a different significance when spoken 
 to her, that they established between them a bond which 
 every day grew closer and closer. It was farthest from his 
 thoughts that his conduct might be regarded as dishonorable, 
 since he did not dream of marriage. He simply imagined 
 that he had discovered a new pleasure, and he enjoyed his 
 discovery. 
 
 What would have been his surprise could he have heard 
 the conversation between Kitty's parents, could he have 
 realized that Kitty would be made unhappy if he did not 
 propose to her. He would not have believed that this frank 
 and charming relationship could be dangerous, or that it 
 brought any obligation to marry. He had never considered 
 the possibility of his getting married. Not only was family 
 life distasteful to him, but from his view as a bachelor, the 
 family, and especially the husband, belonged to a strange, 
 hostile, and, worst of all, ridiculous world. But though 
 Vronsky had not the slightest suspicion of the conversation 
 of which he had been the subject, he left the Shcherbatskys 
 with the feeling that the mysterious bond which attached him 
 to Kitty was closer than ever, so close, indeed, that he felt 
 that he must make some resolution. But what resolution he 
 ought to make, he could not tell for the life of him. 
 
 " How charming ! " he thought, as he went to his rooms, 
 feeling as he always felt when he left the Shcherbatskys, a 
 deep impression of purity and freshness, arising from the 
 fact that he had not smoked all the evening, and a new sen- 
 sation of tenderness caused by her love for him. "How 
 charming that, without either of us saying any thing, we 
 understand each other so perfectly through this mute Ian-
 
 66 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 
 
 guage of glances and tones, so that to-day more than ever 
 before she told me that she loves me! And how lovely, 
 natural, and, above all, confidential she was ! I feel that I 
 myself am better, purer. J feel that I have a heart, and 
 that there is something good in me. Those gentle, lovely 
 eyes ! When she said Nu I what did she say ? Nothing 
 much, but it was pleasant for me, and pleasant for her." 
 And he reflected how he could best finish up the evening. 
 " Shall it be the k club,' a hand of bezique, and some cham- 
 pagne with Ignatof? No, not there. The Chateau des 
 Fteurs, to find Oblonsky, songs, and the cancan? No, it's a 
 bore. And this is just why I like the Shcherbatskys, be- 
 cause I feel better for having been there. I'll go home! " 
 He went to his room at Dusseaux's, ordered supper, and 
 scarcely touched his head to the pillow before he was sound 
 asleep. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE next day, about eleven o'clock, Vronsky went to the 
 station to meet his mother on the Petersburg train ; and the 
 first person whom he saw on the grand staircase was Oblou- 
 sky, who had come to welcome his sister. 
 
 "Ah! your excellency," cried Oblonsky. "Whom are 
 you expecting ? ' ' 
 
 "My matushka," replied Vronsky, with the smile with 
 which people always met Oblonsky. And, after shaking 
 hands, they mounted the staircase side by side. " She was 
 to come from Petersburg to-da}-." 
 
 " I waited for you till two o'clock this morning. Where 
 did you go after leaving the Shcherbatskys? " 
 
 " Home," replied Vronsky. " To tell the truth, I did not 
 feel like going anywhere after such a pleasant evening at the 
 Shcherbatskys'." 
 
 " I know fiery horses by their brand, and young people 
 who are in love by their eyes," said Stepan Arkady evitch in 
 the same dramatic tone in which he had spoken to Levin the 
 evening before. 
 
 Vronsky smiled, as much as to say that he did not deny 
 it ; but he hastened to change the conversation. 
 
 " And whom have you come to meet? " he asked. 
 
 "I? a very pretty woman," said Oblousky. 
 
 "Ah! indeed!"
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 67 
 
 " Horn soft qui mal y pense ! My sister Anna ! " 
 
 "vie/* / Madame Kaivnina? " asked Vrousky. 
 
 ' 'Do you know her, then? " 
 
 "It seems to me that I do. Or no truth is, I don't 
 think I do," replied Vrousky somewhat confused. The 
 name Karnma brought to his mind a tiresome and affected 
 person. 
 
 " But Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, my celebrated brother-in- 
 law, you must know him ! Everybody in creation knows 
 him." 
 
 " That is, I know him by reputation, but not by sight. I 
 know that he is talented, learned, and something divine ; but 
 you know that he is not not in my Zme," said Vronsky in 
 English. 
 
 " Yes: he is a remarkable man, somewhat conservative, 
 but a famous man," replied Stepau Arkadyevitch. "A 
 famous man." 
 
 "Nti! so much the better for him," said Vronsky, smil- 
 ing. "Ah! here you are," he cried, seeing his mother's 
 old lackey. "This way," he added, stationing him at the 
 door. 
 
 Vronsky, besides experiencing the pleasure that everybody 
 felt in seeing Stepan Arkadyevitch, had for some time espe- 
 cially liked being in his society, because, in a certain way, it 
 brought him closer to Kitty. Therefore he took him by the 
 arm, and said gayly, " Nu! what do you say to giving the 
 diva a supper Sunday? " 
 
 " Certainly: I will pay my share. Ach! tell me, did you 
 meet my friend Levin last evening?" 
 
 " Yes ; but he went away very earl}-." 
 
 " He is a famous fellow," said Oblonsky, " isn't he? " 
 
 " I don't know why it is," replied Vronsky, " but all the 
 Muscovites, present company excepted,". he added jestingly, 
 " have something sharp about them. The}' all seem to be 
 high-strung, fiery-tempered, as though they all wanted to 
 make you understand " 
 
 " That is true enough : it is " replied Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch, smiling pleasantly. 
 
 " Is the train on time? " demanded Vronsky of an employt. 
 
 " It will be here directly," replied the employ^. 
 
 The increasing bustle in the station, the coming and going 
 of the artelshchiks. the appearance of policemen and officials, 
 the arrival of expectant friends, all indicated the approach
 
 68 ANNA K Alt NINA. 
 
 of the train. The morning was frosty ; and through the 
 steam, workmen could be seen, dressed in their winter cos- 
 tumes, silently passing in their felt boots amid the network 
 of rails. The whistle of the coming engine was already 
 heard, and a monstrous object seemed to be advancing with 
 a heavy rumble. 
 
 " No," continued Stepan Arkadyevitch, who was anxious 
 to inform Vronsky of Levin's intentions in regard to Kitty. 
 "No, j'ou are unjust towards my friend Levin. He is a 
 very nervous man, and sometimes he can be disagreeable ; 
 but, on the other hand, he can be very charming. He is 
 such an upright, genuine nature, true gold ! Last evening 
 there were special reasons why he should have been either 
 very happy or very unhappy," continued Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch with a significant smile, and entirely forgetting in his 
 present sympathy for Vrousky, his sympathy of the evening 
 before for his old friend. 
 
 Vronsky stopped short, and asked point blank, 
 
 " Do you mean that he proposed yesterday evening to jour 
 belle-soeur?" [sister-in-law]. 
 
 " Possibly," replied Stepan Arkadyevitch : " this disturbed 
 me last evening. Yes, he went off so early, and was in such 
 bad spirits, tliat it seemed to me as if He has been in 
 love with her for so long, and I am very angry with him." 
 
 "Ah, indeed! I thought that she might, however, have 
 aspirations for a better match," said Vronsky, turning around, 
 and beginning to walk up and down. "However, I don't 
 know him, but this promises to be a painful situation. That 
 is why so many men prefer to be faithful to their Claras ; at 
 least with these ladies, there is no suspicion of any merce- 
 nary considerations you stand on your own merits. But 
 here is the train." 
 
 The train was just rumbling into the station. The plat- 
 form shook ; and the locomotive, driving before it the steam 
 condensed by the cold air, became visible. Slowly and rhyth- 
 mically the connecting rod of the great wheels rose and fell : 
 the engineer, well muffled, and covered with frost, leaped to 
 the platform. Next the tender came the baggage-car, still 
 more violently shaking the platform ; a dog in its cage was 
 yelping piteously ; finally appeared the passenger-cars, which 
 jolted together as the train came to a stop. 
 
 A youthful-looking and somewhat pretentiously elegant 
 conductor slowly stepped down from the car, and whistled,
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 69 
 
 and behind him came the more impatient of the travellers, 
 an officer of the guard, with martial bearing ; a small, smiling 
 merchant, with his grip-sack ; and a muzhik, with his bundle 
 slung over his shoulder. 
 
 Vronsky, standing near Oblonsky, watched the sight, and 
 completely forgot his mother. What he had just heard about 
 Kitty caused him emotion and joy : he involuntarily straight- 
 ened himself ; his eyes glistened ; he felt that he had won a 
 victory. 
 
 ''The Countess Vronskai'a is in that coach," said the 
 youthful-looking conductor, approaching him. These words 
 awoke him from his revery, and brought his thoughts back 
 to his mother and their approaching interview. Without 
 ever having confessed as much to himself, he had no great 
 respect for his mother, and he did not love her. But his 
 education and the usages of the society in which he lived did 
 not allow him to admit that there could be in his relations 
 with her the slightest want of consideration. But the more 
 he exaggerated the bare outside forms, the more he felt in 
 his heart that he did not respect or love her. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 VRONSKY followed the conductor ; and as he was about to 
 enter the coach, he stood aside to allow a lady to pass him. 
 With the instant intuition of a man of the world he saw that 
 she belonged to the very best society. Begging her pardon, 
 he was about to enter the door, but involuntarily he turned 
 to give another look at the lady, not on account of her 
 beauty, her grace, or her elegance, but because the expres- 
 sion of her lovely face, as she passed, seemed to him so gentle 
 and sweet. 
 
 She also turned her head as he looked back at her. With 
 her gray eyes shining through the long lashes, she gave him 
 a friendly, benevolent look as though she had seen in him a 
 friend, and instantly she turned to seek some one in the 
 throng. Quick as this glance was, Vronsky had time to per- 
 ceive in her face a dignified vivacity which was visible in the 
 half smile that parted her rosy lips, and in the brightness of 
 her eyes. Her whole person was radiant with the overflow- 
 ing spirits of youth, which she tried to hide ; but in spite of 
 her, the veiled lightning of her eyes gleamed in her smile.
 
 70 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 Vronsky went into the coach. His mother, an old lady 
 with little curls and black eyes, received him with a slight 
 srnile oh her thin lips. She got up from her chair, handed 
 her bag to her maid, and extended her little thin hand to 
 her son, who bent over it ; then she kissed him on the brow. 
 
 " You received my telegram? You are well? Thank the 
 Lord!" 
 
 "Did you have a comfortable journey?" said the son, 
 sitting down near her, and at the same time listening to a 
 woman's voice just outside the door. He knew that it was 
 the voice of the lady whom he had met. 
 
 " However, I don't agree with you," said the voice. 
 
 " It is a St. Petersburg way of looking at it, madame." 
 
 " Not at all, but simply a woman's," was her reply. 
 
 " Nu-s! allow me to kiss your hand." 
 
 " Good-by, Ivan Petrovitch. Now look and see if my 
 brother is here, and send him to me," said the lady at the 
 very door, and re-entering the coach. 
 
 "Have you found your brother? " asked Madame Vron- 
 skaia. 
 
 Vronsky now knew that it was Madame Kare"nina. 
 
 " Your brother is here," he said, rising. " Excuse me : I 
 did not recognize you ; but our acquaintance was so short," 
 he added with a bow, " that you were not exactly sure that 
 you remembered me?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! " she said. " I should have known you even if 
 your mfftushJca and I had not spoken about you all the time 
 that we were on the way." And the gayety which she had 
 endeavored to hide lighted her face with a smile. " But my 
 brother does not come." 
 
 " Go and call him, Al6slia," said the old countess. 
 
 Vronsky went out on the platform and shouted, " Oblon- 
 sky ! here ! " 
 
 But Madame Kare'nina did not wait for her brother ; as soon 
 as she saw him she ran out of the car, went straight to him, 
 and with a gesture full of grace and energy, threw one arm 
 around his neck and kissed him affectionately. 
 
 Vronsky could not keep his eyes from her face, and smiled 
 without knowing why. At last he remembered that his 
 mother was waiting, and he went back into the car. 
 
 " Very charming, isn't she? " said the countess, referring 
 to Madame Kare'nina. " Her husband put her in my charge, 
 and I was delighted. We talked all the way. Na ! and you ?
 
 ANNA KARENINA. 71 
 
 They say vans filez le parfait amour. Tant mieux, man 
 clier, tant mieux." [" You are desperately in love. So much 
 the better, my dear, so much the better."] 
 
 " I don't know what you allude to, maman," replied the 
 son coldly. " Come, maman. let us go." 
 
 At this moment Madame Karenina came back to take leave 
 of the countess. 
 
 " Nit vot, countess ! you have found your son, and 1 my 
 brother," she said gayly ; " and I have exhausted my whole 
 fund of stories. I shouldn't have had any thing more to 
 talk about." 
 
 "Nu! not so," said the countess, taking her hand. "I 
 should not object to travel round the world with you. You 
 are one of those agreeable women with whom either speech 
 or silence is golden. As to your son, I beg of you, don't 
 think about him : we must have separations in this world." 
 
 Madame Karenina's eyes smiled while she stood and lis- 
 tened. 
 
 " Anna Arkadyevna has a little boy about eight j'ears 
 old," said the countess in explanation to her sou : " she has 
 never been separated from him before, and it troubles her." 
 
 " Yes, we have talked about our children all the time, 
 the countess of her son, I of mine," said Madame Kare'nina 
 turning to Vronsky ; and again her face broke out into the 
 caressing smile which fascinated him. 
 
 "That must have been very tiresome," tossing lightly 
 back the ball in this little battle of coquetry. She did not 
 continue in the same tone, but turned to the old countess : 
 " Thank you very much. I don't see where the day has 
 gone. An revoir, countess." 
 
 " Good- by, my dear," replied the countess. "Let me 
 kiss your pretty face, and tell you frankly, as it is permitted 
 an old lady, that I am enraptured with you." 
 
 Hackneyed as this expression was, Madame Karenina ap- 
 peared touched by it. She blushed, bowed slightly, and 
 bent her face down to the old countess. Then she gave 
 her hand to Vronsky with the smile that seemed to belong 
 as much to her eyes as to her lips. He pressed her little 
 hand, and, as though it were something wonderful, was 
 delighted to feel its answering pressure firm and energetic. 
 
 Madame Kare'nina went out with light and rapid step. 
 
 " Very charming," said the old lady again. 
 
 Her sou was of the same opinion ; and again his eyes
 
 72 ANNA K A 11^ NINA, 
 
 followed her graceful round form till she was out of sight, 
 and a smile came over his face. Through the window he saw 
 her join her brother, take his arm, and engage him in lively 
 conversation, evidently about some subject in which Vron- 
 sk y had 110 connection, and the young man was vexed. 
 
 "jVtt/ has every thing gone well, maman?" he asked, 
 turning to his mother. 
 
 " Very well, indeed, splendid. Alexandre has been charm- 
 ing, and Marie has been very good. She is very interesting." 
 And again she began to speak of what lay close to her 
 heart, the baptism of her grandson, the reasons that brought 
 her to Moscow, and the special favor shown her eldest son by 
 the emperor. 
 
 "And there is Lavronty," said Vronsky, looking out the 
 window. ;i Now let us go, if you are ready." 
 
 The old servant came to tell the countess that every thing 
 was ready, and she arose to go. 
 
 " Come, there are only a few people about now," said 
 Vronskj*. 
 
 He offered his mother his arm, while the old servant, the 
 maid, and a porter loaded themselves with the bags and other 
 things. But just as they stepped down from the car, a 
 number of men with frightened faces ran by them. The 
 station-master followed in his curiously colored furnzhka (uni- 
 form-cap). An accident had taken place, and the people 
 who had left the train were coming back again. 
 
 " What is it? What is it? Where? He was thrown 
 down ! he is crushed ! " were the exclamations made by the 
 crowd. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch with his sister on his arm had re- 
 turned with the others, and were standing with frightened 
 faces near the train to avoid the crush. 
 
 The ladies went back into the car, and Vronsk}" with 
 Stepan Arkadj'eviteh went with the crowd to see what had 
 happened. 
 
 A train-hand, cither from drunkenness, or because his ears 
 were too closely muffled from the intense cold to allow him 
 to hear the noise of a tram that was backing out, had been 
 crushed. 
 
 The ladies had already learned about the accident from 
 the lackej- before Vronsky and Oblonsky came back. The 
 latter had seen the disfigured body. Oblousky was deeply 
 moved, and seemed ready to shed tears.
 
 ANNA EAS&fTINA. 73 
 
 " Ach, how horrible ! Ach, Anna, if you had only seen it ! 
 Ach, ho\v horrible ! " he repeated. 
 
 Vronsky said nothing ; his handsome face was serious, but 
 absolutely impassive. 
 
 " Ach, if you had only seen it, countess ! ' ' continued Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch, " and' his wife is there. It was terrible to 
 see her. She threw herself on his body. They say that he 
 was the only support of a large family. How terrible ! " 
 
 " Could any thing be done for her? " said Madame Kar6n- 
 ina in a whisper. 
 
 Vronsky looked at her, and saying, " I will be right back, 
 maraan," he left the car. When he came back at the end 
 of a few minutes, Stepan Arkadyevitch was talking with the 
 countess about a new singer, and she was impatiently watch- 
 ing the door for her son. 
 
 " Now let us go," said Vronsky. 
 
 They all went out together, Vronsky walking ahead with 
 his mother, Madame Kare'uina. and her brother side by side. 
 At the door the station-master overtook them, and said to 
 Vronsky, 
 
 " You have given my assistant two hundred rubles. Will 
 you kindly indicate the disposition that we shall make of 
 them?" 
 
 *' For his widow," said Vronsky, shrugging his shoulders. 
 " I don't see why you should have asked me." 
 
 " Did you give that? " asked Oblonsky ; and pressing his 
 sister's arm, he said, " Very kind, very kind. Glorious 
 fellow, isn't he? I wish you good-morning, countess." 
 
 He delayed with his sister looking for her maid. When 
 they left the station, the Vronskys' carriage had already gone. 
 People on all sides were talking about the accident. 
 
 " What a horrible way of dying ! " said a gentleman, pass- 
 ing near them. ' k They say he was cut in two." 
 
 " It seems to me, on the contrary," replied another, " that 
 it was a delightful way : death was instantaneous." 
 
 "Why weren't there any precautions taken?" demanded 
 a third. 
 
 Madame Kare'nina stepped into the carriage ; and Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch noticed, with astonishment, that her lips trem- 
 bled, and that she could hardly keep back the tears. 
 
 What is the matter, Anna?" he asked, when they had 
 goue a little distance. 
 
 " It is an evil omen," she answered.
 
 74 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 "What nonsense!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "You 
 are here, that is the main thing. You cannot realize how 
 much 1 hope from your visit." 
 
 " Have you known Vrousky long? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes. You know we hope that he will marry Kitty." 
 
 " Really," said Anna gently. " Na ! now let us talk about 
 yourself," she added, shaking her head as though she wanted 
 to drive away something that troubled and pained her. " Let 
 us speak about your affairs. I received your letter, and here 
 I am." 
 
 " Yes: all my hope is in you," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. 
 
 " JVw/ tell me all." 
 
 And Stepan Arkadyevitch began his story. When they 
 reached the house he helped his sister from the carnage, 
 shook hands with her, and hastened back to the council- 
 chamber. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 WHEN Anna entered, Dolly was sitting in her little recep- 
 tion-room, with a handsome light-haired lad, the image of his 
 father, who was learning a lesson from a French reading- 
 book. The boy was reading aloud, and at the same time 
 twisting and trying to pull from his vest a button that was 
 hanging loose. His mother had many times reproved him, 
 but the plump little hand kept returning to the button. At 
 last she had to take the button off, and put it in her pocket. 
 
 " Keep your hands still, Grisha," said she, and again took 
 up the bed-quilt on which she had been long at work, and 
 which always came handy at trying moments. She worked 
 nervously, jerking her fingers and counting the stitches. 
 Though she had said to her husband the day before, that his 
 sister's arrival made no difference, nevertheless, she was ready 
 to receive her, and was waiting for her impatiently. 
 
 Dolly was absorbed by her woes, absolutely swallowed 
 up by them. Nevertheless, she did not forget that her sister- 
 in-law, Anna, was the wife of one of the important person- 
 ages of St. Petersburg, a Petersburg r/rande dame. And, 
 grateful for this fact, she did not finish her remark to her 
 husband ; that is, she did not forget that her sister was com- 
 ing. " After all, Anna is not to blame," she said to herself. 
 " 1 know nothing about her that is not good, and our rela- 
 tions have always been good and friendly." To be sure, she
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 75 
 
 could not do away -with the impression left by her visits with 
 the Karenins, at Petersburg, that their home did not seem 
 to her entirely pleasant : there was something false in the 
 relations of their family life. " But why should I not re- 
 ceive her? Provided, only, that she does not take it into her 
 head to console me," thought Dolly. " I know what these 
 Christian exhortations and consolations mean : I have gone 
 over them a thousand times, and I know that they amount 
 to nothing at all." 
 
 Dolly had spent these last days alone with her children. 
 She did not care to speak to any one about her sorrow, and 
 under the load of it she felt that she could not talk about 
 indifferent matters. She knew that now she should have to 
 open her heart to Anna, and now the thought that at last she 
 could tell how she had suffered, delighted her ; and now she 
 was pained because she must speak of her humiliations before 
 his sister, and listen to her reasons and advice. She had 
 been expecting every moment to see her sister-in-law appear, 
 and had been watching the clock ; but, as often happens in 
 such ca.ses, she became so absorbed in her thoughts that she 
 did not hear the door-bell, and when light steps and the 
 rustling of a dress caused her to raise her head, her jaded 
 face expressed not pleasure, but surprise. She arose, and 
 met her guest. 
 
 " What, have you come? " she cried, kissing her. 
 
 " Dolly, how glad I am to see you ! " 
 
 " And I am glad to see you," replied Dolly, with a faint 
 smile, and trying to read, by the expression of Anna's face, 
 how much she knew. " She knows all," was her thought, 
 as she saw the look of compassion on her features. " Nu ! 
 let us go: I will show 3*011 to your room," she went on to 
 say, trying to postpone, as long as possible, the time for ex- 
 planations. 
 
 "Is this Grisha? Heavens ! How he has grown ! " said 
 Anna, kissing him. Then, not taking her eyes from Dolly, 
 she added, with a blush, " No, please don't go yet." 
 
 She took off herpZa/ofc (silk handkerchief), and shaking 
 her head with a graceful gesture, freed her dark curly locks 
 from the band which fastened her hat. 
 
 " How brilliantly happy and healthy you look," said Dolly, 
 almost enviously. 
 
 "I?" exclaimed Anna. "Ah! Bozhe inoi! [Good 
 heavens !] Tania! is that you, the playmate of my little
 
 76 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 
 
 Serozha? " said she, turning to the little girl who came run- 
 ning in. She took her by the hand, and kissed her. " What 
 a charming little girl ! Charming ! But you must show them 
 all to me." 
 
 She recalled, not only the name and age of each, but their 
 characteristics and their little ailments, and Dolly could not 
 help feeling touched. 
 
 " Nu! let us go and see them: but Vasia is asleep; it's 
 too bad." 
 
 After they had seen the children they came back to the 
 sitting-room alone, for lunch, which was waiting. Anna 
 began to eat her soup, and then pushing it away, said, 
 
 " Dolly, he has told me." 
 
 Dolly looked at Anna coldly. She expected some expres- 
 sion of hypocritical sympathy, but Anna said nothing of the 
 kind. 
 
 " Dolly, my dear," she said, " I do not intend to speak 
 to you in defence of him, nor to console you : it is impossi- 
 ble. But, dushenka [dear heart], I am sorry, sorry from 
 the bottom of my heart ! " 
 
 Under her long lashes her brilliant eyes suddenly filled 
 with tears. She drew closer, and with her energetic little 
 hand seized the hand of her sister-in-law. Dolly did not 
 repulse her, though she looked cold and haughty. 
 
 "It is impossible to console me. After what has hap- 
 pened, all is over for me, all is lost." 
 
 As she said these words, her face suddenly softened a 
 little. Anna lifted to her lips the thin, dry hand that she 
 held, and kissed it. 
 
 " But, Dolly, what is to be done? what is to be done? 
 How can we escape from this frightful position? We must 
 think about it." 
 
 "All is over! Nothing can be done!" Dolly replied. 
 "And, what is worse than all, you must understand it, is 
 that I cannot leave him ! the children ! I am chained to him ! 
 and I cannot live with him ! It is torture to see him ! " 
 
 " Dolly, galubchik [darling], he has told me ; but I should 
 like to hear your side of the story. Tell me all." 
 
 Dolly looked at her with a questioning expression. She 
 could read sympathy and the sincerest affection in Anna's 
 face. 
 
 " I should like to," she suddenly said. " But I shall tell 
 you every thing from the very beginning. You know how I
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 77 
 
 was married. With the education that maman gave me, 
 I was not only innocent, I was a goose. I did not know any 
 thing. I know they said husbands told their wives all about 
 their past lives; but Stiva," she corrected herself, . 
 "Stepan Arkadyevitch never told me any thing. You would 
 not believe it, but, up to the present time, I supposed that I 
 was the only woman with whom he was acquainted. Thus 
 I lived with him eight years. You see, I not only never sus- 
 pected him of being unfaithful to me, but I believed such a 
 thing to be impossible. And with such ideas, imagine how 
 I suffered when I suddenly learned all this horror all this 
 dastardliness. Understand me. To believe absolutely in 
 his honor," continued Doll}', struggling to keep back her 
 sobs, " and suddenly to find a letter, a letter from him to 
 his mistress, to the governess of my children. No : this is 
 too cruel!" She took her handkerchief , and hid her face. 
 " I might have been able to admit a moment of temptation," 
 she continued, after a moment's pause ; " but this hypocrisy, 
 this continual attempt to deceive me And for whom? 
 It is frightful : you cannot comprehend." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I comprehend : 1 comprehend, my poor Dolly," 
 said Anna, squeezing her hand. 
 
 " And do you imagine that he appreciates all the horror 
 of my situation?" continued Dolly. "Certainly not: he is 
 happy and contented." 
 
 "Oh, no ! " interrupted Anna warmly. " He is thoroughly 
 repentant : he is filled with remorse " 
 
 " Is he capable of remorse? " demanded Dolly, scrutinizing 
 her sister-in-law's face. 
 
 "Yes: I know him. I could not look at him without 
 feeling sorry for him. We both of us know him. He is 
 kind ; but he is proud, and now how humiliated ! What 
 touched me most [Anna knew well enough that this would 
 touch Doll}* also] are the two things that pained him : In 
 the first place, the children ; and secondly, because, lov- 
 ing you, yes. yes, loving you more than any one else in 
 the world," she added vehemently, to prevent Dolly from 
 interrupting her, "he has wounded you grievously, has 
 almost killed you. ' No, no, she will never forgive me! ' he 
 repeats all the time." 
 
 Dolly looked straight beyond her sister, but listened to 
 what she was saying. 
 
 " Yes, I comprehend what he suffers. The guilty suffers
 
 78 ANNA KAKfiNINA. 
 
 more than the innocent, if he knows that he is the cause of 
 all the trouble. But how can I forgive him? How can 1 be 
 his wife after To live with him henceforth would be all 
 the greater torment, because I still love what I used to love 
 in him " And the sobs prevented her from speaking. 
 
 But after she had become a little calmer, the subject which 
 hurt her most cruelly involuntarily recurred to her thoughts. 
 
 "She is young, you see, she is pretty," she went on to 
 say. " To whom have I sacrificed my youthfulness, my 
 beauty ? For him and his children ! I have served my day, 
 I have given him the best that I had ; and now, naturally, 
 some one younger and fresher than I am is more pleasing to 
 him. They have, certainly, discussed me between them, 
 or, worse, have insulted me with their silence." 
 
 And again her eyes expressed her jealous}'. 
 
 " And after this will he tell me? . . . and could I believe 
 it? No, never! it is all over, all that gave me recompense 
 for my sufferings, for my sorrows. . . . Would you believe 
 it? just now I was teaching Grisha. It used to be a pleas- 
 ure to me ; now it is a torment. Why should I take the 
 trouble? Why have I children ? It is terrible, because my 
 whole soul is in revolt ; instead of love, tenderness, I am filled 
 with nothing but hate, yes, hate ! I could kill him and " 
 
 " Diishenka I Dolly! I understand you ; but don't tor- 
 ment yourself so ! You are too excited, too angry to see 
 things in their right light." Dolly grew calmer, and for a 
 few moments not a word was said. 
 
 " What is to be done, Anna? Consider and help me. I 
 have thought of every thing, but I cannot see any help." 
 
 Anna herself did not see any, but her heart responded to 
 every word, to every sorrowful gesture of her sister-in-law. 
 
 " I will tell you one thing," said she at last. " I am his 
 sister, and I know his character, his peculiarity, of forgetting 
 every thing [she touched her forehead] this peculiarity 
 of his which is so conducive to sudden temptation, but also 
 to repentance. At the present moment, he does not under- 
 stand how it was possible for him to have done what he 
 did." 
 
 " Not so! He does understand and he did understand," 
 interrupted Dolly. "But I? you forget me: does that 
 make the pain less for me? " 
 
 "Wait! when he made his confession to me, I acknowl- 
 edge that I did not appreciate the whole extent of your suf-
 
 ANNA KARNINA* 79 
 
 fering. I only saw one thing, the disruption of the family. 
 I was grieved ; but after talking with you, I, as a woman, 
 look upon it in a very different light. I see your grief, and 
 I cannot tell you how sorry I am. But, Dolly, diishenka, 
 while I appreciate your misfortune there is one thing which I 
 do not know : I do not know I do not know to what degree 
 you still love him. You alone can tell whether you love him 
 enough to forgive him. If 3*011 do, then forgive him." 
 
 " No," began Dolly ; but Anna interrupted her again. 
 
 "I know the world better than you do," she said. "I 
 know how such men as Stiva look on these things. You say 
 that they have discussed you between them. Don't you 
 believe it. These men can be unfaithful to their marriage 
 vows, but their homes and their wives remain no less sacred 
 in their eyes. They draw between these women whom at 
 heart they despise and their families, a line of demarcation, 
 which is never crossed. I cannot understand how it can be, 
 but so it is." 
 
 " Yes, but he has kissed her " 
 
 "Listen, Dolly, dushenka! I saw Stiva when he was in 
 love with thee. I remember the time when he used to come 
 to me and talk about thee with tears in his eyes. I know to 
 what a poetic height he raised thee, and 1 know that the 
 longer he lived with thee the more he admired thee. We 
 always have smiled at his habit of saying at every opportu- 
 nity, ' Doll;/ is an extraordinary woman.' You have been, 
 and you always will be, an object of adoration in his eyes, 
 and this passion is not a defection of his heart " 
 
 " But supposing it should begin again? " 
 
 " It is impossible, as I think " 
 
 " Yes, but would you have forgiven him? " 
 
 " I don't know : I can't say. Yes, I could," said Anna 
 after a moment's thought and weighing the gravity of the 
 situation. " I could, I could, I could ! Yes, I could forgive 
 him, but I should not be the same ; but I should forgive him, 
 and I should forgive him in such a way as to show that the 
 past was forgotten, absolutely forgotten." 
 
 "JVz/ of course," interrupted Dolly impetuously, as 
 though Anna hud spoken her own thought "otherwise it 
 would not be forgiveness. If you forgive, it must be ab- 
 solutely, absolutely. JNu ! let me show you to your room," 
 said she, rising, and throwing her arm around her sister-in- 
 law.
 
 80 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 " My dear, how glad I am that you came. My heart is 
 already lighter, much lighter." 
 
 XX. 
 
 ANNA spent the whole day at home, that is to say, with the 
 Oblonskys, and excused herself to all visitors, who, having 
 learned of her arrival, came to see her. The whole morning 
 was given to Dolly and the children. She sent word to her 
 brother that he must dine at home. " Come, God is merci- 
 ful," was her message. 
 
 Oblonsky accordingly dined at home. The conversation 
 was general ; and his wife, when she spoke to him, called him 
 tui (thou), which had not been the case before. The rela- 
 tions between husband and wife remained cool, but nothing 
 more was said about a separation, and Stepau Arkadyevitch 
 saw the possibility of a reconciliation. 
 
 Kitty came in soon after dinner. Her acquaintance with 
 Anna Arkady evna was very slight, and she was not without 
 solicitude as to the welcome which she would receive from 
 this great Petersburg lady whose praise was in everybody's 
 mouth. But she soon felt that she had made a pleasing 
 impression on Anna Arkadyevna, who was impressed with 
 her youth and beauty, and she, on her part, immediately fell 
 under the charm of Anna's gracious manner, as young girls 
 do when brought into relations with women older than them- 
 selves. Besides, there was nothing about Anna which sug- 
 gested a society woman or the mother of an eight-year-old 
 son ; but to see her graceful form, her fresh and animated 
 face, one would have guessed that she was a young lady of 
 twenty, had not a serious and sometimes almost melancholy 
 expression, which struck and attracted Kitty, come into her 
 eyes. 
 
 Kitty felt that she was perfectly natural and' sincere, but 
 she did not deny that there was something about her that 
 suggested a whole world of complicated and poetic interest 
 far beyond her comprehension. 
 
 After dinner Dolly went back to her room, and Anna arose 
 and went eagerly to her "brother who was smoking a cigar. 
 
 " Stiva," said she, glancing towards the door, and mak- 
 ing the sign of the cross, " go, and God help you." 
 
 He understood her, and, throwing away his cigar, dis- 
 appeared behind the door.
 
 ANNA KARNINA. 81 
 
 As soon as he had gone, Anna sat down upon a sofa sur- 
 rounded by the children. 
 
 Either because they saw that their mamma loved this new 
 aunt, or because they themselves felt a drawing to her, the 
 two eldest, and therefore the younger, in the imitative manner 
 of children, had taken possession of her even before dinner, 
 and now they were enjoying the rivalry of getting next to 
 her, of holding her hand, of kissing her, of playing with her 
 rings, or of hanging to her dress. 
 
 " Nn! Nu! let us sit as we were before," said Anna, tak- 
 ing her place. 
 
 And Grisha, proud and delighted, thrust his head under 
 his aunt's hand, and laid it on her knees. 
 
 " And when is the ball? " she asked of Kitty. 
 
 "To-night! it will be a lovely ball, one of those balls 
 where one always has a good time." 
 
 " Then there are places where one alwa3's has a good 
 time? " asked Anna in a tone of gentle irony. 
 
 ki Strange, but it is so. We always enjoy ourselves at the 
 Bobrishchefs and at the Nikitins, but at the Mezhkofs it is 
 always dull. Haven't you ever noticed that? " 
 
 " No, dusha [my soul], no ball could be amusing to me ; " 
 and again Kitty saw in her eyes that unknown world, which 
 had not yet been revealed to her. " For me they are all 
 more or less tiresome." 
 
 " How could you find a ball tiresome? " 
 
 " And why should not / find a ball tiresome? " 
 
 Kitty perceived that Anna foresaw what her answer would 
 be, 
 
 ' ' Because }"ou are always the loveliest of all ! " 
 
 Anna blushed easily : she blushed now, and said, 
 
 " In the first place, that is not true ; and in the second, if 
 it were, it would not make any difference." 
 
 " Won't you go to this ball? " asked Kitty. 
 
 "I think that I would rather not go. Here! take this," 
 said she to Tania, who was amusing herself by drawing off 
 her rings from her delicate white fingers. 
 
 " I should be delighted if you would go : I should like to 
 see you at a ball." 
 
 " Well, if I have to go, I shall console myself with the 
 thought that I am making you happy. Grisha, don't pull 
 my hair down! it is disorderly enough now," said she, ad- 
 justing the net with which the lad was playing.
 
 82 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 " I should imagine you at a ball dressed in violet." 
 
 " Why in violet?" asked Anna, smiling. " Nu! children, 
 run away, run away. Don't you hear? Miss Hull is calling 
 you to tea," said she, sending the children out to the dining- 
 room. 
 
 "I know why you want me to go to the ball. You ex- 
 pect something wonderful to happen at this ball, and you 
 are anxious for us all to be there.*' 
 
 " How did you know? You are right ! " 
 
 " Oh, what a lovely age is ours ! " continued Anna. " I 
 remember well that purple haze which resembles that which 
 you see hanging over the mountains in Switzerland. This 
 haze covers every thing in that delicious time when child- 
 hood ends, and through it every thing looks beautiful and 
 joyous. And then, by and by appears a footpath which 
 leads up to those heights, where every thing is bright and 
 beautiful. Who has not passed through it? " 
 
 Kitty listened and smiled. " How did she pass through 
 it? How I should like to know the whole romance of her 
 life ! " thought Kitty, remembering the uupoetic appearance 
 of her husband, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch. 
 
 " I know a thing or two," continued Anna. " Stiva told 
 me, and I congratulate you : lie pleased me very much. I 
 met Vronsky this morning, at the station." 
 
 "Ach! was he there?" asked Kitty, blushing. "What 
 did Stiva tell you ? ' ' 
 
 " Stiva told me the whole story ; and I should be de- 
 lighted ! I came from Petersburg with Vronsky 's mother," 
 she continued; "and his mother never ceased to speak of 
 him. He is her favorite. I know how partial mothers are, 
 but" 
 
 " What did his mother tell you? " 
 
 " Ach! many things ; and I know that he is her favorite. 
 But still, he has a chivalrous nature. Nu! for example, 
 she told me how he wanted to give up his whole fortune to 
 his brother ; how he did something still more wonderful when 
 he was a boy saved a woman from drowning. In a word, 
 he is a hero ! " said Anna, smiling, and remembering the two 
 hundred rubles which he had given at the station. 
 
 But she did not tell about the two hundred rubles. The 
 memory of it was not entirely satisfactory, for she felt that 
 his action concerned herself too closely. 
 
 "The countess urged me to come to see her," continued
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 83 
 
 Anna, " and I should be very happy to meet her again and 
 I will go to-morrow. Thank the Lord, Stiva remains a long 
 time with Dolly in the library," she added, changing the 
 subject, and, as Kitty perceived, looking a little vexed. 
 
 " I'll be the first. No, I," cried the children, who had 
 just finished their supper, and came running to their aunt 
 Anna. 
 
 " All together," she said, laughing, and running to meet 
 them. She seized them and piled them in a heap, struggling 
 and screaming with delight. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 AT tea-time Dolly came out of her room. Stepan Arkad- 
 yevitch was not with her : he had left his wife's chamber by 
 the rear door. 
 
 "I am afraid you will be cold up-stairs," said Dolly, ad- 
 dressing Anna. " I should like to have you come down and 
 be near me." 
 
 "Ach! don't worry about me, I beg of you," repiied 
 Anna, trying to divine by Dolly's face if there had been a 
 reconciliation. 
 
 "Perhaps it would be too light for you here," said her 
 sister-in-law. 
 
 " I assure you, I sleep anywhere and everywhere as sound 
 as a woodchuck." 
 
 "What is it?" asked Stepan Arkadyevitch, coming in, 
 and addressing his wife. 
 
 By the tone of his voice, both Kitty and Anna knew that 
 the reconciliation had taken place. 
 
 " I wanted to install Anna here, but we should have to 
 put up some curtains. No one knows how to do it, and so I 
 must," said Dolly, in reply to her husband's question. 
 
 "God knows if they have made up," thought Anna, as 
 she noticed Dolly's cold and even tone. 
 
 " Ach! don't, Dolh', don't make mountains out of mole- 
 hills ! Nu! if you like, I will fix ever3" thing " 
 
 " Yes," thought Anna, " it must have been settled." 
 
 " I know how you fix things," said Dolly, with a mocking 
 smile : " you give Matve an order which he does not under- 
 stand, and then you go out, and he gets every thing into a 
 tangle."
 
 84 ANNA KAIltfNINA, 
 
 " Complete, complete reconciliation, complete," thought 
 Anna. " Thank God ! " and, rejoicing that she had accom- 
 plished her purpose, she went up to Dolly and kissed her. 
 
 "Not by any means. Why have you such scorn for 
 Matve and me?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch to his wife 
 with an almost imperceptible smile. 
 
 Throughout the evening Dolly, as usual, was lightly ironi- 
 cal towards her husband, and he was happy and gay, but 
 within bounds, and as though he wanted to make it evident 
 that even if he had obtained pardon he had not forgotten 
 his sins. 
 
 About half-past nine a particularly animated and pleasant 
 conversation was going on at the tea-table, when an inci- 
 dent occurred that, apparently of the slightest importance, 
 seemed to each member of the family to be very strange. 
 
 They were talking about some one of their acquaintances 
 in St. Petersburg, when Anna suddenly arose. 
 
 "I have her picture in my album," she said; "and at 
 the same time I will show you my little Serozha," she added, 
 with a smile of maternal pride. 
 
 It was usually about ten o'clock when she bade her son 
 good-night. Oftentimes she herself put him to bed be fore- 
 she went out to parties, and now she felt a sensation of 
 sadness to be so far from him. No matter what she was 
 speaking about, her thoughts reverted alwaj'S to her little 
 curly-haired Serozha, and the desire seized her to go and 
 look at his picture, and to talk about him. She immediately 
 left the room with her light, decided step. The stairs to her 
 room started from the landing-place in the large staircase, 
 which led from the heated hall. Just as she went after the 
 album the front door-bell rang. 
 
 " Who can that be? " said Dolly. 
 
 " It is too early to come after me, and too late for a call," 
 remarked Kitty. 
 
 "Doubtless somebody with papers forme," said Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch. 
 
 As Anna came down towards the staircase she saw the 
 servant going to announce a visitor, while the latter stood in 
 the light of the hall-lamp, and was waiting. Anna leaned 
 over the railing, and saw that it was Vronsky. A strange 
 sensation of joy, mixed with terror, suddenly seized her 
 heart. He was standing with his coat on, and was searching 
 his pockets for something. At the moment that Anna
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 85 
 
 reached the central staircase, he lifted his eyes, perceived 
 her, and his face assumed an expression of humility and 
 confusion. She bowed her head slightly in salutation ; and 
 as she descended, she heard Stepan Arkadyevitch' s loud 
 voice calling him to come in, and then Vronsky's low, soft, 
 and tranquil voice excusing himself. 
 
 When Anna reached the room with the album, he had 
 gone, and Stepan Arkadyevitch was telling how he came to 
 see about a dinner which they were going to give the next 
 day in honor of some celebrity who was in town. 
 
 "And nothing would induce him to come in. What a 
 queer fellow ! " said Stepan Arkadyevitch. 
 
 Kitty blushed. She thought that she alone understood 
 what he had come for, and why he would not come in. 
 " He must have been at our house," she thought, " and not 
 finding any one, have supposed that I was here ; but he did 
 not come in because it was late and Anna here." 
 
 Everybody exchanged glances, but nothing was said, and 
 they began to examine Anna's album. 
 
 There was nothing extraordinary in a man coming about 
 half-past nine o'clock in the evening to ask information of a 
 friend, and not coming in ; yet to everybody it seemed 
 strange, and it seemed more strange and unpleasant to Anna 
 than to anybody else. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 THE ball was just beginning when Kitty and her mother 
 mounted the grand staircase brilliantly lighted and adorned 
 with flowers, on which stood powdered lackeys in red livery. 
 From the ante-room, as they were giving the last touches to 
 their toilets before a mirror, they could hear a noise like the 
 humming of a bee-hive and the scraping of violins as the 
 orchestra was tuning up for the first waltz. 
 
 A little old man who was laboriously arranging his thin 
 white locks at another mirror, and who exhaled a penetrating 
 odor of perfumes, looked at Kitty with admiration. He 
 had climbed the staircase with them, and allowed them to 
 pass before him. A beardless young man, such as the old 
 Prince Shcherbatsky would have reckoned among the sim- 
 pletons, wearing a very low-cut vest and a white necktie 
 which he adjusted as he walked, bowed to them, and then 
 came to ask Kitty for a quadrille. The first dance was
 
 86 ANNA KAIifiNlNA. 
 
 already promised to Vronsky, and so she was obliged to 
 content the young man with the second. An officer button- 
 ing his gloves was standing near the door of the ball-room : 
 he cast a glance of admiration at Kitty, and caressed his 
 mustache. 
 
 Kitty had been greatly exercised by her toilet, her dress, 
 and all the preparations for this ball ; but no one would have 
 imagined such a thing to see her enter the ball-room in her 
 complicated robe of tulle with its rose-colored overdress. 
 She wore her ruches and her laces so easily and naturally 
 that one might almost believe that she had been born in this 
 lace-trimmed ball-dress, and with a rose placed on the 
 top of her graceful head. Kitty was looking her prettiest. 
 Her dress was not too tight ; her rosettes were just as she 
 liked to have them, and did not pull off; her rose-col- 
 ored slippers with their high heels did not pinch her, but 
 were agreeable to her feet. All the buttons on her long 
 gloves which enveloped and enhanced the beauty of her 
 hands fastened easily, and did not tear. The black velvet 
 ribbon, attached to a medallion, was thrown daintily about 
 her neck. This ribbon was charming ; and at home, as 
 she saw it in her mirror adorning her neck, Kitty felt that 
 this ribbon spoke. Every thing else might be dubious, but 
 this ribbon was charming. Kitty smiled, even there at the 
 ball, as she saw it in the mirror. As she saw her shoulders 
 and her arms, Kitty felt a sensation of marble coolness 
 which pleased her. Her eyes shone and her rosy lips could 
 not refrain from smiling with the consciousness of how 
 charming she was. 
 
 She had scarcely entered the ball-room and joined a group 
 of ladies covered with tulle, ribbons, lace, and flowers, who 
 were waiting for partners. Kitty did not belong to the 
 number, when she was invited to waltz with the best dancer, 
 the principal cavalier in the whole hierarchy of the ball-room, 
 the celebrated leader of the mazurka, the master of ceremo- 
 nies, the handsome, elegant Yegorushka Korsunsky, a mar- 
 ried man. He had just left the Countess Bonina, with whom 
 he opened the ball, and as soon as he perceived Kitty, he made 
 his way to her in that easy manner peculiar to leaders of the 
 mazurka, and without even asking her permission put his arm 
 around the young girl's slender waist. She looked for some 
 one to whom to confide her fan ; and the mistress of the 
 mansion, smiling upon her, took charge of it.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 87 
 
 " How good of you to come early," said Korsunsky. " I 
 don't like the fashion of being late." 
 
 Kitty placed her left hand on her partner's shoulder, and 
 her little feet, shod in rose-colored bashmaks, glided lightly 
 and rhythmically over the polished floor. 
 
 "It is restful to dance with you," said he as he fell into 
 the slow measures of the waltz : " charming ! such lightness ! 
 such precision ! " This is what he said to almost all his 
 dancing acquaintances. 
 
 Kitty smiled at this eulogium, and continued to study the 
 ball-room across her partner's shoulder. This was not her 
 first appearance in society, and she did not confound all 
 faces in one magic sensation, nor was she so surfeited with 
 balls as to know every one present, and be tired of seeing 
 them. She noticed a group that had gathered in the left- 
 hand corner of the ball-room, composed of the very flowers 
 of society. There was Korsunsky's wife, Lidi, a beauty in 
 outrageously low-cut corsage ; there was the mistress of the 
 mansion ; there was Krivin with shiny bald head, who was 
 always to be seen where the cream of society was gathered. 
 There also were gathered the young men looking on, and not 
 venturing upon the floor. Her eyes fell upon Stiva. and then 
 she saw Anna's elegant figure dressed in black velvet. And 
 he was there. Kitty had not seen him since the evening 
 when she refused Levin. Kitty discovered him from afar, 
 and saw that he was looking at her. 
 
 " Shall we have one more turn? You are not fatigued? " 
 asked Korsunsky, slightly out of breath. 
 
 " lS r o, thank you." 
 
 " "Where shall I leave you? " 
 
 " I think Madame Kardnina is here ; take me to her." 
 
 " Anywhere that you please." 
 
 And Korsunsky, still waltzing with Kitty but with a slower 
 step, made his way toward the group on the left, saying as 
 he went, u Pardon, mesdames ; pardon, pardon, mesdames ; " 
 and steering skilfully through the sea of laces, tulle, and rib- 
 bons, placed her in a chair after a final turn, which gave a 
 glimpse of dainty blue stockings, and threw her train over 
 Krivin's knees, half burying him under a cloud of tulle. 
 
 Korsunsky bowed, then straightened himself up, and offered 
 Kitty his arm to conduct her to Anna Arkadyevna. Kitty, 
 blushing a little, freed Krivin from the folds of her train 1 
 and, just a trifle dizzy, went iu search of Madame Kareniua.
 
 88 ANNA KAJttiNINA. 
 
 Anna was not dressed in violet, as Kitty had hoped, but in a 
 low-cut black velvet gown, which showed her ivory shoulders, 
 her beautiful round arms, and her dainty wrists. Her robe 
 was adorned with Venetian guipure ; on her head, gracefully 
 set on her dark locks, was a wreath of mignonette ; and a 
 similar bouquet was fastened in her breast with a black rib- 
 bon. Her hair was dressed very simply : there was nothing 
 remarkable about it except the abundance of little natural 
 curls, which strayed in fascinating disorder about her neck and 
 temples. She wore a string of pearls about her firm round 
 throat. Kitty had seen Anna every day, and was delighted 
 with her; but now that she saw her dressed in black, instead 
 of the violet which she had expected, she thought that she 
 never before had appreciated her full beaut}'. She saw her 
 in a new and unexpected light. She confessed that violet 
 would not have been becoming to her, but that her charm 
 consisted entirely in her independence of toilet ; that her 
 toilet was only an accessory, and her black robe showing her 
 splendid shoulders was only the frame in which she appeared 
 simple, natural, elegant, and at the same time full of gayety 
 and animation. When Kitty joined her, she was standing in 
 her usual erect attitude, talking with the master of the house, 
 her head lightly bent towards him. 
 
 " No : I would not cast the first stone," she was saying to 
 him, and then, perceiving Kitty, she received her with an 
 affectionate and re-assuring smile. With a quick, compre- 
 hensive glance, she approved of the young girl's toilet, and 
 gave her an appreciative nod, which Kitty understood. 
 
 "You even dance into the ball-room," she said. 
 
 " She is the most indefatigable of my aids," said Korsun- 
 sky, addressing Anna Arkady evna. "The princess makes 
 any ball-room gay and delightful. Anna Arkadyevna, will 
 you take a turn? " he asked, with a bow. 
 
 " Ah ! you are acquainted? " said the host. 
 
 " Who is it we don't know, my wife and I? We are like 
 white wolves, everybody knows us," replied Korsunsky. 
 " A little waltz, Anna Arkadyevna? " 
 
 " I don't dance when I can help it," she replied. 
 
 " But you can't help it to-night." said Korsunsky. 
 
 At this moment Vrousky joined them. 
 
 "Nu! if I can't help dancing, let us dance," said she, 
 placing her hand on Korsuusky's shoulder, and not replying 
 to Vronsky's salutation.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 89 
 
 "Why is she vexed with him?" thought Kitty, noticing 
 that Anna purposely paid no attention to Vronsky's bow. 
 Vronsky joined Kitty, reminded her that she was engaged to 
 him for the first quadrille, and expressed regret that he had 
 not seen her for so long. Kitty, while she was looking with 
 admiration at Anna in the mazes of the waltz, listened to 
 Vronsky. She expected that he would invite her ; but he did 
 nothing of the sort, and she looked at him with astonishment. 
 He blushed, and with some precipitation suggested that they 
 should waltz ; but they had scarcely taken the first step, 
 when suddenly the music stopped. Kitty looked into his 
 face, which was close to her own, and for many a long day, 
 even after years had passed, the loving look which she gave 
 him and which he did not return tore her heart with cruel 
 shame. 
 
 " Pardon! Pardon! A waltz ! a waltz ! " cried Korsunsky 
 at the other end of the ball-room, and, seizing the first young 
 lady at hand, he began once more to dance. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 VRONSKY took a few turns with Kitty, then she joined her 
 mother ; and after a word or two with the Countess Nord- 
 stoue, Vronsky came back to get her for the first quadrille. 
 In the intervals of the dance they talked of unimportant tri- 
 fles, now of Korsunsky and his wife whom Vronsky described 
 as amiable children of forty years, now of some private the- 
 atricals ; and only once did his words give her a keen pang, 
 when he asked if Levin were there, and added that he liked 
 him very much. But Kitty counted little on the quadrille : 
 it was the mazurka which she waited for, with a violent beat- 
 ing of the heart. She had been told that the mazurka gen- 
 erally settled all such questions. Though Vronsky did not 
 ask her during the quadrille, she felt sure that she would be 
 selected as his partner for the mazurka as in all preceding 
 balls. She was so sure of it that she refused five invita- 
 tions, saying that she was engaged. This whole ball, even 
 to the last quadrille, seemed to Kitty like a magical dream, 
 full of flowers, of joyous sounds, of movement : she did not 
 cease to dance until her strength began to fail, and then she 
 begged to rest a moment. But in dancing the last quadrille 
 with one of those tiresome men whom she found it impossible
 
 90 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 to refuse, she found herself vis-a-vis to Vronsky and Anna. 
 Kitty had not fallen in with Anna since the beginning of the 
 ball, and now she suddenly seemed to her in another new and 
 unexpected light. She seemed laboring under an excitement 
 such as Kitty herself had experienced, that of success, 
 which seemed to intoxicate her as though she had partaken 
 too freely of wine. Kitty understood the sensation, and rec- 
 ognized the symptoms in Anna's brilliant and animated eyes, 
 her joyous and triumphant smile, her parted lips, a'nd her 
 harmonious and graceful movements. 
 
 " Who has caused it? " she asked herself. " All, or one? " 
 She would not come to the aid of her unhappy partner, who 
 was struggling to renew the broken thread of conversation ; 
 and though she submitted with apparent good grace to the 
 loud orders of Korsunsky, shouting "Ladies' chain" and 
 "All hands around," she watched her closely, and her heart 
 oppressed her more and more. " No, it is not the approval 
 of the crowd which has so intoxicated her, but the admira- 
 tion of the one. Who is it? Can it be he? " Every time 
 that Vronsky spoke to Anna, her eyes sparkled, and a smile 
 of happiness parted her ruby lips. She seemed anxious to 
 hide this joy, but nevertheless happiness was painted on her 
 face. " Can it be he? " thought Kitty. She looked at him, 
 and was horror-struck. The sentiments that were reflected 
 on Anna's face as in a mirror, were also visible on his. 
 Where were his coolness, his calm dignity, the repose which 
 always marked his face? Now, as he addressed his partner, 
 his head bent as though he were ready to worship her. and 
 his look expressed at once humility and passion, as though 
 it said, " / would not offend you. I would save my heart, and 
 how can I? " Such was the expression of his face, and she 
 had never before seen it in him. 
 
 Their conversation was made up of trifles, and yet Kitty 
 felt that every trifling word decided her fate. Strange as it 
 might seem, they, too, in jesting about Ivan Ivanitch's droll 
 French and of Miss Eletska's marriage, found in every word 
 a peculiar meaning which they understood as well as Kitty. 
 
 In the poor girl's mind, the ball, the whole evening, every 
 thing, seemed enveloped in mist. Only the force of her 
 education sustained her, and enabled her to do her duty, 
 that is to say, to dance, to answer questions, even to smile. 
 But as soon as the mazurka began, and the chairs had been 
 arranged, and the smaller rooms were all deserted in favor of
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 91 
 
 the great ball-room, a sudden attack of despair and terror 
 seized her. She had refused five invitations, she had no 
 partner ; and the last chance was gone, for the very reason 
 that her social success would make it unlikely to occur to 
 any one that she would be without a partner. She would 
 have to tell her mother that she was not feeling well, and go 
 home, but it seemed impossible. She felt as though she 
 would sink through the floor. 
 
 She took refuge in a corner of a boudoir, and threw her- 
 self into an arm-chair. The airy skirts of her robe enveloped 
 her delicate figure as in a cloud. One bare arm, as yet a 
 little thin, but dainty, fell without energy, and lay in the 
 folds of her rose-colored skirt : with the other she fanned 
 herself nervously. But while she looked like a lovely butter- 
 fly caught amid grasses, and read}- to spread its trembling 
 wings, a horrible despair oppressed her heart. 
 
 " But perhaps I am mistaken : perhaps it is not so." And 
 again she recalled what she had seen. 
 
 "Kitty, what docs this mean? " said the Countess Nord- 
 stone, coming to her with noiseless steps. 
 
 Kitty's lips quivered : she hastily arose. 
 
 " Kitty, aren't you dancing the mazurka? " 
 
 "No, no," she replied, with trembling voice. 
 
 " I heard him invite her for the mazurka," said the count- 
 ess, knowing that Kitty would know whom she meant. " She 
 said, ' What! aren't you going to dance with the Princess 
 Shcherbatskaia?' " 
 
 " Ach! it's all one to me," said Kitty. 
 
 No one besides herself should learn of her trouble. No one 
 should know that she had refused a man whom perhaps she 
 loved, refused him because she preferred some one else. 
 
 The countess went in search of Korsunskj', who was her 
 partner for the mazurka, and sent him to invite Kitty. 
 
 Fortunately, Kitty, who danced in the first figure, was not 
 obliged to talk : Korsunsky, in his quality of leader, was 
 obliged to be ubiquitous. Vronsky and Anna were nearly 
 opposite to her : she saw them sometimes near, sometimes 
 at a distance, as their turn brought them into the figures ; 
 and as she watched them, she felt more and more certain 
 that her cup of sorrow was full. She saw that they felt them- 
 selves alone even in the midst of the crowded room ; and on 
 Vronsky's face, usually so impassive and calm, she remarked 
 that mingled expression of humility and fear, such as strikes
 
 02 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 one in an intelligent clog, conscious of having done wrong. 
 If Anna smiled, his smile replied : if she became thoughtful, 
 he looked serious. An almost supernatural power seemed 
 to attract Kitty's gaze to Anna's face. She was charming 
 in her simple black velvet ; charming were her round arms, 
 clasped by bracelets ; charming her exquisite neck, encircled 
 with pearls ; charming her dark, curly locks breaking from 
 restraint ; charming the slow and graceful movements of her 
 feet and hands ; charming her lovely face, full of animation ; 
 but in all this charm there was something terrible and cruel. 
 
 Kitty admired her more than ever, even while her pain 
 increased. She felt crushed, and her face told the story. 
 When Vronsky passed her, in some figure of the mazurka, 
 he hardly knew her, so much had she changed. 
 
 " Lovely ball," he said, so as to say something. 
 
 " Yes," was her reply. 
 
 Towards the middle of the mazurka, in a complicated fig- 
 ure recently invented by Korsunsky, Anna was obliged to 
 leave the circle, and call out two gentlemen and two ladies : 
 Kitty was one. She looked at Anna, and approached her 
 with dismay. Anna, half shutting her eyes, looked at her 
 with a smile, and pressed her hand ; then noticing the ex- 
 pression of melancholy surprise on Kitty's face, she turned 
 to the other lady, and began to talk to her in animated tones. 
 
 "Yes, there is some terrible, almost infernal attraction 
 about her," said Kitty to herself. 
 
 Anna did not wish to remain to supper, but the host in- 
 sisted. 
 
 " Do stay, Anna Arkadj^evna," said Korsunsky, touching 
 her on the arm. " Such a cotillion I have in mind! Un 
 bijou! " [A jewel]. 
 
 And the master of the house, looking on with a smile, 
 encouraged his efforts to detain her. 
 
 "No, I cannot stay," said Anna, also smiling; but in 
 spite of her smile the two men understood by the determina- 
 tion in her voice that she would not stay. 
 
 " No, for I have danced here in Moscow at this single ball 
 more than all winter in Petersburg ; " and she turned towards 
 Vronsky, who was standing near her: "one must rest 
 after a journey." 
 
 " And so you must go back to-morrow? " he said. 
 
 "Yes: I think so," replied Anna, as though surprised at 
 the boldness of his question. But while she was speaking
 
 ANNA KARNINA. 93 
 
 to him, the brilliancy of her eyes and her smile set his heart 
 on fire. 
 
 Anna Arkadyevna did not stay for supper, but took her 
 departure. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " YES, there must be something repulsive about me," 
 thought Levin, as he left the Shcherbatskys, and went in 
 search of his brother. ' k I am not popular with men. They 
 say it is pride. No, I am not proud : if I had been proud, 
 I should not have put myself in my present situation." 
 And he imagined himself to be a happy, popular, calm, 
 witty Vronsky, with strength enough to avoid such a terrible 
 position as he had put himself into on that evening. " Yes, 
 she naturally chose him, and I have no right to complain 
 about any one or any thing. I am the only person to blame. 
 What right had I to think that she would unite her life with 
 mine? Who am I? and what am I? A man useful to no 
 one, a good-for-nothing." 
 
 Then the memory of his brother Nikolai' came back to 
 him. " A\ r as he not right in saying that every thing in this 
 world was miserable and wretched? Have we been just in 
 our judgment of brother Nikolai? Of course, in the eyes 
 of Prokofi, who saw him drunk and in ragged clothes, he is 
 a miserable creature ; but I judge him differently. I know 
 his heart, and I know that we are alike. And I, instead of 
 going to find him, have been out dining, and to this party ! " 
 Levin read his brother's address in the light of a street- 
 lamp, and called an izvoshchik (hack-driver). While on the 
 way, he recalled one by one the incidents of Nikolai's life. 
 He remembered how at the university, and for a year after 
 his graduation, he had lived like a monk notwithstanding the 
 ridicule of his comrades, strictly devoted to all the forms of 
 religion, services, fasts, turning his back on all pleasures, 
 and especially women, and then how he had suddenly turned 
 around, and fallen into the company of people of the low- 
 est lives, and entered upon a course of dissipation and 
 debauchery. He remembered his conduct towards a lad 
 whom he had taken from the country to bring up, and whom 
 he whipped so severely in a fit of anger that he narrowly 
 escaped being transported for mayhem. He remembered 
 his conduct towards a swindler whom he had given a bill of
 
 94 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 
 
 exchange in payment of a gambling debt, and whom he had 
 caused to be arrested : this was, in fact, the bill of exchange 
 which Sergei Ivanuitch had just paid. He remembered the 
 night spent by Nikolai at the station-house on account of a 
 spree ; the scandalous lawsuit against his brother Serg6i 
 Ivanuitch, because the latter had refused to pay his share of 
 their maternal inheritance ; and finally he recalled his last 
 adventure, when, having taken a position in one of the West- 
 ern governments, he was dismissed for assaulting a superior. 
 All this was detestable, but the impression on Levin was less 
 odious than it would be on those who did not know Nikolai', 
 did not know his history, did not know his heart. 
 
 Levin did not forget how at the time that Nikolai was 
 seeking to curb the evil passions of his nature by devotions, 
 fasting, prayers, and other religious observances, no one had 
 approved of it, or aided him, but how, on the contrary, every 
 one, even himself, had turned it into ridicule : they had 
 mocked him, nicknamed him Noah, the monk ! Then when 
 he had fallen, no one had helped him, but all had fled from 
 him with horror and disgust. Levin felt that his brother 
 Nikolai at the bottom of his heart, in spite of all the deform- 
 ity of his life, could not be so very much worse than those 
 who despised him. " I will go and find him, and tell him 
 every thing, and show him that I love him, and think about 
 him," said Levin to himself, and about eleven o'clock in the 
 evening he bade the driver take him to the hotel indicated on 
 the address. 
 
 "Up-stairs, No. 12 and 13," said the Swiss, in reply to 
 Levin's question. 
 
 "Is he at home?" 
 
 "Probably." 
 
 The door of No. 12 was ajar, and from the room came the 
 dense fumes of inferior tobacco. Levin heard an unknown 
 voice speaking ; then he recognized his brother's presence by 
 his cough. 
 
 When he entered the door, he heard the unknown voice 
 saying, "All depends upon whether the affair is conducted 
 in a proper and rational manner." 
 
 Konstantin Levin glanced through the doorwa}*, and saw 
 that the speaker was a young man, clad like a peasant, and 
 with an enormous shapka on his head. On the sofa was sit- 
 ting a young woman, with pock-marked face, and dressed in 
 a woollen gown without collar or cuffs. Konstantin' s heart
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 95 
 
 sank to think of the strange people with whom his brother 
 associated. No one heard him ; and while he was removing 
 his goloshes, he listened to what the man in the doublet said. 
 He was speaking of some enterprise under consideration. 
 
 "Nu! the Devil take the privileged classes!" said his 
 brother's voice, after a n't of coughing. 
 
 O O 
 
 " Masha, see if you can't get us something to eat, and 
 bring some wine if there's any left: if not, go for some." 
 
 The woman arose, and as she came out of the inner room, 
 she saw Konstantin. 
 
 " A gentleman here, Nikolai Dmitritch," she cried. 
 
 " What is wanted?" said the voice of Nikolai' Levin an- 
 grily- 
 
 " It's I," replied Konstantin, appearing at the door. 
 
 "Who's I? " repeated Nikolai's voice, still more angrily. 
 
 A sound of some one quickly rising and stumbling against 
 something, and then Konstantin saw his brother standing be- 
 fore him at the door, infirm, tall, thin, and bent, with great 
 startled eyes. He was still thinner than when Konstantin last 
 saw him, three years before. He wore a short overcoat. 
 His hands and his bony frame seemed to him more colossal 
 than ever. His hair was cut close, his mustaches stood out 
 straight from his lips, and his e} T es glared at his visitor with 
 a strange, uncanny light. 
 
 " Ah, Kostia ! " he cried, suddenly recognizing his brother, 
 and his eyes shone with joy. But in an instant he turned 
 towards his brother, and only made a quick, convulsive 
 motion of his head and neck, as though his cravat choked 
 him, a gesture well known to Konstantin, and at the same 
 time an entirely different expression, savage and cruel, swept 
 over his pinched features. 
 
 "I wrote both to you and to Sergei Tvanuitch that I do 
 not know you, nor wish to know you. What dost thou, what 
 do you, want? " 
 
 He was not at all such as Konstantin had imagined him. 
 The hard and wild elements of his character, which made 
 family relationship difficult, had faded from Konstantiu Lev- 
 in's memory whenever he thought about him ; and now when 
 he saw his face and the characteristic convulsive motions of 
 his head, he remembered it. 
 
 " But I wanted nothing of you except to see you," he 
 replied, a little timidly. ' I only came to see you." 
 
 His brother's diflideuce apparently disarmed Nikolai'.
 
 96 ANNA 
 
 "Ah! did you?" said he. "Nu! come in, sit down. 
 Do you want some supper? Masha, bring enough for three. 
 No, hold on ! Do you know who this is? " he asked, pointing 
 to the young man in the doublet. "This gentleman is Mr. 
 Kritsky, a friend of mine from Kief, a very remarkable man. 
 It seems the police are after him, because he is not a cow- 
 ard." And he looked, as he always did after speaking, at 
 all who were in the room. Then seeing that the woman, 
 who stood at the door, was about to leave, he shouted, 
 
 "Wait, I tell you." 
 
 Then with his blundering, ignorant mode of speech, which 
 Konstantin knew so well, he began to narrate the whole story 
 of Kritsky's life ; how he had been driven from the univer- 
 sity, because he had tried to found an aid society and Sun- 
 day schools among the students ; how afterwards he had 
 been appointed teacher in the primary school, only to be dis- 
 missed ; and how finally they had tried him for something or 
 other. 
 
 " Were you at the University of Kief? " asked Konstantin 
 of Kritsky, in order to break the awkward silence. 
 
 "Yes, at Kief," replied Kritsky curtly, with a frown. 
 
 " And this woman," cried Nikolai Levin, with a gesture, 
 " is the companion of my life, Marya Nikolayevna. I found 
 her," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "but I love her, 
 and I esteem her ; and all who want to know me, must love 
 her and esteem her. She is just the same as my wife, just 
 the same. Thus you know with whom you have to do. And 
 if you think that you lower yourself, there's the door ! " And 
 again his questioning eyes looked about the room. 
 
 "I do not understand how I should lower nryself." 
 
 "All right, Masha, bring us up enough for three, some 
 vodka and wine. No, wait ; no matter, though ; go ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 "As you see," continued Nikolai Levin, frowning, and 
 speaking with effort. So great was his agitation that he did 
 not know what to do or to say. " But do you see? " and he 
 pointed to the corner of the room where lay some iron bars 
 attached to straps. " Do you see that? That is the begin- 
 ning of a new work which we are undertaking. This work 
 belongs to a productive labor association."
 
 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 97 
 
 
 
 Konstantin scarcely listened : he was looking at his brother's 
 sick, consumptive face, and his pity grew upon him, and he 
 could not heed what his brother was saying about the labor 
 association. He saw that the work was only an anchor of 
 safety to keep him from absolute self-abasement. Nikolai' 
 went on to say, 
 
 " You know that capital is crushing the laborer : the labor- 
 ing classes with us are the muzhiks, and they bear the whole 
 weight of toil ; and no matter how they exert themselves, 
 they can never get above their condition of laboring cattle. 
 All the advantages that their productive labor creates, all 
 that could better their lot, give them leisure, and therefore 
 instruction, all their superfluous profits, are swallowed up 
 by the capitalists. And society is so constituted that the 
 harder they work, the more the proprietors and the merchants 
 fatten at their expense, while they remain beasts of burden 
 still. And this must be changed." He finished speaking, 
 and looked at his brother. 
 
 " Yes, of course," replied Konstantin, looking at the pink 
 spots which burned in his brother's hollow cheeks. 
 
 "And we are organizing an artel of locksmiths where all 
 will be in common, work, profits, and even the tools." 
 
 " Where will this artel be situated? " asked Konstantin. 
 
 " In the village of Vozdrem, government of Kazan." 
 
 " Yes, but why in a village? In the villages, it seems to 
 me, there is plenty of work : why associated locksmiths in a 
 village?" 
 
 " Because the muzhiks are serfs, just as much as they ever 
 were, and you and Serge" i Ivanuitch don't like it because we 
 want to free them from this slavery," replied Nikolai, vexed 
 by his brother's question. While he spoke, Konstantin was 
 looking about the melancholy, dirty room : he sighed, and 
 his sigh made Nikolai' still more angry. 
 
 " I know the aristocratic prejudices of such men as you 
 and Sergei Ivanuitch. I know that he is spending all the 
 strength of his mind in defence of the evils which crush us." 
 
 " No ! but why do you speak of Serge" i Ivanuitch? " asked 
 Levin, smiling. 
 
 " Serge"i Ivanuitch? This is why ! " cried Nikolai at the 
 mention of Serge" i Ivanuitch " this is why ! . . . yet what 
 is the good? tell me this what did you come here for? 
 You despise all this ; very good ! Go away, for God's sake," 
 he cried, rising from his chair, "go away ! go away ! "
 
 98 ANNA KAKtiNINA. 
 
 
 
 " I don't despise any thing," said Konstantin gently : " I 
 only refrain from discussing." 
 
 At this moment Mary a Nikolayevna came in. Nikolai' 
 turned towards her angrily, but she quickly stepped up to 
 him, and whispered a few words in his ear. 
 
 " I am not well, I easily become irritable," he explained, 
 calmer, and breathing with difficulty, " and you just spoke to 
 me about Sergei Ivanuitch and his article. It is so utterly 
 insane, so false, so full of error. How can a man, who 
 knows nothing about justice, write on the subject? Have 
 you read his article? " said he, turning to Kritsky, and then, 
 going to the table, he brushed off the half-rolled cigarettes. 
 
 " 1 have not read it," replied Kritsky with a gloomy face, 
 evidently not wishing to take part in the conversation. 
 
 " Why? " demanded Nikolai' irritably. 
 
 " Because I don't care to waste my time." 
 
 " That is, excuse me how do you know that it would be 
 a waste of time? For many people this article is un-rjet-at- 
 able, because it is above them. But I find it different : I see 
 the thoughts through and through, and know wherein it is 
 weak." 
 
 No one replied. Kritsky immediately arose, and took his 
 shapka. 
 
 "Won't you take some lunch? Nu! good-by ! Come 
 to-morrow with the locksmith." 
 
 Kritsky had hardly left the room, when Nikolai' smiled and 
 winked. 
 
 " He is to be pitied ; but I see " 
 
 Kritsky, calling at the door, interrupted him. 
 
 "What do you want?" he asked, joining him in the cor- 
 ridor. Left alone with Mary a Nikolayevna, Levin said to 
 her, 
 
 " Have you been long with my brother? " 
 
 " This is the second year. His health has become very 
 feeble : he drinks a great deal,' ' she said. 
 
 " What do you mean? " 
 
 " He drinks vodka, and it is bad for him." 
 
 " Does he drink too much? " 
 
 " Yes," said she, looking timidly towards the door where 
 Nikolai' Levin was just entering. 
 
 "What were you talking about?" he demanded with a 
 scowl, and looking from one to the other with angry eyes. 
 "Tell me."
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 99 
 
 " Oh ! nothing," replied Konstantin in confusion. 
 
 " You don't want to answer: till right! don't. But you 
 have no business to be talking with her : she is a girl, you a 
 gentleman," he shouted with the twitching of his neck. "I 
 see that you have understood ever}' thing, and judged every 
 thing, and that you look with scorn on the errors of my 
 ways." 
 
 He went on speaking, raising his voice. 
 
 "Nikolai Dmitritch ! Nikolai Dmitriteh ! " murmured 
 Marya Nikolayevna, coming close to him. 
 
 "Nut very good, very good. . . . Supper, then? ah! 
 here it is," he said, seeing a servant entering with a platter. 
 
 "Here! put it here! " he said crossly, then, taking the 
 vodka, he poured out a glass, and drank it eagerly. 
 
 "Will you have a drink?" he asked his brother. The 
 sudden cloud had passed. 
 
 " Nu! no more about Sergei Ivanuitch ! I am very glad 
 to see you. Henceforth people can't si\.y that we are not 
 friends. Nu! drink! Tell me what you are doing," he 
 said, taking a piece of bread, and pouring out a second glass. 
 " How do you live? " 
 
 " I live alone in the country as I alwa}-s have, and busy 
 myself with farming," replied Konstantiu, looking with ter- 
 ror at the eagerness with which his brother ate and drank, 
 and trying to hide his impressions. 
 
 " Why don't you get married? " 
 
 " I have not come to that yet," replied Konstantin, blush- 
 ing. 
 
 "Why so? For me it's all over! I have wasted my 
 life ! This I have said, and always shall say, that, if they 
 had given me my share of the estate when I needed it, my 
 whole life would have been different." 
 
 Konstantin hastened to change the conversation. " Did 
 you know that your Vaniushka [Jack] is with me at Pokrov- 
 sky as book-keeper? " he said. Nikolai's neck twitched, and 
 he sank into thought. 
 
 "Da! (Yes). Tell me what is doing at Pokrovsky. Is 
 the house just the same ? and the birches and our study-room ? 
 Is Filipp, the gardener^ still alive? How I remember the 
 summer-house and the sofa ! Da ! don't let any thing in 
 the house be changed, but get a wife right away, and begin 
 to live as you used to. I will come to visit you if you will 
 get a good wife."
 
 100 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 " Then come now with me," said Konstantin. "How well 
 we would get along together ! ' ' 
 
 " 1 would come if I weren't afraid of meeting Sergei Ivau- 
 uitch." 
 
 " You would not meet him : I live absolutely independent 
 of him." 
 
 "Yes; but whatever you say, you would have to choose 
 between him and me," said Nikolai, looking timorously in 
 his brother's eyes. This timidity touched Konstantin. 
 
 " If you want to hear my whole confession as to this mat- 
 ter, I will tell you that 1 take sides neither with you nor 
 with him in your quarrel. You are both in the wrong ; but 
 in your case the wrong is external, while in his the wrong is 
 inward." 
 
 "Ha, ha! Do you understand it? do you understand 
 it?" cried Nikolai with an expression of joy. 
 
 " But I, for my part, if you would like to know, value 
 your friendship higher because " 
 
 "Why? why?" 
 
 Konstantin could not say that it was because Nikolai was 
 sick, and heeded his friendship ; but Nikolai understood that 
 that was what he meant, and, frowning darkly, he betook 
 himself to the vodka. 
 
 "Enough, Nikolai Dmitritch ! " cried Marya Nikola- 
 yevna, laying her great pudgy hand on the decanter. 
 
 " Let me alone ! don't bother me, or I'll strike you," he 
 cried. 
 
 Marya Nikolayevna smiled with her gentle and good- 
 natured smile, which pacified NikolaY, and she took the 
 vodka. 
 
 "There! Do 3-011 think that she does not understand 
 things? " said Nikolai. " She understands this thing better 
 than all of you. Isn't there something about her good and 
 gentle?" 
 
 " Haven't you ever been in Moscow before? " said Kon- 
 stantin, in order to say something to her. 
 
 ".Do/ don't say vui [you] to her. It frightens her. No 
 one said vui to her except the justice of the peace, when 
 they had her up because she wanted to escape from the 
 house of ill fame where she was. My God ! how senseless 
 every thing is in this world ! " he suddenly exclaimed. " These 
 new institutions, these justices of the peace, the zemstoo, 
 what abominations ! "
 
 ANNA K All NINA. 101 
 
 And he began to relate his experiences with the new insti- 
 tutions. 
 
 Kunstantin listened to him ; and the criticisms on the 
 absurdity of the new institutions, which he had himself often 
 expressed, now that he heard them from his brother's lips, 
 seemed disagreeable to him. 
 
 "We shall find out all about it in the next world,' he 
 said jestingly. 
 
 " In the next world? Och! I don't like your next world, 
 I don't like it," he repeated, fixing his timid, haggard eyes 
 on his brother's face. " And }-et it would seem good to go 
 from these abominations, this chaos, from this unnatural state 
 of things, from one's self ; but I am afraid of death, horribly 
 afraid of death ! " He shuddered. " Da! drink something ! 
 Would you like some champagne ? or would you rather go 
 out somewhere? Let's go and see the gypsies. You know I 
 am very fond of gypsies and Russian folk-songs." 
 
 His speech grew thick, and he hurried from one subject 
 to another. Konstantin, with Masha's aid, persuaded him to 
 stay at home ; and they put him on his bed completely drunk. 
 
 Masha promised to write Koustantin in case of need, and 
 to persuade Nikolai Levin to come and live with his brother. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 THE next forenoon Levin left Moscow, and towards even- 
 ing was at home. On the journey he talked with the people 
 in the car about politics, about the new railroads, and, just 
 as in Moscow, he felt oppressed by the chaos of conflicting 
 opinions, weary of himself, and ashamed without knowing 
 why. But when he reached his station, and perceived his 
 one-eyed coachman, Ignat, in his kaftdii, with his collar above 
 his ears ; when he saw, in the flickering light cast by the dim 
 station-lamps, his covered sledge and his horses with their 
 neatly cropped tails and their jingling bells ; when Ignat, as 
 he tucked the robes comfortably around him, told him all the 
 news of the village, about the coming of the contractor, and 
 how Pava the cow had calved, then it seemed to him that 
 the chaos resolved itself a little, and his shame and dis- 
 satisfaction passed away. The very sight of Iguat and his 
 horses was a consolation ; but as soon as he had put on his 
 tulup (sheep-skin coat), which he found in the sleigh, and
 
 102 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 
 
 enscoucecl himself in his seat, and began to think what orders 
 he should have to give as soon he reached home, and at the 
 same time examined the off-horse, which used to be his saddle- 
 horse, a swift though broken-down steed, then, indeed, what 
 he had experienced came to him in an absolutely different 
 light. He felt himself again, and no longer wished to be 
 a different person. He only wished to be better than he had 
 ever been before. In the first place, he resolved from that 
 day forth that he would never look forward to extraordinary 
 joys, such as had led him to make his offer of marriage ; and, 
 in the second place, he would never allow himself to be led 
 away by low passion, the remembrances of which so shamed 
 him when he had made his proposal. And lastly he prom- 
 ised not to forget his brother Nikolai again, or let him out of 
 sight, and to go to his aid as soon as it seemed needful, and 
 that seemed likely to be very soon. Then the conversation 
 about communism, which he had so lightly treated with his 
 brother, came back to him, and made him reflect. A reform 
 of economic conditions seemed to him doubtful, but he was 
 none the less impressed by the unfair difference between the 
 misery of the people and his own superfluity of blessings, 
 and he promised himself that, though hitherto he had worked 
 hard, and lived economically, he would in the future work 
 still harder, and live with even less luxury than ever. And 
 the effect upon himself of all these reflections was that 
 throughout the long ride from the station he was the subject 
 of the pleasantest illusions. With the full enjoyment of 
 his hopes for a new and better life, he reached his house. 
 The clock was just striking ten. 
 
 From the windows of the room occupied by his old nurse, 
 Agafya Mikhailovna, who fulfilled the functions of house- 
 keeper, the light fell upon the snow-covered steps before his 
 house. She was not yet asleep. Kuzma, wakened by her, 
 barefooted, and with sleep}' eyes, hurried down to open the 
 door. Laska, the setter, almost knocking Kuzma down in 
 her desire to get ahead of him, ran to meet her master, and 
 jumped upon him, trying to place her fore-paws on his breast. 
 
 " You are back very soon, bdtiushka" [little father], said 
 Agafya Mikhailovna. 
 
 kt I was bored, Agafya Mikhailovna : 'tis good to go visit- 
 ing, but it's better at home," said he, as he went into his 
 library. 
 
 The library was soon lighted with wax candles brought in
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 103 
 
 haste. The familiar details little by little came home to him, 
 the great antlers, the shelves lined with books, the mirror, 
 the stove with holes burned through and long ago beyond re- 
 pair, the ancestral sofa, the great table, and on the table an 
 open book, a broken ash-tray, a note-book tilled with his 
 writing. As he saw all these things, for the moment he be- 
 gan to doubt the possibility of any such change in his man- 
 ner of life as he had dreamed of during his journey. All 
 these signs of his past seemed to say to him, " No, thou 
 shalt not leave us ! thou shalt not become another ; but thou 
 shalt still be as thou hast alwa3's been, with thy doubts, thy 
 everlasting self-dissatisfaction, thy idle efforts at reform, thy 
 failures, and thy perpetual striving for a happiness which 
 will never be thine." 
 
 But while these external objects spoke to him thus, a dif- 
 ferent voice whispered to his soul, bidding him cease to be a 
 slave to his past, and declaring that a man has every possi- 
 bility within him. And listening to this voice, he went to 
 one side of the room, where he found two dumb-bells, each 
 weighing forty pounds. And he began to practise his gym- 
 nastic exercises with them, endeavoring to fill himself with 
 strength and courage. At the door, a noise of steps was 
 heard. He instantly put down the dumb-bells. 
 
 It was the prikashchik (intendant), who carne to say that, 
 thanks to God, every thing was well, but that the wheat in 
 the new drying-room had got burnt. This provoked Levin. 
 This new drying-room he had himself built, and partially in- 
 vented. But the prikashchik was entirely opposed to it. and 
 now he announced with a modest but triumphant expression 
 that the wheat was burnt. Levin was sure that it was be- 
 cause he had neglected the precautions a hundred times sug- 
 gested. He grew angry, and reprimanded the prikashchik. 
 But there was one fortunate and important event: Pava, his 
 best, his most beautiful cow, which he had bought at the 
 cattle-show, had calved. 
 
 " Kuzma, give me my tulup. And you," said he to the 
 prikashchik, " get a lantern. I will go and see her." 
 
 The stable for the cattle was not far from the house. 
 Crossing the court-yard, where the snow was heaped under 
 the lilac-bushes, he stepped up to the stable. As he opened 
 the door, which creaked on its frosty hinges, he was met 
 by the warm, penetrating breath from the stalls, and the 
 kine, astonished at the unwonted light of the lantern, turned
 
 104 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 around from their beds of fresh straw. The shiny black 
 and white back of his Holland cow gleamed in the obscurity. 
 Berkut, the bull, with a ring in his nose, tried to get to his 
 feet, but changed his mind, and only snorted when they 
 approached his stanchion. 
 
 The beautiful Pava, huge as a hippopotamus, was lying 
 near her calf, snuffing at it, and protecting it by her back, as 
 with a rampart, from those who would come too close. 
 
 Levin entered the stall, examined Pava, and lifted the 
 calf, spotted with red and white, on its long, awkward legs. 
 Pava bellowed with anxiety, but was re-assured when the 
 calf was restored to her, and began to lick it with her rough 
 tongue. The calf hid its nose under its mother's side, and 
 frisked its tail. "Bring the light this wa}', Fyodor, this 
 way," said Levin, examining the calf. "Like its mother, 
 but its hair is like the sire, long and prettily spotted. 
 Vasili Fyodorovitch, isn't it a beauty?" turning towards 
 his priktishchik, forgetting, in his joy over the new-born calf, 
 the grief caused by the burning of his wheat. 
 
 "Why should it be homely? But Simon the contractor 
 was here the day after you left. It will be necessary to 
 come to terms with him, Konstautin Dmitriteh," replied the 
 prikashchik. "I have already spoken to you about the 
 machine." This single phrase brought Levin back to all 
 the details of his enterprise, which was great and compli- 
 cated ; and from the stable he went directly to the office, and 
 after a long conversation with the prikashchik and Simon 
 the contractor, he went back to the house, and marched 
 straight into the parlor. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 LEVIN'S house was large and old, but, though he lived 
 there alone, he occupied and warmed the whole of it. He 
 knew that this was ridiculous ; he knew that it was bad, and 
 contrary to his new plans ; but this house was a world of 
 itself to him. It was a world where his father and mother 
 had lived and died, and had lived a life, which, for Levin, 
 seemed the ideal of all perfection, and which he dreamed of 
 renewing with his own wife, with his own family. 
 
 Levin scarcely remembered his mother, but this remem- 
 brance was sacred ; and his future wife, as he imagined her, 
 
 7 O /
 
 ANNA K A It NINA. 105 
 
 was to be the counterpart of the ideally charming and ador- 
 able woman, his mother. For him, love for a woman could 
 not exist outside of marriage ; but he imagined the family 
 relationship first, and only afterwards the woman who would 
 be the centre of the family. His ideas about marriage were 
 therefore essentially different from those held by the majority 
 of his friends, for whom it was only one of the innumerable 
 actions of the social life ; for Levin it was the most important 
 act of his life, whereon all his happiness depended, and now 
 he must renounce it. 
 
 AVhen he entered his little parlor where he generally took 
 tea, and threw himself into his arm-chair with a book, while 
 Agafya Mikhailovna brought him his cup, and sat down near 
 the window, saying as usual, " But I'll sit down, bdti- 
 tishka," then he felt, strangely enough, that he had not 
 renounced his day-dreams, and that he could not live with- 
 out them. Were it Kitty or another, still it would be. He 
 read his book, had his mind on what he read, and at the 
 same time listened to the unceasing prattle of Agafya Mik- 
 hailovna, but his imagination was nevertheless filled with 
 these pictures of family happiness which hovered before him. 
 He felt that in the depths of his soul some change was going 
 on, some modification arising, some crystallization taking 
 place. 
 
 He listened while Agafya Mikhailovna told how Prokhor 
 had forgotten God, and, instead of buying a horse with the 
 money which Levin had given him, had taken it and gone on 
 a spree, and beaten his wife almost to death : and while he 
 listened he read his book, and again caught the thread of his 
 thoughts, awakened by his reading. It was a book of Tyn- 
 clall, on heat. He remembered his criticisms on Tyndall's 
 satisfaction in speaking of the results of his experiences, 
 and his lack of philosophical views, and suddenly a happy 
 thought crossed his mind: "In two years I shall have two 
 Holland cows, and perhaps Pava herself wall still be alive, 
 and possibly a dozen of Berkut's daughters will have been 
 added to the herd! Splendid!" And again he picked up 
 his book. " Nu! veiy good: let us grant that electricity 
 and heat are only one and the same thing, but could this one 
 quantity stand in the equations used to settle this question? 
 No. What then ? The bond between all the forces of na- 
 ture is felt, like instinct. . . . When Pocino's daughter 
 grows into a cow with red and white spots, what a herd I
 
 106 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 
 
 shall have with those three ! Admirable ! And my wife 
 and I will go out with our guests to see the herd come in ; 
 . . . and my wife will say, ' Kostia and I have brought this 
 calf up just like a child.' ' How can this interest you so? ' 
 the guest will say. ' All that interests him interests me 
 also.' . . . But who will she be?" and he began to think 
 of what had happened in Moscow. "Nu! What is to be 
 done about it? I am not to blame. But now every thing 
 will be different. It is foolishness to let one's past life dom- 
 inate the present. One must struggle to live better much 
 better." . . . He raised his head, and sank into thought. 
 Old Laska, who had not yet got over her delight at seeing her 
 master, was barking up and down the court. She came into 
 the room, wagging her tail, and bringing the freshness of the 
 open air, and thrust her head under his hand, and begged for 
 a caress, whining plaintively. 
 
 "He almost talks," said Agafya Mikhai'lovna : "he is 
 only a dog, but he knows just as well that his master has 
 come home, and is sad." 
 
 "Why sad?" 
 
 " Da! don't I see it, bdtiusJika? It's time I knew how 
 to read my masters. Grew up with my masters since they 
 were children ! No matter, bdUuahka : with good health and 
 a pure conscience " 
 
 Levin looked at her earnestly, in astonishment that she so 
 divined his thoughts. 
 
 "And shall I give you some more tea?" said she ; and 
 she went out with the cup. 
 
 Laska continued to nestle her head in her master's hand. 
 He caressed her, and then she curled herself up around his 
 feet, laying her head on one of her hind-paws ; and as a proof 
 that all was arranged to suit her, she opened her mouth a 
 little, let her tongue slip out between her aged teeth, and, 
 with a gentle puffing of her lips, gave herself up to beatific 
 repose. Levin followed all of her movements. 
 
 " So will I ! " he said to himself ; " so will I ! all will be 
 well!" 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 ON the morning after the ball, Anna Arkad}*evna sent her 
 husband a telegram, announcing that she was going to leave 
 Moscow that day.
 
 ANNA KAKtiNINA. 107 
 
 "No, I must, I must go," she said to her sister-in-law, 
 in explanation of her change of plan, and her tone signified 
 that she had just remembered something that demanded her 
 instant attention. " No, it would be much better to-day." 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch dined out, but he agreed to get back 
 at seven o'clock to escort his sister to the train. 
 
 Kitty did not put in an appearance, but sent word that 
 she had a headache. Doll}' and Anna dined alone with the 
 children and the English maid. It was either because the 
 children were fickle or very quick-witted, and felt instinct- 
 ively that Anna was not at all as she had been on the day 
 of her arrival when they had taken so kindly to her, that 
 they suddenly ceased playing with their aunt, seemed to 
 lose their affection for her, and cared very little that she 
 was going away. Anna spent the whole morning in making 
 the preparations for her departure. She wrote a few notes 
 to her Moscow acquaintances, settled her accounts, and 
 packed her trunks. It seemed to Dolly that she was now at 
 rest in her mind, and that this mental agitation, which Dolly 
 knew from experience, arose, not without excellent reason, 
 from dissatisfaction with herself. After dinner Anna went 
 to her room to dress, and Dolly followed her. 
 
 " How strange you are to-day ! " said Dolly. 
 
 "I? You think so? I am not strange, but I am cross. 
 This is common with me. I should like to have a good cry. 
 It is very silly, but it will pass away," said Anna, speaking 
 quickly, and hiding her blushing face in a little bag where 
 she was packing her toilet articles and her handkerchiefs. 
 Her eyes shone with tears which she could hardly keep back. 
 ' k I was so loath to come away from Petersburg, and now I 
 don't want to go back ! " 
 
 "You came here and you did a lovely thing," said Dolly, 
 attentively observing her. 
 
 Anna looked at her with eyes wet with tears. 
 
 " Don't say that, Dolly. I have done nothing, and could 
 do nothing. I often ask myself why people say things to 
 spoil me. What have I done? What could I do? You 
 found that your heart had enough love left to forgive." 
 
 " Without 3'ou, God knows what would have been ! How 
 fortunate you are, Anna ! " said Dolly. " All is serene and 
 pure in your soul." 
 
 " Every one has a skeleton in his closet, as the English 
 say."
 
 108 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 "What skeletons have you, pray? In you every thing is 
 serene." 
 
 '"I have mine!" cried Anna suddenly; and an unex- 
 pected, crafty, mocking smile hovered over her lips in spite 
 of her tears. 
 
 " Nil! in your case the skeletons must be droll ones, and 
 not grievous," replied Doll} 7 with a smile. 
 
 " No : they are grievous ! Do you know why I go to-day, 
 and not to-morrow? This is a confession which weighs me 
 down, but I wish to make it," said Anna decidedly, sitting 
 down in an arm-chair, and looking Dolly straight in the eyes. 
 
 And to her astonishment she saw that Anna was blushing, 
 even to her ears, even to the dark curls that played about 
 the back of her neck. 
 
 " Da! " Anna proceeded. " Do }'ou know why Kitty did 
 not come to dinner? She is jealous of me. I spoiled it 
 was through me that the ball last night was a torment and 
 not a joy to her. But truly, truly, I was not to blame, or 
 not much to blame," said she, with a special accent on the 
 word nemn6zliko [not much] . 
 
 "Oh, how exactly you said that like Stiva ! " remarked 
 Dolly, laughing. 
 
 Anna was vexed. "Oh, no! Oh, no! I am not like 
 Stiva," said she, frowning. " I have told you this, simply 
 because I do not allow myself, for an instant, to doubt my- 
 self." 
 
 But the very moment that she said these words, she per- 
 ceived how untrue they were : she not only doubted herself, 
 but she felt such emotion at the thought of Vronsky that she 
 took her departure sooner than she otherwise would, so that 
 she might not meet him again. 
 
 "Yes, Stiva told me that you danced the mazurka with 
 him, and he " 
 
 "You cannot imagine how singularly it turned out. I 
 thought only to help along the match, and suddenly it went 
 exactly opposite. Perhaps against my will, I " 
 
 She blushed, and did not finish her sentence. 
 
 " Oh ! these things are felt instantly," said Dolly. 
 
 " But I should be in despair if I felt that there could be 
 any thing serious on his part," interrupted Anna ; " but I am 
 convinced that all will be quickly forgotten, and that Kitty 
 will not long be angry wilh me." 
 
 " In the first place, Anna, to tell the truth, I should not be
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 109 
 
 very sorry if this marriage fell through. It would be vastly 
 better for it to stop right here if Vrousky can fall in love 
 with you in a single day." 
 
 " Achl Bozhe moi! that would be so idiotic ! " said Anna, 
 and again an intense blush of satisfaction overspread her 
 face at hearing the thought that occupied her expressed in 
 words. " And that is why I go away, though I have made 
 an enemy of Kitty whom 1 loved so dearly. But you will 
 arrange that, Dolly ? Da ?' ' 
 
 Dolly could hardly refrain from smiling. She loved Anna, 
 but it was not unpleasant to discover that she also had her 
 weaknesses. 
 
 "An enemy? That cannot be !" 
 
 " And I should have been so glad to have you all love me 
 as I love you ; but now 1 love you all more than ever," said 
 Anna with tears in her eyes. " Ach! how absurd I am to- 
 day!" 
 
 She passed her handkerchief over her eyes, and began to 
 get ready. 
 
 At the very moment of depai'ture came Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch with rosy, happy face, and smelling of wine and cigars. 
 
 Anna's tender-heartedness had communicated itself to 
 Dolly, who, as she kissed her for the last time, whispered, 
 " Think, Anna ! what you have done for me, I shall never 
 forget. And think that I love you, and always shall love 
 you as my best friend ! " 
 
 " I don't understand why," replied Anna, kissing her, and 
 struggling with her tears. " You have understood me, and 
 you do understand me. ProsJicha'i [good-by], my dearest." 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " Nu! all is over. Thank the Lord!" was Anna's first 
 thought after she had said good-by to her brother, who had 
 blocked up the entrance to the coach, even after the third 
 bell had rung. She sat down on the little sofa next An- 
 nushka, her maid, and began to examine the feebly lighted 
 compartment. ''Thank the Lord! to-morrow I shall see 
 Serozha and Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, and my good and 
 commonplace life will begin again as of old." 
 
 With the same agitation of mind that had possessed her 
 all day, Anna attended most minutely to the preparations for
 
 110 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 the journey. With her skilful little hands she opened her 
 red bag, and took out a pillow, placed it on her knees, 
 wrapped her feet warmly, and composed herself comfortably. 
 A lady, who seemed to be an invalid, had already gone to 
 sleep. Two other ladies entered into conversation ; and a fat, 
 elderly dame, well wrapped up, began to criticise the temper- 
 ature. Anna exchanged a few words with the ladies, but, 
 not taking any interest in their conversation, asked Annushka 
 for her travelling-lamp, placed it on the back of her seat, 
 and took from her bag a paper-cutter and an English novel. 
 At first she could not read ; the going and coming disturbed 
 her; when once the train had started, she could not help lis- 
 tening to the noises : the snow striking against the window, 
 and sticking to the glass ; the conductor, as he passed with 
 the snowflakes melting on his coat ; the conversation carried 
 on by her travelling companions, who were talking about the 
 storm, all distracted her attention. Afterwards it became 
 more monotonous : always the same jolting and jarring, the 
 same snow on the window, the same sudden changes from, 
 warmth to cold, and back to warmth again, the same faces in 
 the dim light, and the same voices. And Anna began to 
 read, and to follow what she was reading. Annushka was 
 already asleep, holding her little red bag on her knees with 
 great, clumsy hands, clad in gloves, one of which was torn. 
 Anna read, and understood what she read ; but the reading, 
 that is, the necessity of entering into the lives of other people, 
 became intolerable to her. .She had too keen a desire to 
 live herself. She read how the heroine of her story took 
 care of the sick : she would have liked to go with noiseless 
 steps into the sick-room. She read how an M. P. made a 
 speech : she would have liked to make that speech. She 
 read how Lady Mary rode horseback, and astonished every 
 one by her boldness : she would have liked to do the same. 
 But she could do nothing ; and with her little hands she 
 clutched the paper-cutter, and forced herself to read calmly. 
 The hero of her novel had reached the summit of his Eng- 
 lish ambition, a baronetcy and an estate ; and Anna felt a 
 desire to go and visit this estate, when suddenly it seemed to 
 her that he ought to feel a sense of shame, and that she 
 ought to share it. But why should he feel ashamed? kt Why 
 should I feel ashamed? " she demanded of herself with aston- 
 ishment and discontent. She closed the book, and, leaning 
 back against the chair, held the paper-cutter tightly in both
 
 ANNA KAR&NDTA. Ill 
 
 hands. There was nothing to be ashamed of : she reviewed 
 all her memories of her visit to Moscow ; they were all pleas- 
 ant and good. She remembered the ball, she remembered 
 Vronsky and his humble and passionate face, she recalled 
 her relations with him : there was nothing to warrant a blush. 
 And yet in these reminiscences the sentiment of shame was 
 a growing factor ; and it seemed to her that inward voice, 
 whenever she thought of Vrousky, seemed to say, " Warmly, 
 very warmly, passionately." . . . "Nil! what is this ?" she 
 asked herself resolutely, as she changed her position in the 
 chair. " What does this mean? Am I afraid to face these 
 memories? Nu! what is it? Is there, can there be, any rela- 
 tionship between that boy-officer and me beyond what exists 
 between all the members of society? " She smiled disdain- 
 fully, and betook herself to her book again ; but it was evi- 
 dent that she did not any longer comprehend what she was 
 reading. She rubbed her paper-cutter over the frost-covered 
 pane, and then pressed her cheek against its cool, smooth 
 surface, and then she almost laughed out loud with the joy 
 that suddenly took possession of her. She felt her nerves 
 grow more and more excited, her eyes open wider and wider, 
 her fingers clasped convulsively, something seemed to choke 
 her, and objects and sounds assumed an exaggerated impor- 
 tance in the semi-obscurity of the car. She kept asking 
 herself at every instant, if they were going backwards or 
 forwards, or if the train had come to a stop. Was Annush- 
 ka there, just in front of her, or was it a stranger? " What 
 is that on the hook? fur, or an animal? And what am I? 
 Am I myself, or some one else? " She was frightened at her 
 own state ; she felt that her will-power was leaving her ; and, 
 in order to regain possession of her faculties, Anna arose, 
 took her plaid and her fur collar, and thought that she had con- 
 quered herself, for at this moment a tall, thin muzhik, dressed 
 in along nankeen overcoat, which lacked a button, came in, 
 and she recognized in him the istopnik (stove-tender). She 
 saw him look at the thermometer, and noticed how the wind 
 and the snow came blowing in As he opened the door ; and 
 then every thing became confused. The tall peasant began 
 to draw fantastic figures on the wall ; the old lady seemed to 
 stretch out her legs, and fill the whole car as with a black 
 cloud ; then she thought she heard a strange thumping and 
 rapping, a noise like something tearing ; then a red and 
 blinding fire flashed in her eyes, and then all vanished in
 
 112 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 darkness. Anna felt as if she had fallen from a height. 
 But these sensations were not at all alarming, but rather 
 pleasant. The voice of a man all wrapped up, and covered 
 with snow, shouted something in her ear. She started up, 
 recovered her wits, and perceived that they were approach- 
 ing a station, and the man was the conductor. She bade 
 Annushka bring her shawl and fur collar, and, having put 
 them on, she went to the door. 
 
 " Do you wish to go out? " asked Annushka. 
 
 "Yes: I want to get a breath of fresh air. Very hot 
 here." 
 
 And she opened the door. The snow-laden wind opposed 
 her passage ; and she had to exert herself to open the door, 
 which seemed amusing to her. The storm seemed to be 
 waiting for her, eager to carry her away, as it gayly whistled 
 by ; but she clung to the cold railing with one hand, and, hold- 
 ing her dress, she stepped upon the platform, and left the 
 car. The wind was not so fierce under the shelter of the 
 station, and she found a genuine pleasure in filling her lungs 
 with the frosty air of the tempest. Standing near the car 
 she watched the platform and the station gleaming with 
 lights. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 A FURIOUS storm was raging, and drifting the snow between 
 the wheels of the cars, and into the corners of the station. 
 The cars, the pillars, the people, everything visible, were cov- 
 ered on one side with snow. A few people were running 
 hither and thither, opening and shutting the great doors of 
 the station, talking ga}'ly, and making the planks of the walk 
 creak under their feet. The shadow of a man passed rap- 
 idly by her, and she heard the blows of a hammer falling on 
 the iron. 
 
 " Let her go," cried an angry voice on the other side of 
 the track. 
 
 "This way, please, No. 28," cried other voices, and sev- 
 eral people covered with snow hurried by. Two gentlemen, 
 with lighted cigarettes in their mouths, passed near Anna. 
 She was just about to re-enter the car, after getting one 
 more breath of fresh air, and had already taken her hand 
 from her muff, to lay hold of the railing, when the flickering 
 light from the reflector was cut off by a man in a military
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 113 
 
 coat, who came close to her. She looked up, and in an 
 instant recognized Vronsky's face. 
 
 He saluted her, carrying his hand to the visor, and then 
 asked respectfully if there was not some way in which he 
 might be of service to her. 
 
 Anna looked at him for some moments without ability to 
 speak : although they were in the shadow, she saw, or 
 thought that she saw, in his eyes the expression of enthusi- 
 astic ecstasy which had struck her on the evening of the 
 ball. How many times had she said to herself that Vronsky, 
 for her, was only one of the young people whom one meets' 
 by the hundred in society, and who would never cause her 
 to give him a second thought ! and now, on the first instant 
 of seeing him again, a sensation of triumphant joy seized 
 her. It was impossible to ask why he was there. She knew, 
 as truly as though he had told her, that it was because she 
 was there. 
 
 "I did not know that you were coming. Why did you 
 come?" said she. letting her hand fall from the railing. A 
 joy that she could not restrain shone in her face. 
 
 ' k Why did I come?" he repeated, looking straight into 
 her eyes. u You know that I came simply for this, to be 
 where yon are," he said. " I could not do otherwise." 
 
 And at this instant the wind, as though it had conquered 
 every obstacle, drove the snow from the roof of the car, 
 and tossed in triumph a birch-leaf which it had torn off, 
 and at the same time the whistle of the locomotive gave a 
 melancholy, mournful cry. Never had the horror of a tern- 
 pest appeared to her more beautiful than now. She had just 
 beard what her reason feared, but which her heart longed to 
 hear. She made no reply, but he perceived by her face how 
 she fought against herself. 
 
 " Forgive me if what I said displeases you," he murmured 
 humbly. 
 
 He spoke respectfully, but in such a resolute, decided tone, 
 that for some time she was unable to reply. 
 
 " What you said was wrong ; and 1 beg of you, if you are 
 a gentleman, to forget it, as I shall forget it." 
 
 kt I shall never forget, and I shall never be able to forget 
 an}* of your words, any of your gestures " 
 
 " Enough, enough ! " she cried, vainly endeavoring to give 
 an expression of severity to her face, at which he was pas- 
 sionately gazing. And helping herself by the cold railing,
 
 114 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 
 
 she quickly mounted the steps, and entered the car. But she 
 stopped in the little entry, and tried to recall to her imagi- 
 nation what had taken place. She found it impossible to 
 bring back the words that had passed between them ; but she 
 felt that that brief conversation had brought them closer to- 
 gether, and she was at once startled and delighted. At 
 the end of a few seconds, she went back to her place in the 
 car. 
 
 The nervous strain which tormented her" became more in- 
 tense, until she began to fear that every moment something 
 would snap within her brain. She did not sleep all night : 
 but in this nervous tension, aud in the fantasies which filled 
 her imagination, there was nothing disagreeable or painful ; 
 on the contrary, it was joyous, burning excitement. 
 
 Toward morning, Anna dozed as she sat in her arm-chair ; 
 and when she awoke it was bright daylight, and the train 
 was approaching Petersburg. The thought of her home, her 
 husband, her son, and all the little labors of the day and the 
 coming da}'s, filled her mind. 
 
 The train had hardly reached the station at Petersburg, 
 when Anna stepped upon the platform ; and the first person 
 that she saw was her husband waiting for her. 
 
 " Achl Bozhe moi ! Why are his ears so long?" she 
 thought, as she looked at his reserved but distinguished face, 
 and was struck by the lobes of his ears protruding from 
 under the lappets of his round cap. When he saw her, he 
 came to meet her at the car, with his habitual smile of 
 irony, looking straight at her with his great, weary eyes. A 
 disagreeable thought oppressed her heart when she saw his 
 stubborn, weary look. She felt that she had expected to 
 find him different. Not only was she dissatisfied with her- 
 self, but she confessed to a certain sense of hypocrisy in her 
 relations with her husband. This feeling was not novel : she 
 had felt it before without heeding it, but now she recognized 
 it clearly and with distress. 
 
 " Da! you see, I'm a tender husband, tender as the first 
 year of our marriage : I was burning with desire to see you," 
 said he, in his slow, deliberate voice, aud with the light tone 
 of raillery that he generally used in speaking to her, a tone 
 of ridicule, as if any one could speak as he had done. 
 
 " Is Serozha well? " she demanded. 
 
 " And is this all the reward," he said, "for my ardor? 
 He is well, very well."
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 115 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 VRONSKY had not even attempted to sleep all that night. 
 He sat in his arm-chair, with eyes wide open, looking with 
 perfect indifference at those who came in and went out ; for 
 him, men were of no more account than things. People who 
 were ordinarily struck by his imperturbable dignity, would 
 have found him now tenfold more haughty and unapproacha- 
 ble. A nervous young man, an employe of the district court, 
 sitting near him in the car, detested him on account of this 
 aspect. The young man did his best to make him appreciate 
 that he was an animated object ; he asked for a light, he 
 spoke to him, he even touched him : but Vronsky looked at 
 him as though he had been the reflector. And the young 
 man, with a grimace, thought that he should lose command of 
 himself to be so ignored by Vronsky. 
 
 Vronsky saw nothing, heard nothing. He felt as though 
 he were a tsar, not because he saw that he had made an impres- 
 sion upon Anna, he did not fully realize that, as yet, but 
 because of the power of the impression which she had made 
 on him, and which filled him with happiness and pride. 
 
 What would be the result of this, he did not know, and did 
 not even consider ; but he felt that all his powers, which had 
 been dissipated and scattered hitherto, were now tending 
 with frightful rapidity towards one beatific focus. As he left 
 his compartment at Bologoi, to get a glass of seltzer, he saw 
 Anna, and almost from the first word had told her what he 
 thought. And he was glad that he had spoken as he did ; 
 glad that she knew all now, and was thinking about it. 
 Returning to his car, he recalled, one by one, all his memo- 
 ries of her, the words that she had spoken, and his imagina- 
 tion painted the possibility of a future which overwhelmed 
 his heart. 
 
 On reaching Petersburg, he dismounted from the car, and 
 in spite of a sleepless night felt as fresh and vigorous as 
 though he had just enjoyed a cold bath. He stood near his 
 car, waiting to see her pass. " I will see her once more," 
 he said to himself with a smile. 4t I will see her graceful 
 bearing ; perhaps she will speak a word to me, will look at 
 me, smile upon me." But it was her husband whom first he 
 saw, politely escorted through the crowd by the station-mas- 
 ter. " Ach ! da ! the husband ! " And then Vronskv for the
 
 116 ANNA KAE&N1NA. 
 
 first time got a realizing sense that he was an important factor 
 in Anna's life. He knew that she had a husband, but had 
 never realized the fact until now, when he saw his head, 
 his shoulders, and his legs clothed in black pantaloons, and 
 especially when he saw him unconcernedly go up to Anna, 
 and take her hand as though he had the right of possession. 
 
 The sight of Aleksei Aleksandrovitch with his Petersburg- 
 ish-fresh face, and his solid, self-confident figure, his round 
 cap, and his slightly stooping shoulders, confirmed the fact, 
 and filled him with the same sensation that a man dying of 
 thirst experiences, who discovers a fountain, but finds that a 
 dog, a sheep, or a pig has been roiling the water. Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch's stiff and heavy gait was exceedingly dis- 
 tasteful to Vronsky. He did not acknowledge that any one 
 besides himself had the right to love Anna. When she 
 appeared, the sight of her filled him with physical exultation. 
 She had not changed, and his soul was touched and moved. 
 He ordered his German body-servant, who came hunying up 
 to him from the second-class car, to see to the baggage ; and 
 while he was on his way towards her, he witnessed the meet- 
 ing between husband and wife, and, with a lover's intuition, 
 perceived the shade of constraint with which Anna greeted 
 her husband. " No, she does not love him, and she cannot 
 love him," was his mental judgment. 
 
 As he joined them, he noticed with joy that she felt his 
 approach, and was glad, and that she recognized him, 
 though she went on talking with her husband. 
 
 "Did you have a good night?" said he, when he was 
 near enough, and bowing to her, but in such a manner as to 
 include the husband, and allow AlekseT Aleksandrovitch the 
 opportunity to acknowledge the salute, and recognize him, if 
 it seemed good to him so to do. 
 
 "Thank you, very good," she replied. 
 
 Her face expressed weariness, and her eyes and smile 
 lacked their habitual animation ; but the moment she saw 
 Vronsky, something flashed into her eyes, and, notwithstand-* 
 ing the fact that the fire instantly died away, he was overjoyed 
 even at this. She raised her eyes to her husband, to see 
 whether he knew Vronsky. Aleksei Aleksaudrovitch looked 
 at him with displeasure, vaguely remembering who he was. 
 Vronsky's calm self-assurance struck upon Aleksei Aleksan- 
 drovitrh's cool superciliousness as a feather on a rock. 
 
 " Count Vronsky," said Anna.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 117 
 
 "Ah! "We have met before, it seems to me," said Alek- 
 sei Aleksandrovitch with indifference, extending his hand. 
 " Went with the mother, and came home with the son," said 
 he, speaking with precision, as though his words were worth 
 a ruble apiece. k> Back from a furlough, probably? " And 
 without waiting for an answer, he turned to his wife, in his 
 ironical tone, " Did they shed many tears in Moscow to 
 have you leave them? " 
 
 His manner toward his wife told Vronsk} 1 that he wanted 
 to be left alone, and the impression was confirmed when he 
 touched his hat, and turned from him ; but Vronsky still 
 remained with Anna. 
 
 " I hope to have the honor of calling upon you," said he. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, with weary eyes, looked at Vron- 
 sky. " Very happy," he said coldly : "we receive on Mon- 
 days." Then, leaving Vronsky entirely, he said to his wife, 
 still in a jesting tone, " And how fortunate that I happened 
 to have a spare half-hour to come to meet you, and show 
 you my tenderness." 
 
 " You emphasize your affection too much for me to appre- 
 ciate it," replied Anna, in the same spirit of raillery, 
 although she was listening involuntarily to Vronsky's 
 steps behind them. " But what is that to me?" she asked 
 herself in thought. Then she began to ask her husband 
 how Serozha had got along dijring her absence. 
 
 "Oh! excellently. Mariette says that he has been very 
 good, and I am sorry to have to tell you that he did not 
 seem to miss you not so much as your husband. But again, 
 merci, my dear, that you came a day earlier. Our dear Sam- 
 ovar will be delighted." He called the celebrated Countess 
 Lidia Ivanovna by the nickname of the Samovar (tea-urn), 
 because she was alwaj-s and everywhere bubbling and boiling. 
 " She has kept asking after you ; and do you know, if I 
 make bold to advise you, you would do well to go to see her 
 to-day. You see, her heart is always sore on your account. 
 At present, besides her usual cares, she is greatly concerned 
 about the reconciliation of the Oblonskys." 
 
 The Countess Lidia Ivanovna was a friend of Anna's hus- 
 band, and the centre of a certain circle in Petersburg soci- 
 ety, to which Anna, on her husband's account, more than 
 for any other reason, belonged. 
 
 " Da! But didn't I write her? " 
 
 " She expects to have all the details. Go to her, my
 
 118 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 dear, if you are not too tired. Na ! Kondrato will call your 
 carriage, and I am going to a committee-meeting. I shall 
 not have to dine alone this time," continued Alekse'i Alek- 
 sandrovitch, not in jest this time. " You cannot imagine 
 how used I am to . . ." 
 
 And with a peculiar smile, giving her a long pressure of 
 the hand, he led her to the carriage. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 THE first face that Anna saw when she reached home was 
 her son's. Rushing down the stairs, in spite of his nurse's 
 reproof, he hastened to meet her with a cry of joy. 
 " Mamma ! mamma ! " and sprang into her arms. 
 
 " I told you it was mamma ! " he shouted to the governess. 
 11 1 knew it was ! " 
 
 But the son, no less than the husband, awakened in Anna 
 a feeling like disillusion. She imagined him better than he 
 was in reality. She was obliged to descend to the reality in 
 order to look upon him as he was. But in fact, he was 
 lovely, with his curly head, his blue eyes, and his pretty plump 
 legs in their neatly fitting stockings. She felt an almost 
 physical satisfaction in feeling him near her, and in his 
 caresses, and a moral calm in ^ looking into his tender, con- 
 fiding, loving eyes, and in hearing his childish questions. 
 She unpacked the gifts sent him by Dolly's children, and 
 told him how there was a little girl in Moscow, named Tania, 
 and how this Tania knew how to read, and was teaching the 
 other children to read. 
 
 " Am I not as good as she? " 
 
 " For me, you are worth all the rest of the world." 
 
 " I know it," said Serozha, smiling. 
 
 Anna had hardly finished her coffee, when the Countess 
 Lidia Ivanovuawas announced. The countess was a robust, 
 stout woman, with an unhealthy, sallow complexion, and 
 handsome, dreamy black eyes. Anna liked her, but to-day, 
 as for the first time, she seemed to see her with all her faults. 
 
 " Nn ! my dear, did you carry the olive-branch ? " demanded 
 the Countess Lidia Ivanovna, as she entered the room. 
 
 " Yes : it is all made up," replied Anna ; " but it was not 
 so bad as we thought. As a general thing, my belle-sceur is 
 too hasty."
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 119 
 
 But the Countess Liclia, who was interested in all that did 
 not specially concern herself, had the habit of sometimes not 
 heeding what did interest her. She interrupted Anna. 
 
 ' Da! This world is full of woes and tribulations, and I 
 am all worn out to-day." 
 
 " What is it? " asked Anna, striving to repress a smile. 
 
 " I am beginning to weary of the useless strife for the 
 right, and sometimes I am utterly discouraged. The work 
 of the Little Sisters [this was a philanthropical and reli- 
 giously patriotic institution] is getting along splendidly, but 
 there is nothing to be done with these men," added the 
 Countess Lidia Ivanovna, with an air of ironical resignation 
 to fate. ''They get hold of an idea, they mutilate it, and 
 then they judge it so meanly, so wretchedly. Two or three 
 men, your husband among them, understand all the meaning 
 of this work ; but the others ouly discredit it. Yesterday 
 Pravdin wrote me " 
 
 Pravdin was a famous Panslavist, who lived abroad, and 
 the Countess Lidia Ivanovna related what he had said in his 
 letter. Then she went on to describe the troubles and snares 
 which blocked the work of uniting the churches, and finally 
 departed in haste, because it was the day for her to be pres- 
 ent at the meeting of some society or other, and at the sit- 
 ting of the Slavonic Committee. 
 
 " All this used to exist, but why did I never notice it be- 
 fore ? ' ' said Anna to herself. l ' Was she very irritable to-day ? 
 But at any rate, it is ridiculous : her aims are charitable, she 
 is a Christian, and yet she is angry with everybody, and 
 everybody is her enemy ; and yet all her enemies are working 
 for Christianity and charity." 
 
 After the departure of the Countess Lidia Ivanovna, came 
 a friend, the wife of a direktor, who told her all the news of 
 the city. At three o'clock she went out, promising to be 
 back in time for dinner. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch was at 
 the meeting of the ministry. The hour before dinner, which 
 Anna spent alone, she employed sitting with her son, who 
 ate apart from the others, in arranging her things, and in 
 catching up in her correspondence, which was in arrears. 
 
 The sensation of causeless shame, and the trouble from 
 which she had suffered so strangely during her journey, now 
 completely disappeared. Under the conditions of her ordi- 
 nary every-day life, she felt calm, and free from reproach, 
 and she was surprised as she recalled her condition of the
 
 120 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 night before. " What was it? Nothing. Vronsky said a 
 foolish thing, to which it is idle to give an}' further thought. 
 To speak of it to my husband is worse than useless. To 
 speak about it would seem to attach too much importance to 
 it." And she recalled a trifling episode which had occurred 
 between her and a young subordinate of her husband's in 
 Petersburg, and how she had felt called upon to tell him 
 about it, and how Aleksei Aleksandrovitch told her that as 
 she went into society, she, like all society women, might ex- 
 pect such experiences, but that he had too much confidence 
 in her tact to allow his jealousy to humiliate her or himself. 
 " Why tell, then? Besides, I have nothing to tell." 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 ALEKSEI ALEKSANDROVITCII returned from the ministry 
 about four o'clock, but, as often happened, he found no time 
 to speak to Anna. He went directly to his library to give 
 audience to some petitioners who were waiting for him, and 
 to sign some papers brought him by his chief secretary. 
 
 The Karenius always had at least three visitors to dine 
 with them ; and to-day there came an old lady, a cousin of 
 Alekse"i Aleksandrovitch's, a department director with his 
 wife, and a young man recommended to Aleksei Aleksandro- 
 vitch for employment. Anna came to the drawing-room to 
 receive them. The great bronze clock, of the time of Peter 
 the Great, had just finished striking five, when Aleks6i Alek- 
 sandrovitch, in white cravat, and with two decorations on his 
 dress-coat, left his dressing-room : he had an engagement 
 immediately after dinner. Every moment of Aleksei Alek- 
 sandrovitch's life was counted and occupied, and, in order 
 to accomplish what he had to do every day, he was forced to 
 use the strictest regularity and punctuality. " Without 
 haste, and without rest," was his motto. He entered the 
 salon, bowed to his guests, and, giving his wife a smile, led 
 the way to the table. 
 
 "Da! my solitude is over. You don't realize how irk- 
 some [he laid a special stress on the word nelovko, irksome] 
 it is to dine alone ! " 
 
 During the dinner he talked with his wife about matters 
 in Moscow, and, with his mocking smile, inquired especially 
 about Stepau Arkadyevitch ; but the conversation remained
 
 ANNA KARflNINA. 121 
 
 for the most on common subjects, about Petersburg society, 
 and matters connected with the government. After dinner 
 he spent a half-hour with his guests, and then giving his 
 wife another smile, and pressing her hand, he left the room, 
 and went to the council. Anna did not go this evening to 
 the Princess Betsy Tverskai'a's, who. having heard of her arri- 
 val, had sent her an invitation ; and she did not go to the 
 theatre, where she just now had a box. She did not go out, 
 principally because a dress, which she had expected, was not 
 done. After the departure of her guests, Anna investigated 
 her wardrobe, and was much disturbed to find that of the 
 three dresses, which in a spirit of economy she had given to 
 the dressmaker to make over, and which ought to have been 
 done three days ago, two were absolutely unfinished, and 
 one was done in a way that Anna did not like. The dress- 
 maker came with her excuses, declaring that it would be 
 better so, and Anna reprimanded her so severely that after- 
 wards she felt ashamed of herself. To calm her agitation, 
 she went to the nursery, and spent the evening with her son, 
 put him to bed herself, made the sign of the cross over him, 
 and tucked the quilt about him. She was glad that she had 
 not gone out, and that she had spent such a happy evening. 
 It was so quiet and restful, and now she saw clearly that all 
 that had seemed so important during her railway journey 
 was only one of the ordinary insignificant events of social 
 life, that she had nothing in the world of which to be 
 ashamed. She sat down in front of the fireplace with her 
 English novel, and waited for her husband. At half-past 
 nine exactly his ring was heard at the door, and he came into 
 the room. 
 
 "Here you are, at last," she said, giving him her hand. 
 He kissed her hand, and sat down near her. 
 
 " Your journey, I see, was on the whole very successful," 
 said he. 
 
 " Yes, very," she replied ; and she began to relate all the 
 details her journey with the old countess, her arrival, the 
 accident at the station, the pity which she had felt, first for her 
 brother, and afterwards for Dolly. 
 
 " I do not see how it is possible to pardon such a man, 
 even though he is your brother," said Aleks6i Aleksandro- 
 vitch severely. 
 
 Anna smiled. She appreciated that he said this to show 
 that not even kinship could bend him from the strictness
 
 122 ANNA KAKtiNINA. 
 
 of his honest judgment. She knew this trait in her husband's 
 character, and liked it. 
 
 "I am glad," he continued, "that all ended so satisfac- 
 torily, and that you have come home again. Nu! what do 
 they say there about the new measures that I introduced in 
 the council? " 
 
 Anna had heard nothing said about this new measure, and 
 she was confused because she had so easily forgotten some- 
 thing which to him was so important. 
 
 'Here, on the contrary, it has made a great sensation," 
 said he, with a self-satisfied smile. 
 
 She saw that Aleksei Aleksandrovitch wanted to tell her 
 something very flattering to himself about this affair, and, by 
 means of questions, she led him up to the story. And he, 
 with the same self-satisfied smile, began to tell her of the 
 congratulations which he had received on account of this 
 measure, which had been passed. 
 
 " I was very, very glad. This proves that at last, reason- 
 able and serious views about this question are beginning to be 
 formed among us." After he had taken his second cup of 
 tea, with cream and bread, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch arose to 
 go to his library. 
 
 u But you did not go out : was it ver}' tiresome for you? " 
 he said. 
 
 "Oh, no!" she replied, rising with her husband, and 
 going with him through the hall to the library. 
 
 " What are you reading now? " she asked. 
 
 " Just now I am reading the Due do Lille Poesie des 
 en/ens," he replied, "a very remarkable book." 
 
 Anna smiled, as one smiles at the weaknesses of those we 
 love, and, passing her arm through her husband's, accompa- 
 nied him to the library-door. She knew that his habit of 
 reading in the evening had become inexorable, and that 
 notwithstanding his absorbing duties, which took so much of 
 his time at the council, he felt it his duty to follow all that 
 seemed remarkable in the sphere of literature. She also 
 knew, that while he felt a special interest in works on politi- 
 cal economy, philosophy, and religion, Aleksei Aleksandro- 
 vitch allowed no book on art which seemed to him to possess 
 any value, to escape his notice, and for the very reason that art 
 was contrary to his nature. She knew that in the province 
 of political economy, philosophy, religion, Aleksei Alek- 
 saudrovitch had doubts, and tried to solve them ; but in
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 123 
 
 questions of art or poetry, particularly in music, the compre- 
 hension of which was utterly beyond him, he had the most 
 precise and definite opinions. He loved to speak of Shak- 
 speare, Raphael, and Beethoven ; of the importance of the new 
 school of musicians and poets, all of whom were classed by 
 him according to the most rigorous logic. 
 
 " Ntt! God be with you," she said, as they reached the 
 door of the library, where were standing, as usual, near her 
 husband's arm-chair, the shade-lamp already lighted, and a 
 car<tfe with water. "And I am going to write to Moscow." 
 
 Again he pressed her hand, and kissed it. 
 
 " Taken all in all, he is a good man ; upright, excellent, 
 remarkable in his sphere," said Anna to herself, on her way 
 to her room, as though she felt it necessary to defend him from 
 some one who accused him of not being lovable. 
 
 " But why do his ears stick out so? Or does he cut his 
 hair too short ? ' ' 
 
 It was just midnight, and Anna was still sitting at her 
 writing-table finishing a letter to Dolly, when Aleks6i Alek- 
 sandrovitch's steps were heard : he wore his slippers and dress- 
 ing-gown ; he had had his bath, and his hair was brushed. 
 His book was under his arm : he stopped at his wife's room. 
 
 " Late, late," said he, with his usual smile, and passed on 
 to their sleeping-room. 
 
 "And what right had he to look at him so?" thought 
 Anna, recalling Vronsky's expression when he saw Aleks6i 
 Aleksandrovitch. Having undressed, she went to her room ; 
 but in her face there was none of that animation which shone 
 in her eyes and in her smile at Moscow. On the contrary, 
 the fire had either died away, or was somewhere far away and 
 out of sight. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 ON leaving Petersburg, Vronsky had installed his beloved 
 friend and comrade, Petritsky, in his ample quarters on the 
 Morska'ia. Petritsky was a young lieutenant, not partic- 
 ularly distinguished, and not only not rich, but over ears in 
 debt. Every evening he came home tipsy, and he spent much 
 of his time at the police courts, in search of strange or amus- 
 ing or scandalous stories ; but in spite of all he was a favor- 
 ite with his comrades and his chiefs. About eleven o'clock 
 in the morning, when Vrousky reached home after his jour-
 
 124 ANNA 
 
 ne}', he saw at the entrance an izvoshchik's carriage, which 
 he knew very well. From the door, when he rang, he heard 
 men's laughter and the lisping of a woman's voice, and Pe- 
 tritsky shouting, " If it's an}- of those villains, don't let 'em 
 in." Vronsky, not allowing his denshchiJc to announce his 
 presence, quietly entered the ante-room. The Baroness Shil- 
 ton, a friend of Petritsky's, shining in a lilac satin robe, and 
 with her little pink face, was making coffee before a round 
 table, and, like a canary-bird, was filling the room with her 
 Parisian slang. Petritsky in his overcoat, and Captain Kam- 
 erovsky in full uniform, apparently to help her, were sitting 
 near her. 
 
 "Bravo, Vronsky ! " cried Petritsky, leaping up, and over- 
 turning the chair. "The master himself. Baronessa , cof- 
 fee for him from the new biggin ! We did not expect you. 
 I hope that you are pleased with the new ornament in your 
 library," he said, pointing to the baroness. "You are ac- 
 quainted ? ' ' 
 
 "I should think so!" said Vronsky, smiling gayly, and 
 squeezing the baroness's dainty little hand. " We're old 
 friends." 
 
 "Are you back from a journey?" asked the baroness. 
 "Then I'm off. Ach! I am going this minute if I am in 
 the way." 
 
 "You are at home wherever you are, baronessa," said 
 Vronsky. "How are you, Kamerovsky?" coolly shaking 
 hands with the captain. 
 
 "Vot! you would never be able to say such lovely things 
 as that," said the baroness to Petritsky. 
 
 "No? Why not? After dinner I could say better 
 things!" 
 
 "After dinner there's no more merit in them. Nu! I 
 will make your coffee while you go and wash your hands and 
 brush off the dust," said the baroness, again sitting down, 
 and turning industriously the handle of the new coffee-mill. 
 "Pierre, bring some more coffee," said she to Petritsky, 
 whom she called Pierre, after his family name, to show her 
 intimacy with him. " I will add it." 
 
 "You will spoil it." 
 
 "No! I won't spoil it. Nu! and your wife?" said the 
 baroness, suddenly interrupting Vronsky's remarks to his 
 companions. "We have been marrying you off. Did you 
 bring your wife?"
 
 ANNA KARNINA. 125 
 
 " No, baronessa. I was born a Bohemian, and I shall die 
 a Bohemian." 
 
 "So much the better, so much the better: give us your 
 hand ! " 
 
 And the baroness, without letting him go, began to talk 
 with him, developing her various plans of life, and asking 
 his advice with many jests. 
 
 " He will never be willing to let me have a divorce. Nu! 
 What am I to do? [He was her husband.] I now mean to 
 institute a law-suit. What should you think of it ? Kame- 
 rovsky. just watch the coffee ! It's boiling over. You see 
 how well I understand business ! I mean to begin a law-suit 
 to get control of my fortune. Do you understand this non- 
 sense? Under the pretext that I have been unfaithful, he 
 means to get possession of my estate." 
 
 Vronsky listened with amusement to this gay prattle of 
 the pretty woman, approved of what she said, gave his ad- 
 vice, and assumed the tone he usually affected with women of 
 her character. In his Petersburg world, humanity was di- 
 vided into two absolutely distinct categories, the one of a 
 low order, trivial, stupid, and above all ridiculous, people, 
 declaring that one husband ought to live with one wedded 
 wife, that girls should be virtuous, women chaste, men 
 brave, temperate, and unshaken, occupied in bringing up 
 their children decently, in earning their bread, and paying 
 their debts, and other such absurdities. This kind of people 
 were old-fashioned and dull. But the other and vastly su- 
 perior class, to which he and his friends belonged, required 
 that its members should be, above all, elegant, generous, bold, 
 gay, shamelessly unrestrained in the pursuit of pleasure, and 
 scornful of all the rest. 
 
 Vronsky, still under the influence of his totally different 
 life in Moscow, was at first almost stunned at the change ; 
 but soon, and as naturally as one puts on old slippers, he got 
 into the spirit of his former gay and jovial life. 
 
 The coffee was never served ; it boiled over, and wet a 
 costly table-cloth and the baroness's dress ; but it served the 
 end that was desired, for it gave rise to many jests and 
 merry peals of laughter. 
 
 ' Nu! now I am going, for you will never get dressed, and 
 I shall have on my conscience the worst crime that a decent 
 man can commit, that of not taking a bath. So you advise 
 me to put the knife to his throat? "
 
 126 ANNA KAKtiNINA. 
 
 " By all means, and in such a way that your little hand 
 will come near his lips. He will kiss your little hand, and 
 all will end to everybody's satisfaction," said Vronsky. 
 
 "This evening at the Thedtre Fmn$ais," and she took 
 her departure with her rustling train. 
 
 Kamerovsky likewise arose, but Vronsky, without waiting 
 for him to go, shook hands with him, and went to his dress- 
 ing-room. While he was taking his bath, Petritsky sketched 
 for him in a few lines how his situation had changed during 
 Vronsky's absence, no money at all; his father declaring 
 that he would not give him any more, or pay a single debt. 
 One tailor determined to have him arrested, and a second no 
 less determined. His colonel insisted that if these scandals 
 continued, he should leave the regiment. A duel was on 
 with Berkoshef, and he wanted to send him his seconds, but 
 he guessed nothing would come of it. As for the rest, every 
 thing was getting along particularly jolly. And then, with- 
 out leaving Vronsky time to realize the situation, Petritsky 
 began to retail the news of the day. Petritsky's well-known 
 gossip, his familiar room, and where he had lived for three 
 years, all his surroundings, contributed to bring Vronsky 
 back into the current of his gay and idle Petersburg life, 
 and he felt a certain pleasure in renewing the sensation. 
 
 " It cannot be ! " he cried, as he turned on the faucet of 
 his wash-basin, in which he was washing his handsome, 
 healthy neck: "it cannot be!" he cried. He had just 
 learned that Laura was now under Fertinghof's protection. 
 " And is he as stupid and as conceited as ever? Nu! and 
 Buzulukof?" 
 
 " Achl Buzulukof! that's a whole history," said Petritsky. 
 " You know his passion, balls ; and he never misses one at 
 court. At the last one he went in a new helmet. Have you 
 seen the new helmets? Very handsome, very light. Well, 
 he was standing No; but listen." 
 
 "Yes, I am listening," replied Vronskj-, rubbing his face 
 with a towel. 
 
 " The Grand Duchess was just going by on the arm of some 
 foreign ambassador or other, and unfortunately for him con- 
 versation turned on the new helmets. The Grand Duchess 
 wanted to point out one of the new helmets, and, seeing our 
 galitbchik standing there [here Petritsky showed how he 
 stood in his helmet], she begged him to show her his hel- 
 met. He did not budge. What does it mean ? The fellows
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 127 
 
 wink at him, make signs, scowl at him. ' Give it to her.' 
 He does not stir. Pie is like a dead man. You can imagine 
 the scene ! Now as he then they attempt to take it off. 
 He does not stir. At last he himself takes it off, and hands 
 it to the Grand Duchess. 
 
 " ' This is the new kind,' said the Grand Duchess. Bui, 
 as she turned it over, you can imagine it, out came, buJch ! 
 pears, bon-bons, two pounds of bon-bons! He had been to 
 market, galubchik! " 
 
 Yronsky broke into a hearty laugh ; and long afterwards, 
 even when speaking of other things, the memory of the 
 unfortunate helmet caused him to break out into his good- 
 natured laugh which showed his handsome, regular teeth. 
 
 Having learned all the news, Vrousky donned his uniform 
 with the aid of his valet, and went out to report himself. 
 Then he determined to call on his brother, on the Princess 
 Betsy, and to make a series of calls, so as to secure an entry 
 into the society where he should be likely to see the Karen- 
 ins ; and in accordance with the usual custom at Petersburg, 
 he left his rooms, expecting to return only when it was very 
 late at night.
 
 128 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 I. 
 
 TOWARDS the close of the winter the Shcherbatskys held a 
 consultation of physicians in regard to Kitty's health : she 
 was ill, and the approach of spring only increased her ail- 
 ment. The family doctor had ordered cod-liver oil, then 
 iron, and last of all, nitrate of silver ; but as none of these 
 remedies did any good, he advised them to take her abroad. 
 
 It was then resolved to consult a celebrated specialist. 
 This celebrity, still a young man, and very neat in his per- 
 sonal appearance, insisted on a careful investigation of the 
 trouble ; and as all the other doctors who belonged to the 
 same school, studied the same books, and consequently held 
 the same ideas, had decided that this specialist possessed 
 the necessary skill to save Kitty, his request was granted. 
 After a careful examination and a prolonged use of the 
 stethoscope on the lungs of the poor, trembling girl, the cele- 
 brated physician carefully washed his hands, and returned to 
 the drawing-room. The prince, with a little cough, listened 
 to what he had to say, and frowned. He himself had 
 never been sick, and he had no faith in doctors. Moreover 
 he was a man of common sense, and was all the more angry 
 at this comedy, because possibly he alone understood what 
 ailed his daughter. "A regular humbug," thought the old 
 prince, and mentally applied to the celebrated doctor a 
 hunting expression, which signifies a man who has not had 
 any luck, but comes home with large stories. The latter, on 
 his side, with difficulty stooping to the low level of this old 
 gentleman's intelligence, barely disguised his disdain. It 
 scarcely seemed to him necessary to speak to the poor old 
 man, since, in his eyes, the head of the house was the prin- 
 cess. He was ready to pour out before her all the floods of 
 his eloquence ; and, as she came in at this moment with the
 
 ANNA KAKtiNINA. 129 
 
 family doctor, the old prince left the room, so as not to 
 show too clearly what he thought about it all. The princess 
 was troubled, and did not know what course to take. She 
 felt a little guilty in regard to Kittj*. 
 
 " Nu! Doctor, decide upon our fate: tell me all." She 
 wanted to say, " Is there any hope? " but her lips trembled, 
 and she hesitated. " Na! tell us." 
 
 "I shall be at your service, princess, after I have con- 
 ferred with my colleague. We shall then have the honor of 
 giving you our opinion." 
 
 " Do you wish to be alone? " 
 
 "Just as you please." 
 
 The princess sighed, and left the room. 
 
 The family doctor timidly expressed his opinion about her 
 condition, and gave his reasons for thinking that it was the 
 beginning of tubercular disease because and because and 
 et ccetera. The celebrated physician listened, and in the midst 
 of his diagnosis took out his great gold watch. 
 
 " Yes," said he, " but " 
 
 His colleague stopped respectfully. 
 
 " You know that it is hardly possible to decide when 
 tubercular disease first begins. In the present case, one can 
 only suspect this trouble from the presence of such symptoms 
 as indigestion, nervousness, and others. The question, 
 therefore, stands thus : what is to be done, granting that a 
 tubercular development is to be feared, in order to superin- 
 duce improved alimentation?" 
 
 " But you know well, that there is back of all some men- 
 tal reason," said the family doctor, with a cunning smile. 
 
 "Of course," replied the celebrated doctor, looking at his 
 watch again. "Excuse me, but do you know whether the 
 bridge over the Yausa is finished yet, or whether one has to 
 go around?" 
 
 "It is finished." 
 
 " Da! Then I have only twent}' minutes left. We were 
 just saying that the question remains thus : to improve the 
 digestion, and strengthen the nerves ; the one cannot go with- 
 out the other, and it is necessary to act on the two halves of 
 the circle." 
 
 " But the journey abroad? " 
 
 " I am opposed to these journeys abroad. I beg you to 
 follow my reasoning. If tubercular development has already 
 set in, which we are not yet iu a condition to prove, what
 
 130 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 good would travel do? The main thing is to discover a 
 means of promoting good digestion." And the celebrated 
 doctor began to develop his plan for a cure by means of 
 Soden water, the principal merits of which were, in his eyes, 
 their absolutely inoffensive character. 
 
 The family doctor listened with attention and respect. 
 
 " But I should urge in favor of a journey abroad the 
 change of her habits and the dissociations from the condi- 
 tions that serve to recall unhappy thoughts. And, finally, 
 her mother wants her to go." 
 
 " Ah! nu! in that case let them go, provided always that 
 those German quacks do not aggravate her disease. They 
 must follow my prescriptions with the most absolute strict- 
 ness. Nu! let them travel." 
 
 And again he looked at his watch. 
 
 "It is time for me to go;" and he started for the 
 door. 
 
 The celebrated doctor assured the princess that he wished 
 to see the invalid once more it was probably through a 
 sentiment of social propriety. 
 
 "What! have another examination?" cried the princess, 
 with horror. 
 
 " Oh, no ! only a few minor points, princess." 
 
 " Then come in, I beg of you." 
 
 And the mother ushered the doctor into Kitty's little bou- 
 doir. The poor, emaciated girl was standing in the middle 
 of the room, with flushed cheeks, and eyes brilliant with the 
 excitement caused by the doctor's visit. When she saw 
 them coming back, her eyes filled with tears, and she blushed 
 still more crimson. Her illness and the remedies which she 
 was obliged to endure seemed to her such ridiculous non- 
 sense. What did these remedies mean? It was like gather- 
 ing up the fragments of a broken vase in order to make it 
 whole again. Her heart was broken, and could it be restored 
 to health by pills and powders ? But she did not dare to go 
 against her mother's judgment, the more because she felt 
 that she herself had been to blame. 
 
 "Will 3'ou sit down, princess?" said the celebrated 
 doctor. 
 
 He sat down in front of her, felt her pulse, and with a 
 smile began a series of wearisome questions. At first she 
 replied to them, then suddenly arose impatiently. 
 
 " Excuse me, doctor, but, indeed, this all leads to nothing.
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 131 
 
 This is the third time that you have asked me the same 
 question." 
 
 The celebrated doctor took no offence. 
 
 " It is her nervous irritability," he remarked to the prin- 
 cess when Kitty had gone from the room. " However, I 
 was through." 
 
 And the celebrated doctor explained the young girl's 
 condition to her mother, treating her as a person of remark- 
 able intelligence, and giving her, finally, the most precise 
 directions as to the method of drinking those mineral waters, 
 whose virtue, in his eyes, consisted in their uselessness. As 
 to the question, "Is it best to take her abroad?" the cele- 
 brated doctor pondered deeply, and the result of his reflec- 
 tions was that they might travel on condition that they would 
 not trust any quacks, and would follow his prescriptions. 
 
 After the doctor's departure, everybody felt as if some 
 great good fortune had happened. The mother, in much 
 better spirits, rejoined her daughter, and Kitty declared that 
 she was better already. It often seemed necessary of late 
 for her to hide what she really felt. 
 
 "Truly, I feel better, merman, but if you desire it, let 
 us go," said she; and in her endeavou to show what inter- 
 est she took in the journey, she began to speak of their 
 preparations. 
 
 H. 
 
 DOLLY knew that the consultation was to take place that 
 day ; and though she was scarcely yet able to go out, having 
 had a little daughter towards the end of the winter, and 
 although one of the other children was sick, she left them 
 both in order to learn what Kitty's fate should be. 
 
 " Nu! how is it? " she said, as she came in with her bon- 
 net on. " You are all happy ! Then all is well." 
 
 They endeavored to tell her what the doctor had said ; but 
 though it had been a long discourse, couched in very beau- 
 tiful language, no one was able to give the gist of it. The 
 interesting point was the decision in regard to the journey. 
 
 Dolly sighed involuntarily. She was going to lose her 
 sister, her best friend ; and life for her was not joyous. 
 Her relations with her husband seemed to her more and 
 more humiliating : the reconciliation brought about by Anna 
 had not been of long duration, and the family discords had
 
 132 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 
 
 become as unpleasant as ever. Stepan Arkady evitch was 
 scarcely ever at home, and there was scarcely ever any money 
 in the house. The suspicion that he was still unfaithful to 
 her ever tormented her ; hut as she remembered with horror 
 the sufferings caused by her jealousy, and desired above all 
 things not to break up the family, she preferred to shut her 
 eyes to his deception. But she despised her husband, and 
 despised herself because of her feebleness. And, moreover, 
 the cares of a numerous family were a heavy load. 
 
 " And how are the children? " asked the princess. 
 
 " Adi, maman! we have so many tribulations. Lili is 
 sick a-bed, and I am afraid that she is going to have the 
 scarletina. I came out to-day to see how you were, for I 
 was afraid that after this I should not have a chance." 
 
 The old prince came in at this moment, bent down his 
 cheek for Dolly to kiss, said a few words to her, and then 
 turned to his wife. 
 
 " What decision have you come to? Shall you go? Nul 
 and what are you going to do with me? " 
 
 " I think, Aleksandr, that you had better stay at home." 
 
 " Just as you please." 
 
 " Maman, why doesn't papa come with us?" said Kitty. 
 " It would be gayer for him and for us." 
 
 The old prince smoothed Kitty's hair with his hand : she 
 raised her head, and with an effort smiled as she looked at 
 him ; she felt that her father alone, though he did not say 
 much, understood her. She was the youngest, and therefore 
 her father's favorite daughter, and his love made him clair- 
 voyant, as she imagined. When her eyes met his, it seemed 
 to her that he read her very soul, and saw all the evil that 
 was working there. She blushed, and bent towards him, 
 expecting a kiss ; but he contented himself with pulling her 
 hair, and saying, 
 
 " These abominable chignons! one never gets down to the 
 real daughter. It is always the hair of some departed saint. 
 Nu! Dolinka," turning to his eldest daughter, " what is that 
 trump of yours doing? " 
 
 "Nothing, papa," said Dolly, perceiving that her father 
 referred to her husband : "he is always away from home, 
 and I scarcely ever see him," she could not refrain from 
 adding with an ironical smile. 
 
 " He has not gone yet to the country to sell his wood?" 
 
 " No : he is always putting it off."
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 133 
 
 " Truly," said the old prince, " is he taking after me? 
 I should think so," he added turning to his wife, and sitting 
 down. "And as for you, Katya," addressing his youngest 
 daughter, " do you know what you ought to do? Some fine 
 morning when you wake up, you ought to say, 'Da! how 
 happy and gay I feel ! Why not resume my morning walks 
 with papa, now that the cold is not so bitter ? ' ha ? " 
 
 At these simple words of her father's, Kitty felt as though 
 she had been convicted of a crime. "Yes, he knows all, he 
 understands all, and these words mean that I ought to over- 
 come my humiliation, however great it has been." She had 
 not the courage to reply, but burst into tears, and left the 
 room. 
 
 " Just like your tricks ! " said the princess to her husband 
 angrily. "You always" And she began one of her 
 tirades. 
 
 The prince received her reproaches at first good-humoredly 
 but at last his face changed color. 
 
 "She is so sensitive, poor little thing, so sensitive! and 
 you don't understand how she suffers at the slightest allusion 
 to the cause of her suffering. Ach! how mistaken we are in 
 people! " said the princess. And by the change in the in- 
 flection of her voice, Dolly and the prince perceived that she 
 had reference to Vrousky. 
 
 " I don't understand why there are not any laws to punish 
 such vile, such ignoble actions." 
 
 " Ach! do hear her," said the prince, with a frown, getting 
 up and going to the door as though he wanted to escape ; but 
 he halted on the threshold and said, 
 
 "There are laws, mdtushka; and if you force me to ex- 
 plain myself, I will tell }'ou that in all this trouble, you, you 
 alone, are the true culprit. There are laws against these 
 young fops, and there always will be ; and, old man that I 
 am, I should have been able to punish this barber, this villain, 
 if you had not been the first to invite him here. Da-s! and 
 now to cure her, show her to these mountebanks ! " 
 
 The prince would have made a long speech if the princess 
 had not immediately taken a humble and submissive tone, as 
 she always did when important matters came up. 
 
 " Alexaudre ! Alexandre ! " she murmured, weeping, and 
 going up to him. The prince held his peace when he saw 
 her tears. " Nu ! let it go, let it go. I know that it is hard 
 for you also. Don't weep any more. The harm is not
 
 134 ANNA KAKtiNINA. 
 
 great. God is merciful. Thank yon!" said he, not 
 knowing what he said in his emotion ; and feeling on his 
 hand the princess's kiss bedewed with tears, he left the 
 room. 
 
 Dolly with her maternal instinct would have liked to fol- 
 low Kitty to her chamber, feeling sure that a woman's hand 
 would be a relief ; but as she listened to her mother's re- 
 proaches, and her father's bitter words, she had felt the de- 
 sire to interfere in so far as her filial respect allowed. When 
 the prince went out, she said, 
 
 " I have always wanted to tell you, maman; did you know 
 that when Levin was here the last time, he intended to offer 
 himself to Kitty? He told Stiva." 
 
 " Nu! what? I do not understand " 
 
 " Perhaps Kitty refused him. Didn't she tell you? " 
 
 " No, she did not say any thing to me about either of 
 them : she is too proud. But I know that all this conies 
 from " 
 
 lt Yes ; but think ; perhaps she refused Levin. I know 
 that she would not have done so if it had not been for the 
 other and then she was so abominably deceived." 
 
 The princess felt too guilty not to affect indignation. 
 
 " Ach! I don't know any thing about it. Nowadays 
 every girl wants to live as she pleases, and not to say any 
 thing to her mother, and so it comes that ' ' 
 
 " 3/araan, I am going to see her." 
 
 u Go ! I will not prevent you," said her mother. 
 
 III. 
 
 As she entered Kitty's little boudoir, all furnished in pink 
 with vieux saxe ware, Dolly remembered with what pleasure 
 the two had decorated it the year before : how happy and 
 gay they were then ! She felt a chill at her heart as she saw 
 her sister sitting motionless on a low chair near the door, 
 her eyes fixed on a corner of the carpet. Kitty's cold and 
 stern expression vanished the moment she saw her sister 
 come in. 
 
 "I am very much afraid that when I once get home, I 
 shall not be able to leave the house for some time," said 
 Dolly, sitting down near her sister. " And that's why I 
 wanted to have a little talk with you.'*
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 135 
 
 " What about? " asked Kitty, quickly raising her head. 
 
 " What else than about your disappointment? " 
 
 " I am not disappointed about any thing." 
 
 " That'll do, Kitty. Do you really imagine that I don't 
 know any thing at all ? I know every thing ; and if you will 
 believe me, it's all about nothing at all. Who of us has not 
 been through such experiences? " 
 
 Kitty said nothing, and her face resumed its severe 
 expression. 
 
 " He is not worth the trouble that you have given yourself 
 for him," continued Darya Aleksandrovna, coming right to 
 the point. 
 
 "Da! because he jilted me!" murmured Kitty, with 
 trembling voice. " Don't speak of it, I beg of you ! " 
 
 u But what did he say to you? I am sure that he was in 
 love with you, that he is still ; but " 
 
 " Ach! nothing exasperates me so as condolences," cried 
 Kitty, in a sudden rage. Blushing, she turned around in her 
 chair, and with nervous fingers twisted the buckle on her belt. 
 
 Dolly well knew this habit of her sister when she was 
 provoked. She knew that she was capable of saying harsh 
 and cruel things in moments of petulance, and she tried to 
 calm her ; but it was too late. 
 
 " What do you wish me to understand? what is it? " cried 
 Kitty, with quick words : " that I am in love with a man 
 who does not care for me, and that I am dying of love for 
 him ? And it is my sister who says this to me ! my sister 
 who thinks that that that she shows me her sympa- 
 thy ! I hate such hypocrisy and such sympathy ! " 
 
 " Kitty, you are unjust." 
 
 " Why do you torment me? " 
 
 " I did not mean I saw that you were sad " 
 
 Kitty in her anger did not heed her. 
 
 " I have nothing to break my heart over, and don't need 
 consolation. I am too proud to love a man who does not 
 love me." 
 
 "Da! I do not say I say only one thing Tell me 
 the truth," added Daiya Aleksandrovna, taking her hand. 
 " Tell me, did Levin speak to you? " 
 
 At the name of Levin, Kitty lost all control of herself : she 
 jumped up from her chair, threw on the floor the buckle 
 which she had torn from her belt, and with quick, indignant 
 gestures, cried,
 
 136 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 " Why do you speak to me of Levin? I really don't see 
 why it is necessary for you to torment me. I have already 
 said, and I repeat it, that I am proud, and never, never 
 would I do what you have done, go back to a man who had 
 been false to me, who had made love to another woman. I 
 do not understand this : you can, but I cannot ! " 
 
 As she said these words, she looked at her sister. Dolly 
 bent her head sadly without answering ; but Kitty, instead of 
 leaving the room as she had intended to do, sat down near 
 the door again, and hid her face in her handkerchief. 
 
 The silence lasted several minutes. Dolly was thinking 
 of her tribulations. Her humiliation, which she felt only too 
 deeply, appeared to her more cruel than ever, thus recalled 
 by her sister. Never would she have believed her capable 
 of being so severe. But suddenly she heard the rustling of 
 a dress, a broken sob, and then two arms were thrown 
 around her neck. Kitty was on her knees before her. 
 
 " Dolinka, I am so unhappy ! forgive me," she murmured ; 
 and her pretty face, wet with tears, was hid in Dolly's skirt. 
 
 Possibly these tears were needed to bring the two sisters 
 into complete harmony : however, after a good cry, they did 
 not return to the subject which interested them both. Kitty 
 knew that she was forgiven, but she also knew that the cruel 
 words that had escaped her in regard to Dolly's humiliation, 
 remained heavy on her poor sister's heart. Dolly, on her 
 side, knew that she had guessed correctly, and that the pain 
 Kitty felt lay in the fact that she had refused Levin, only to 
 see herself deceived in Vronsky, and that her sister was on 
 the point of loving the first, and hating the other. Kitty 
 spoke only of the general state of her soul. 
 
 " I am not disappointed," she said, regaining her calmness 
 a little ; " but you cannot imagine how wretched, disgusting, 
 and vulgar every thing seems to me myself worse than all. 
 You cannot imagine what evil thoughts come into my mind." 
 
 ''Da! but what evil thoughts can you have?" asked 
 Dolly, with a smile. 
 
 "The most abominable, the most repulsive. I cannot 
 describe them to you. It is not melancholy, and it is not 
 weariness. It is much worse. One might say that all the 
 good that was in me had disappeared, and only the evil was 
 left. Nu! how can that be explained? " she asked, looking 
 at her sister. "Papa spoke to me a few minutes ago. It 
 seems to me that he thinks of nothing else than the need of
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 137 
 
 getting me a husband. Mamma takes me to the ball. It 
 seems to me that it is for the sole purpose of getting rid of 
 me, of getting me married as soon as possible. I know that 
 it is not true, and yet I cannot drive away these ideas. So- 
 called marriageable young men are unendurable to me. I 
 always have the impression that they are summing me up. 
 Once I liked to go into society ; it amused me ; I enjoyed 
 preparing my toilet ; now it is a bore to me, and I feel ill 
 at ease. Nu! what? The doctor nu " 
 
 Kitty stopped : she wanted to say further, that, since she 
 had felt this great change in herself, she could no longer see 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch without the most extraordinary and 
 unpleasant conjectures arising in her mind. 
 
 " Nu ! da I every thing takes a most repulsive aspect in my 
 sight," she continued. "It is a disease, perhaps it will 
 pass away. I do not feel at ease except with you and the 
 children." 
 
 " What a pity that you can't come home with me now ! " 
 
 "I will go all the same. I have had scarlatina. I will 
 persuade maman." 
 
 Kitty insisted so eagerly, that she was allowed to go with 
 her sister. Throughout the course of the disease, for it 
 proved to be the scarlatina, as Dolly had feared, she aided 
 her in taking care of the children. They soon entered upon 
 a happy convalescence without relapses ; but Kitty's health 
 did not improve, and at Lent the Shcherbatskys went 
 abroad. 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE upper society at Petersburg is remarkably united. 
 Everybody knows everybody else, and everybody exchanges 
 visits. But it has its subdivisions. Anna Arkadyevna 
 Kare"nina had friendly relations with three different circles 
 of which society was composed. The first was the official 
 circle, to which her husband belonged, composed of his col- 
 leagues and subordinates, bound together, or even further 
 subdivided, by the most varied, and often the most capricious, 
 social relations. It was difficult for Anna to comprehend 
 the sentiment of almost religious respect which at first she 
 felt for all these personages. Now she knew them, as one 
 learns to know people in a provincial city, with all their weak- 
 nesses and failings. She knew how the shoe pinched, and
 
 138 ANNA KAPNINA. 
 
 what were their relations among themselves, and to the com- 
 mon centre to which they all belonged. But this official 
 clique, in which her husband's interests lay, no longer pleased 
 her ; and she did her best to avoid it, in spite of the insinua- 
 tions of the Countess Lidia Ivanovna. 
 
 The second circle in which Anna moved was that which 
 had helped Aleksei Aleksandrovitch in his career. The pivot 
 of this wheel was the Countess Lidia Ivanovna : it was com- 
 posed of aged, ugly, charitable, and zealous women, and in- 
 telligent, learned, and ambitious men. Some one had given 
 it the sobriquet of the "conscience of Petersburg society." 
 Karenin was very much devoted to this coterie; and Anna, 
 whose flexible character easily accommodated itself to her 
 surroundings, had made friends in its number. After her re- 
 turn from Moscow, this set of people seemed to her insup- 
 portable ; it seemed as if she herself, as well as the others, 
 were unnatural : and she saw the Countess Lidia as infre- 
 quently as she possibly could. 
 
 And finally, Anna had friendly relations with the society 
 properly speaking, fashionable society, that world of balls, 
 dinner-parties, brilliant toilets which with one hand lays 
 fast hold of the Court lest it fall absolutely into the demi- 
 monde, which its members affect to despise, but whose tastes 
 are precisely similar. The bond that attracted her to this sort 
 of society was the Princess Bets}' Tverskaia, the wife of one 
 of her cousins, who enjoyed an income of a hundred and 
 twenty thousand rubles, and who had taken Anna under her 
 protection as soon as she came to Petersburg. She had a 
 great attraction for her, and rallied her on the society that 
 gathered around the Countess Lidia. 
 
 " When I am old and ugly, I will do the same," said 
 Betsy; "but a young and pretty woman like yourself has 
 as yet no place in such an as\-lum." 
 
 Anna at first had avoided as far as possible the society of 
 the Princess Betsy Tverskaia, the manner of life in these 
 lofty spheres calling for expenses beyond her means ; but 
 after her return from Moscow all this was changed. She 
 neglected her worthy old friends, and cared to go only into 
 grand society. It was there that she experienced the trou- 
 blesome pleasure of meeting Vronsky : they met oftener than 
 elsewhere at the house of Betsy, who was a Vronsky before 
 her marriage, and was an own cousin of the count. He, 
 moreover, went everywhere that he was likely to meet Anna,
 
 ANNA KAItfiNINA. 139 
 
 and, if possible, spoke to her of his love. She made no ad- 
 vances : but her heart, as soon as she saw him, instantly felt 
 the sensation of fulness which had seized her the moment 
 that they met, for the first time, near the train at Moscow ; 
 this joy, she knew, betrayed itself in her eyes, in her smile, 
 but she had not the power to hide it. 
 
 Anna at first sincerely tried to persuade herself that she 
 was angry because he persisted in forcing himself upon her ; 
 but one evening when she was present at a house where she 
 expected to meet him, and he failed to come, she perceived 
 clearl}', by the pang that went through her heart, how vain 
 were her illusions, and how her infatuation, instead of dis- 
 pleasing her, formed the ruling passion of her life. 
 
 A famous diva was singing for the second time, and all 
 the society of Petersburg was at the theatre. Vronsky saw 
 his cousin there, and, without waiting for the entr'acte, left 
 his seat in the first row, to visit her box. 
 
 " Why didn't you come to dinner? " she demanded of him ; 
 and then she added in a whisper, and with a smile, so as to 
 be heard only by him, " I admire this second sight of lovers : 
 she was not there. But come to my house after the opera." 
 
 Vronsky looked at her as though he would ask what she 
 meant, and Betsy replied with a nod. He thanked her with 
 a smile, and sat down. 
 
 " But how I miss all your pleasantries : what have become 
 of them?" continued the princess, who followed with keen 
 pleasure the progress of this passion. kk You are in love, 
 my dear ! ' ' 
 
 k 'That is all that I ask for," he replied, with a smile of 
 good-humor, " to be in love. If I complain, it is not 
 because I am not sufficiently in love ; for, to tell the truth, 
 I am beginning to lose hope." 
 
 " AY hat hope could you have?" asked Betsy, taking the 
 part of her friend: " en tendons nous" [let us have a clear 
 understanding] : but the fire in her eyes told with sufficient 
 clearness that she understood as well as he did what his hope 
 meant. 
 
 " None," replied Vronsky, laughing, and showing his reg- 
 ular white teeth. " Excuse me," he added, taking the 
 opera-glasses from his cousin's hand, in order to direct it 
 across her shoulder at one of the opposite boxes. " I fear 
 I am becoming ridiculous."
 
 140 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 He knew very well that in Betsy's eyes, and in those of 
 her world, he ran no such risk : he knew perfectly well that 
 though a man might seem ridiculous by being hopelessly in 
 love with a young girl, or an unmarried woman, he ran no 
 such risk if he made love to a married woman. Such sport 
 was grand and exciting ; and thus Vronsky, as he handed 
 back the opera-glasses, looked at his cousin with a smile 
 lurking under his mustache. 
 
 " Why didn't you come to dinner? " she asked again, un- 
 able to refrain from admiration of him. 
 
 "I suppose I must tell you: I was busy and what 
 about ? I will give you one guess out of a hundred out 
 of a thousand : you would never hit it. I have been recon- 
 ciling a husband with his wife's persecutor. Yes, fact ! " 
 
 " What ! and you succeeded? " 
 
 " Pretty nearly." 
 
 "You must tell me all about it between the acts," said 
 Betsy, rising. 
 
 " Impossible : I am going to the French Theatre." 
 
 "From Nilsson?" said Betsy incredulously, though she 
 could not have distinguished Nilsson from the poorest cho- 
 rus-singer. 
 
 " But what can I do ? I have made an appointment in order 
 to finish my act of peacemaking." 
 
 "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be saved," 
 said Betsy, remembering that she had heard somewhere some 
 such quotation. 
 
 V. 
 
 " IT'S a little improper, but so amusing, that I wanted to 
 tell you about it," said Vronsky, looking at his cousin's 
 sparkling eyes. " However, I will not mention any names." 
 
 " But I can guess? so much the better ! " 
 
 " Listen, then. Two } r oung men, just a little " 
 
 " Officers of your regiment, of course " 
 
 " I did not say that they were officers, but simply young 
 men, who had dined well ' ' 
 
 " Translated, tipsy ! " 
 
 " Possibly go to dine with a comrade : they are in very 
 excellent spirits. They see a young woman passing them in 
 a hired carriage : she turns around, and, as it seems to them, 
 looks at them and laughs. They follow her on the double-
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 141 
 
 quick. To their great surprise their beauty stops before the 
 very house where they were going : she mounts to the upper 
 floor, and they see nothing but a pair of rosy lips under a 
 veil, and a pair of pretty little feet." 
 
 " But you describe the scene so vividly as to make me be- 
 lieve that you were in the party." 
 
 ' ' Why do you accuse me so soon ? Nu I my two young 
 men climb up to their comrade's room, who was going to give 
 a farewell dinner, and these parting ceremonies compel them 
 to drink, perhaps, more than was good for them. They 
 question their host about the inmates of the house ; he knows 
 nothing at all about it: their friend's valet, to their ques- 
 tions, ' Are there any mamselles here?' replies that there are 
 a good many. After dinner the two young men go into 
 their friend's library and write a fiery letter to their unknown, 
 full of passionate protestations : they themselves carry up 
 the letter, in order to explain whatever might not be under- 
 stood." 
 
 " But why do you tell me such horrible things ? Nu ! " 
 
 " They ring. A girl comes to the door : they give her the 
 letter, telling her they are so smitten that they are ready to 
 die, then and there, where they are. The girl parleys with 
 them. Suddenl}- a gentleman appears, red as a lobster, and 
 with side-whiskers like sausages, and he unceremoniously 
 puts them out of the door, declaring that there is no one 
 there except his wife." 
 
 " How did you know that his side- whiskers were like sau- 
 sages?" demanded Betsy. 
 
 "But you shall see. I have just made peace between 
 them." 
 
 " Nu ! what came of it? " 
 
 " This is the most interesting part of the affair. The 
 happy couple prove to be a titular counsellor and his wife. 
 The titular counsellor brings a complaint, and I am obliged 
 to serve as peacemaker. What a diplomatist ! Talleyrand 
 compared to me was nobody." 
 
 " What ! did you have difficulties? " 
 
 "Davot! Listen! We began by making the very best 
 excuse that we could, as was proper enough : ' We are des- 
 perately sorry,' we said, ' for this unfortunate occurrence.' 
 The titular counsellor seemed to be calming down a little ; 
 but he felt it necessary to express his feelings, and as soon 
 as he began to express his feelings he began to get wrathy,
 
 142 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 and he said very impudent things, and I was obliged to bring 
 my diplomatic talents into requisition : ' I agree that their 
 conduct was most reprehensible, but please remember that 
 there was a misunderstanding : they were young, and had 
 just come from a good dinner. You understand ? Now they 
 are sorry from the bottom of their hearts, and beg you to 
 forgive them their fault.' The titular counsellor softened 
 still more : ' I agree with you, count, and I am ready to par- 
 don them ; but you perceive that my wife, a virtuous woman, 
 has been exposed to insult, to persecution, to the impudence 
 of good-for-nothing young ' And the impudent, good- 
 for-nothing young fellows being present, I have to exert 
 myself to calm them down, and so to resume my diplomatic 
 efforts over and over again. Every time I seem on the point 
 of success, my titular counsellor gets wrathy again, and his 
 face gets red, and his sausages begin to wag up and down, 
 and I find myself drowned in the waves of diplomatic subtle- 
 ties." 
 
 "Ach! we must tell you all about this," said Betsy to a 
 lady who at this moment came into her box. " It has 
 amused me much ! " 
 
 " Nu, bonne chance! 1 ' said she, giving Vronsky the ends 
 of her fingers, as she held her fan ; and then shrugging her 
 shoulders, so as to keep the waist of her dress from coming 
 up, she went to the front of the box, where she sat down in 
 the full blaze of gas, and in the eyes of all. 
 
 Vronsky went to the French Theatre to meet the colonel 
 of his regiment, who never failed to be present at a single 
 representation. It was with him that he wished to speak in 
 regard to his business of patching up the peace, which had 
 occupied and amused him for three days. The heroes of 
 this affair were his comrade Petritsky and a charming young 
 fellow, Prince Kerdrof, who had lately joined their regiment. 
 The principal point was, that the affair concerned the inter- 
 ests of his regiment, for both the young men belonged to 
 Vronsky's company. 
 
 Venden, the titular counsellor, had lodged with the 
 colonel a complaint that the officers had insulted his wife. 
 His young wife, Venden told the colonel, to whom he had 
 been married scarcely five months, had been to church with 
 her mother, and feeling indisposed, had engaged the first 
 izvoshchik at hand, in order to reach home quickly. The 
 officers had chased her : she had come home feeling still
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 143 
 
 more ill, in consequence of her emotion, and of having run 
 up the stairs. Venclen himself had just returned from his 
 office, when he heard voices and the sound of a bell. See- 
 ing that he had to do with a pair of drunken officers, he had 
 pitched them out of the door. He demanded that they should 
 be severely punished. 
 
 " No, it's all very well to talk," said the colonel to Vron- 
 sky, who had come at his summons to talk with him ; " but 
 Petritsky is becoming unbearable. Not a week goes by 
 without some scandal. This Tchinovnik will not stop here, 
 he will go farther." 
 
 Vrousky saw all the unpleasant consequences of this affair, 
 and he felt that a duel must not be, and that it was much 
 better to make the titular counsellor relent, and smooth over 
 the scandal. The colonel had summoned him because he 
 knew that he was a shrewd and gentlemanly man, and zealous 
 for the interests of the regiment. It was after their consul- 
 tation that Vronsky, accompanied by Petritsky and Kerdrof, 
 bad gone to carry their excuses to the titular counsellor, in 
 the hope that his name, and his epaulets of aide-de-camp, 
 might succeed in calming the angry titular counsellor. 
 Vronsky had only partially succeeded, as he had just related, 
 and the reconciliation seemed dubious. 
 
 At the theatre Vronsk}* took the colonel into the lobby, 
 and told him of the success, or rather the lack of success, 
 which had attended his mission. After reflection the colonel 
 decided to leave the matter in abeyance ; but he could not 
 help laughing as he heard Vronsky's lively description of the 
 wrath of the titular counsellor, and his repeated attempts to 
 bring him into a suitable frame of mind. 
 
 " It is a wretched piece of business, but exceedingly amus- 
 ing. Still, Kerdrof could not fight with this gentleman. And 
 how do you like Claire this evening? charming ! " said he, 
 referring to a French actress. " One can't see her too 
 often : she is always new. Let alone the French for that ! " 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE Princess Betsy left the theatre without waiting for 
 the end of the last act. She had scarcely had more than 
 time enough, after reaching home, to go into her dressing- 
 room, and scatter a little rice-powder over her long, pale
 
 144 ANNA EARfiNINA. 
 
 face, re-arrange her toilet, and order tea to be served in the 
 large drawing-room, when the carriages began to arrive at 
 her palace on the Bolshaia Morskaia. The mistress of the 
 mansion, with renewed color, and hair re-arranged, came 
 down to receive her guests. The walls of the great drawing- 
 room were hung with sombre draperies, and the floor was 
 laid with a thick carpet. On the table, which was covered 
 with a cloth of dazzling whiteness, shining in the light of 
 numberless candles, stood a silver samovar (tea-urn) and a 
 tea-service of transparent porcelain. 
 
 The princess took her place before the samovar, and drew 
 off her gloves. Servants, quick to bring chairs, were in 
 attendance, and helped with noiseless assiduity to arrange 
 the guests in two camps, the one around the princess, the 
 other in a corner of the drawing-room around the wife of 
 a foreign ambassador, a handsome lady, with black, well- 
 arched eyebrows, who was dressed in black velvet. The 
 conversation, as usual at the beginning of a reception, was 
 continually interrupted by the arrival of new faces, the offers 
 of tea, and the exchange of salutations, and seemed to be 
 endeavoring to find a common subject of interest. 
 
 " She is remarkably handsome for an actress : you can see 
 that she has studied Kaulbach," said a diplomatist in the 
 group around the ambassador's wife. " Did you notice how 
 she fell?" 
 
 "Ach! I beg of you, don't let us speak of Nilsson. 
 Nothing new can be said about her," said a great fat lady, 
 with light complexion, without either eyebrows or chignon, 
 and dressed in an old silk gown. This was the Princess Miag- 
 kaia, famous for her simplicity and frightful manners, and 
 surnamed the Enfant terrible. Princess Miagkaia was seated 
 between the two groups, listening to what was said on both 
 sides of her, and taking impartial interest in both. "This 
 very day, three people have made that same remark about 
 Kaulbach. It must be fashionable. I don't see why that 
 phrase should be so successful." 
 
 The conversation was cut short by this remark, and a new 
 theme had to be started. 
 
 " Tell us something amusing, but don't let it be naughty," 
 said the ambassador's wife, who was a mistress of the art 
 of conversation, called, by the English small talk. She was 
 addressing the diplomatist. 
 
 "They say that there is nothing more difficult, since
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 145 
 
 naughty things alone are amusing," replied the diplomatist, 
 with a smile. ''However, I will do my best. Give me a 
 theme. Every thing depends upon the theme. When you 
 get that for a background, you can easily fill it in with 
 embroidery. I often think that the celebrated talkers of the 
 past would be exceedingly embarrassed if they were alive 
 now: every thing intellectual is considered so dull." 
 
 " You are not the first to say that," remarked the ambas- 
 sador's wife, interrupting him with a smile. 
 
 The conversation began sleepily, and therefore it quickly 
 languished again. It was necessary to infuse new life ; and to 
 do this, they had recourse to an unfailing subject, gossip. 
 
 " Don't you think that there is something Louis XV. 
 about Tushkievitch? " asked some one, indicating a hand- 
 some, light-haired young man, who was standing near the 
 table. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! he's quite in the style of the drawing-rooin of 
 which he is such an important ornament." 
 
 This subject sustained the conversation, since it consisted 
 wholly of hints. It could not be treated openly, for it would 
 have brought direct reference to Tushki6vitch's love affair 
 with the Piiucess Betsy. 
 
 Around the samovar, the conversation hesitated for some 
 time upon three inevitable subjects, the news of the day, 
 the theatre, and a lawsuit which was to be tried the next day. 
 At last the same subject arose that was occupying the other 
 group, gossip. 
 
 " Have you heard that Maltishchef that is, the mother, 
 not the daughter has had a costume in cliable rose?" 
 
 "Is it possible? No ! That is delicious." 
 
 " I am astonished that with her sense, for she is sensi- 
 ble, she does not perceive how ridiculous she is." Every- 
 body found something in which to criticise and tear to pieces 
 the unfortunate Maltishchef ; and the conversation grew 
 lively, brilliant, and gay, like a flaming pyre. 
 
 The Princess Betsy's husband, a tall, good-natured man, 
 passionately fond of collecting prints, entered gently at this 
 moment. He had heard that his wife had a reception, and 
 desired to show himself in her circle. He approached the 
 Princess Miagkaia, but. owing to his noiseless step on the 
 carpet, she did not perceive him. 
 
 " How did you like Nilssou? " he asked. 
 
 " Ach ! Do you steal in upon a body that way ? How you
 
 146 ANNA KARtiNINA, 
 
 startled me ! " she cried. " Don't speak to me about the 
 opera, I beg of you : you don't know any thing about music. 
 I prefer to descend to your level, and talk with you about 
 your engravings and majolicas. Nu! What treasures have 
 you discovered lately?" 
 
 " If you would like, I will show them to you ; but you 
 would not appreciate them." 
 
 " Show them to me all the same. I am getting my educa- 
 tion among these bankers, as you call them. They have 
 lovely engravings. They like to show them." 
 
 "Have you been at the Schiitzburgs ? " asked the mis- 
 tress of the house, from her place by the samovar. 
 
 "Certainly, ma ch&re. They invited my husband and me 
 to dinner, and I have been told that at this dinner, they had 
 a sauce that cost a thousand rubles," replied the Princess 
 Miagkaia, in a loud voice calculated to be heard by all ; 
 " and it was a very poor sauce, too, something green. I 
 had to return the compliment, and I got them up a sauce 
 that cost eighty-five kopeks. 1 Every one was happy. I 
 can't afford to make thousand-ruble sauces, not I." 
 
 " She is unique," said Betsy. 
 
 "Astonishing," said another. 
 
 The Princess Miagkaia never failed of causing a sensation 
 by her speeches, and it arose from the fact that she spoke 
 with great good sense of very ordinary things, but did not 
 introduce them at suitable occasions, as was the case at the 
 present time ; but in the society where she moved, this great 
 good sense gave the effect of the most subtile wit ; her suc- 
 cess astonished even herself, and she enjoyed it none the less 
 on that account. 
 
 Taking advantage of the silence that followed, the lady of 
 the house wanted to make the conversation more general ; 
 and, turning to the ambassador's wife, she said, 
 
 "Are you sure that you will not have some tea? Then 
 come this way." 
 
 " No : we are ver}- well where we are, in this corner," re- 
 plied the latter with a smile, resuming the thread of a con- 
 versation which interested her very deeply. It concerned 
 Karen in and his wife. 
 
 " Anna is very much changed since her return from Mos- 
 cow. There is something strange about her," said one of 
 her friends. 
 
 1 One ruble, or one hundred kopeks, is worth eighty cents.
 
 ANNA KAIttiNINA. 147 
 
 " The change is due to the fact, that she brought back in 
 her train the shadow of Aleksei Vronsky," said the ambas- 
 sador's wife. 
 
 "What does that prove? There's a story in Grimm's 
 Tales a man without a shadow a man loses his shadow 
 in punishment of something or other. I, for my part, cannot 
 see where the punishment lies, but perhaps it's painful for a 
 woman to be deprived of her shadow." 
 
 " Yes, but the women who have shadows generally come 
 to some bad end," said Anna's friend. 
 
 " Hold j T our tongues ! " 1 cried the Princess Miagkaia, as 
 she heard these words. " Madame Kar^nina is a charming 
 woman, but I can't abide her husband." 
 
 "Why don't you like him?" demanded the wife of the 
 ambassador. "He is a very remarkable man. My hus- 
 band insists that there are few statesman in Europe that 
 equal him." 
 
 "My husband insists on the same thing, but I don't be- 
 lieve it," replied the princess : " if our husbands had not had 
 this idea, we should have seen Aleksei Aleksaudrovitch as he 
 really is ; and in my opinion, he is a blockhead. I only 
 whisper it, but that gives me some satisfaction. Once upon 
 a time, I used to think it was my fault because I could not 
 see wherein lay his wit ; but as soon as I said to myself, 
 under my breath, understand you, he is a blockhead, 
 all was explained. As to Anna, I agree with you entirely. 
 She is lovely and good. Is it her fault, poor woman, if 
 everybody falls in love with her, and pursues her like 
 shadows?" 
 
 ".Da/ I do not allow myself to judge her," said Anna's 
 friend, willing to avoid blame. 
 
 " Because no one follows us like a shadow, it's no sign 
 that we haven't the right to judge." 
 
 Having thus disposed of Anna's friend, the princess and 
 the ambassador's wife drew up to the table, and joined in 
 the general conversation about the King of Prussia. 
 
 " Whom have you been gossiping about?" asked Betsy. 
 
 "About the Kar6nins. The princess has been picturing 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch," replied the ambassador's wife, 
 sitting down near the table, with a smile. 
 
 "Shame that we could not have heard it," said Betsy, 
 
 1 " Pi pun ram nn yazuik!" A slang expression, literally meaning, "May your 
 tongue have the pip ! "
 
 148 ANNA KAK&NINA. 
 
 looking towards the door. "Ah! here 3-011 are at last," 
 said she, turning to Vronsky, who at that moment came in. 
 
 Vronsky knew, and met every day, all the people whom he 
 found collected in his cousin's drawing-room ; therefore he 
 came in with the calmness of a man who rejoins friends from 
 whom he has only just parted. 
 
 " Where have I come from? I must confess," said he, in 
 reply to a question from the ambassador's wife, " from the 
 Boujfes. And it seems to me with a new pleasure, although 
 'tis for the hundredth time. It is charming. It is humiliat- 
 ing to confess, but I get sleepy at the oper^; but I enjoy 
 it at Les Bouffes up to the very last minute. To-day " 
 
 He mentioned a French actress, but the ambassador's wife 
 stopped him with an expression of mock terror. 
 
 " Don't speak to us of this fright ! " 
 
 " Nw! I will hold my peace the more willingly because you 
 all know these frights." 
 
 " And you would all go there if it were as fashionable as 
 the opera," added the Princess Miagkaia. 
 
 VII. 
 
 STEPS were heard near the door, and Betsy, convinced that 
 she should see Anna appear, looked at Vronsky. He also 
 looked in the direction of the door, and his face had a 
 strange expression of joy, expectation, and almost of fear, 
 and he rose slightly from his chair. Anna came into the 
 drawing-room. She crossed the short distance between her 
 and the mistress of the mansion, with that rapid, light, but 
 decided step, which distinguished her from all the other 
 women of this circle. As usual, she stood extremely 
 straight, and, with her eyes fixed on Betsy, went directly 
 up to her, and shook hands with a smile, and with the 
 same smile she looked at Vronsky. He bowed profoundly, 
 and offered her a chair. 
 
 Anna bent her head a little, and blushed, and gave a slight 
 frown. Several of the ladies pressed around her ; she shook 
 hands with them, and then she turned to Betsy : 
 
 " I have just been at the Countess Lidia's : I wanted to 
 get away earlier, but I was detained. Sir John was there. 
 He is very interesting." 
 
 " Ach! that missionary? "
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 149 
 
 " Yes : he related many very curious things about life in 
 the Indies." 
 
 The conversation, which Anna's entrance had interrupted, 
 again wavered, like a fire that threatens to go out. 
 
 "Sir John! da. Sir John! Yes, I have seen him. He 
 speaks well. Vlasief is actually in love with him ! " 
 
 "Is it true that the youngest of the Vlasief s is going to 
 marry Tapof ? ' ' 
 
 " Yes : people say that the affair is fully decided." 
 
 " I am astonished that the parents are willing." 
 
 " They say that it is a love-match." 
 
 "A love-match? What antediluvian ideas 3-011 have! 
 Who speaks of love in our days?" said the ambassador's 
 wife. 
 
 " What is to be done about it? This foolish old custom 
 is still occasionally met with," said Vronsky. 
 
 " So much the worse for those who adhere to it: the -only 
 happy marriages that I know about are those of reason." 
 
 "Yes; but does it not often happen that these marriages 
 of reason break like ropes of sand, precisely because of this 
 love which you affect to scorn ? ' ' 
 
 " Let us see : what we call a marriage of reason is where 
 both parties take an equal risk. Love is a disease through 
 which we all must pass, like the measles." 
 
 " In that case it would be wise to find an artificial means 
 of inoculation, as in small-pox." 
 
 " When I was young I fell in love with a sacristan : I 
 should like to know what good that did me ! " said the Prin- 
 cess Miagkaia. 
 
 " No ; but, jesting aside, I believe that to know what love 
 really is, one must have been deceived once, and then been 
 set right," said the Princess Betsy. 
 
 "Even after marriage?" asked the ambassador's wife, 
 laughing. 
 
 " It is never to late to mend," said the diplomatist, quot- 
 ing the English proverb. 
 
 "But really," interrupted Betsy, "you are deceived the 
 first time, so as afterwards to get into the right path. What 
 do you say? " said she, turning to Anna, who was listening 
 to the conversation with a smile. 
 
 Vrousky looked at her, and waited for her answer with a 
 violent beating of the heart: after she had spoken, he drew 
 a long breath, as though he had escaped some danger.
 
 150 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 "I think," said Anna, playing with her glove, " that if 
 there are as many opinions as there are heads, then there are 
 as man}' ways of loving as there are hearts." 
 
 She turned quickly to Vronsk3 T . 
 
 " I have just had a letter from Moscow. They write me 
 that Kitty Shcherbatskai'a is very ill." 
 
 " Really," said Vronsky gloomily. 
 
 Anna looked at him with a severe expression. 
 
 " Doesn't this interest you? " 
 
 " On the contrary, I am very sorry. Exactly what did 
 they write you, if I may be permitted to inquire? " 
 
 Anna arose and went to Betsy. 
 
 "Will you give me a cup of tea?" she said, leaning on 
 the chair. While Betsy was pouring the tea, Vronsky went 
 to Anna. 
 
 ' ' What did they write yon ? ' ' 
 
 " I often think that men do not know what nobilit} 7 means, 
 though they are all the time talking about it," said Anna, 
 not answering his question. 
 
 " I have been wanting to tell 3*011 for a long time," she 
 added, going towards a table laden with albums. 
 
 " I don't know what your words mean," he said, offering 
 her a cup of tea. 
 
 She glanced at the sofa near, and then sat down, and he 
 instantly sat beside her. 
 
 "Yes, I have been wanting to tell you," she continued, 
 without looking at him. "You have acted badly, very 
 badly." 
 
 " Do you believe that I don't feel that I have? But whose 
 fault was it?" 
 
 " Why do you say that to me?" said she, with a severe 
 look. 
 
 " You know it yourself," he replied, without dropping his 
 eyes. 
 
 She, not he, felt the burden of the guilt. 
 
 " This simply proves that you have no heart," said she. 
 But her eyes told the story, that she knew that he had a 
 heart, and that therefore she feared him. 
 
 " What you were talking about just now was error, not 
 love." 
 
 " Remember that I have forbidden you to speak that word, 
 that hateful word," said Anna, trembling ; and instantly she 
 felt that by the use of the word " forbidden," she recog-
 
 ANNA KAKtiNINA. 151 
 
 nized a certain jurisdiction over him, and thus encouraged 
 him to speak. "For a long time I have been wanting to 
 have a talk with you," she continued, in a firm tone, looking 
 him full in the face, though her cheeks were aflame. " I 
 have come to-night on purpose, knowing that I should find 
 you here : this must come to an end. I have never had to 
 blush before any one before, and 3 T ou cause me to feel guilty 
 in my own e3'es." 
 
 He looked at her, and was struck with the new expression 
 of her beauty. 
 
 " What do you want me to do? " said he. 
 
 " I want you to go to Moscow, and beg Kitty's pardon." 
 
 " You do not want that," said he. 
 
 He felt that she was compelling herself to say one thing, 
 while she really desired something else. 
 
 "If you love me, as you say you do," she murmured, 
 " then do what will give me peace ! " 
 
 Vronsky's face lighted up. 
 
 u Don't you know that you are my life? But I don't know 
 what peace means, and I can't give it to you. Myself, my 
 love I can give 3*es, I cannot think of our being apart 
 from each other. For me, you and I are one. I see no 
 hope of peace for you or for me in the future. As I look 
 ahead, I see nothing but despair and misfortune, unless I 
 see the possibility of happiness, and what happiness ! Is it 
 really impossible?" he murmured, scarcely daring to pro- 
 nounce the words ; but she understood him. 
 
 All the forces of her mind pointed to what she ought to 
 say ; but instead of speaking, she looked at him with love 
 in her eyes, and said nothing. 
 
 " Ah ! " he said to himself, in his transport, " at the very 
 moment when I was in despair, when I thought I should never 
 succeed, it has come ! This is love ! She loves me ! It is 
 a confession." 
 
 " Do this for me : let us be good friends, and never speak 
 to me in this way again," said her words : her eyes told a 
 totally different story. 
 
 "We can never be mere friends: you yourself know it. 
 Shall we be the most miserable, or the happiest, of human 
 beings? It is for you to decide." 
 
 She began to speak, but he interrupted her. 
 
 "All that I ask is the right of hoping and suffering, as 
 I do now ; if it is impossible, order me to disappear, and I
 
 152 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 will disappear: if my presence is painful to you, you shall 
 be relieved of the sight of me." 
 
 " I do not wish to drive you from me." 
 
 "Then change nothing; let things go as they are," said 
 he, with trembling voice. " Here is your husband ! " 
 
 Indeed, Aleks6i Aleksandrovitch at that instant was enter- 
 ing the drawing-room, with his calm face and ungraceful 
 walk. 
 
 He went first to the mistress of the mansion, as he passed 
 casting a glance at Anna and Vronsky, and then he sat down 
 by the tea-table, and in his slow and well-modulated voice, 
 and in the tone of persiflage, which seemed always to deride 
 some one or some thing, he said, as he took in the assem- 
 bly, " Your Rambouillet is complete, the Graces and the 
 Muses ! " 
 
 But the Princess Betsy, who could not endure this tone of 
 derision, "sneering" she called it, with the tact of a 
 consummate hostess, quickly brought him round to a ques- 
 tion of serious interest. The forced conscription was under 
 discussion, and Aleksei Aleksandrovitch defended it with 
 vivacity against Betsy's attacks. 
 
 Vrousky and Anna still sat near their little table. " That 
 is getting rather pronounced," said a lady in a whisper, 
 referring to Kar6nin, Anna, and Vronsky. 
 
 " What did I tell you? " said Anna's friend. 
 
 These were not the only ladies who were making the same 
 remarks : the Princess Miagkaia and Betsy themselves 
 glanced more than once to the side of the room where they 
 sat alone. Only Aleksei Aleksandrovitch paid no attention 
 to them, and did not allow his thoughts to wander from the 
 interesting conversation on which he had started. 
 
 Betsy, perceiving the unfortunate effect caused by her 
 friends, executed a skilful manoeuvre so that some one else 
 could reply in her stead to Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, and 
 crossed over to Anna. 
 
 " I always admire your husband's clear and explicit lan- 
 guage," she said. " The most transcendental questions seem 
 within my reach when he speaks." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " said Anna, radiant with joy, though she did 
 not understand a word that Betsy had said. Then she arose 
 and went over to the large table, and joined in the general 
 conversation. 
 
 At the end of half an hour Aleksei Aleksaudrovitch pro-
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 153 
 
 posed to her to go home ; but she answered, without looking 
 at him, that she wished to remain to supper. Alekse"i Alek- 
 sandrovitch took leave of the company and departed. 
 
 The Karnins' coachman, an old Tartar, dressed in his 
 waterproof, was having some difficulty in restraining his 
 horses, excited with the cold. A lackey stood with his hand 
 on the door of the coupe. The Swiss was standing near the 
 outer door ; and Anna listened with ecstasy to what Vronsky 
 whispered, while she was freeing, with nervous fingers, the 
 lace of her sleeve which had caught on the hook of her fur 
 cloak. 
 
 "You made no agreement, I confess," Vronsky was say- 
 ing, as he accompanied her to the carriage, " but you know 
 that it is not friendship that I ask for : for me, the whole 
 happiness of my life is contained in that one word that you 
 despise, love." 
 
 " Love," she repeated slowly, as though she had spoken to 
 herself : then, as she disentangled her lace, she suddenly said, 
 "I do not like this word, because it has for me a sense more 
 profound, and vastly more serious, than you can imagine. 
 But till next time," she said, looking him in the face. 
 
 She reached him her hand, and, with a rapid step, passed 
 the Swiss, and disappeared in her carriage. 
 
 Her look, her pressure of his hand, overwhelmed Vronsky. 
 He kissed the palm where her fingers had touched it, and 
 went back to his quarters with the conviction that this even- 
 ing had brought him nearer to the goal of which he dreamed, 
 than all the two months past. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 ALEKSEI ALEKSANDROVITCH found nothing out of the way 
 in the fact that his wife and Vronsky had held a rather pro- 
 nounced tete-d-tete, but it seemed to him that others showed 
 some astonishment, and he resolved to keep Anna under his 
 observation. According to his usual custom, when he 
 reached home, Alekse'i Aleksandrovitch went to his library, 
 threw himself into his arm-chair, and opened his book at the 
 place marked by a paper-cutter, and read an article on 
 Papistry till the clock struck one. From time to time he 
 passed his hand across his forehead, and shook his head, as
 
 154 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 though to drive away an importunate thought. At his usual 
 hour he prepared for rest, but Anna had not yet returned. 
 With his book under his arm, he went to her room ; but 
 instead of being pre-occupied, as usual, with considerations 
 appertaining to his governmental duties, he was thinking of 
 his wife, and of the disagreeable impression which the state 
 of things caused him. Unwilling to go to bed, he walked up 
 and down with arms behind his back, feeling the necessity 
 upon him of some reflection on the events of the evening. 
 
 At first thought, it seemed to Aleksei Aleksandrovitch very 
 simple and natural to speak with his wife on the subject ; 
 but as he reflected, it came over him that the matter was 
 complicated in a most vexatious fashion. Karen in was not 
 jealous. A husband, in his eyes, offered his wife an insult 
 in showing jealously, but he saw no special reason for repos- 
 ing implicit confidence in his young wife, and for believing 
 that she would always love him. It was not this, however, 
 that he asked himself. Having hitherto been free from sus- 
 picions and doubts, he assured himself that he would have 
 absolute trust in her. Yet, as he dwelt upon these details, 
 he felt that he was placed in an illogical and absurd situa- 
 tion where he was powerless to act. Till now, he had never 
 come iu contact with the trials of life, except as they met 
 him in the sphere of his official functions. The impression 
 which the present crisis made upon him, was such as a man 
 feels, who, passing calmly over a bridge above a precipice, 
 suddenly discovers that the arch is broken, and that the abyss 
 yawns beneath his feet. 
 
 The abyss in bis case was actual life ; and the bridge, the 
 artificial existence, which, till the present time, had alone 
 been open to him. The idea that his wife could love another 
 man occurred to him for the first time, and filled him with 
 terror. 
 
 Without stopping to undress, he kept walking up and 
 down with regular steps over the echoing floors. First he 
 went through the dining-room, lighted with a single burner ; 
 then the dark drawing-room, where a feeble ray of light 
 from the door fell on his full-length portrait, which had been 
 recently painted ; and then his wife's boudoir, where two 
 candles shed their radiance on the costly bric-H-brac of her 
 writing-table, and on the portraits of parents and friends. 
 When he reached the door of her bedroom, he turned on his 
 heel.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 155 
 
 From time to time he stopped, and said to himself, " Yes, 
 this must be cut short ; I must be decided ; I must tell her 
 my way of looking at it! But what can I say? what de- 
 cision can I make? After all, what has been done? She 
 had a long talk with him But whom does not a society 
 woman talk with? To show jealousy for such a trifle would 
 be humiliating for us both." 
 
 But this reasoning, which at first sight appeared to him 
 conclusive, suddenly lost its cogenc}*. From the door of 
 her sleeping-room he returned again to the dining-room, 
 then, as he crossed the drawing-room, he thought he heard a 
 voice saying to him, "The rest seemed surprised, therefore 
 there must be something in it. Yes, the thing must be 
 broken short off ; you must be decided : but how? " 
 
 His thoughts, like his steps, followed the same circle', and 
 he struck no new idea. He recognized this, passed his hand 
 over his forehead, and sat down in her boudoir. 
 
 There, as he looked at Anna's writing-table, with its mala- 
 chite ornaments and a letter unfinished, his thoughts took 
 another direction : he thought of her, and how she would 
 feel. His imagination showed him his wife's life, the needs 
 of her heart and her intellect ; her tastes, her desires : and 
 the idea that possibly she could, that absolutely she must, 
 have an individual existence apart from his, came over him 
 so powerfully, that he hastened to put it out of his mind. 
 This was the abyss that he must fathom with his gaze. To 
 penetrate by thought and feeling into the soul of another 
 was to him a thing unknown, and seemed to him dangerous. 
 
 " And what is most terrible," he said to himself, " is that 
 this wretched uncertainty comes upon me just as I am about 
 to bring my work to completion," he referred lo a law 
 that he wished to have passed, "and when I have the 
 greatest need of all my mental powers, of all my equa- 
 nimity. What is to be done? I am not one of those who 
 cannot face their misfortunes. I must reflect : I must 
 take some stand, and get rid of this annoyance," he added 
 aloud. "I do not admit that I have any right to probe into 
 her feelings, or to scrutinize what is going on in her heart : 
 that belongs to her conscience, and comes into the domain 
 of religion," he said to himself, rejoiced that he had found 
 a law applicable to the circumstances that had arisen. 
 
 "Thus," he continued, "the questions relating to her 
 feelings are questions of conscience, in which I have no con-
 
 156 ANNA KAUlSNINA 
 
 cern. My duty lies clearly before me. Obliged, as head of 
 my family, to watch over her, to point out the dangers which 
 I see, responsible as I am for her conduct, I must, if need- 
 ful, make use of my rights." 
 
 And Aleksei Aleksandrovitch laid out, in his mind, a plan 
 by which he would speak to his wife, and all the time he re- 
 gretted the necessity of wasting his time and his intellectual 
 powers in family matters. But, in spite of him, his plan 
 assumed, in his thought, the clear, precise, and logical form 
 of a report : 
 
 " I must make her understand as follows : First, The mean- 
 ing and importance of public opinion ; Secondly, The reli- 
 gious significance of marriage ; Thirdly, The misfortunes 
 which might assail her son ; Fourthly, The misfortunes which 
 might befall herself." And Aleksei Aleksandrovitch twisted 
 his fingers together, and made the joints crack. This gesture, 
 which was a bad habit of his, calmed him, and helped to 
 bring him back to moral equilibrium, of which he stood in 
 such need. 
 
 The rumbling of the carriage was heard in front of the 
 house, and Aleksei Aleksandrovitch stopped in the middle of 
 the dining-room. He heard his wife's steps on the stair- 
 way. His sermon was all ready ; but still he stood there, 
 twisting his fingers until they cracked again. Though he was 
 satisfied with his little sermon, he trembled when he saw her 
 come, with fear of what the consequences might be. 
 
 IX. 
 
 ANNA entered with bent head, playing with the tassels of 
 her bashluik [Turkish hood]. Her face was radiant, but not 
 with joy : it was rather the terrible glow of a conflagration 
 on a cloudy sky. When she saw her husband she raised 
 her head and smiled, as though she had awakened from a 
 dream. 
 
 " You are not a-bed j'et? what a miracle ! " she said, tak- 
 ing off her bashluik; and, without pausing, she went into her 
 dressing-room, crying, " It is late, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch," 
 as she got to the door. 
 
 " Anna, I must have a talk with you." 
 
 "With me?" she said in astonishment, coming out into 
 the hall, and looking at him. " What is it? What about? "
 
 ANNA KAKNINA. 157 
 
 she demanded, ns she sat down. " Nu! let us talk, then, 
 since it is so necessary ; but I would much rather go to 
 sleep." 
 
 Anna said what came to her mind, astonished at her own 
 facility at telling a lie : her words sounded perfectly natural. 
 She seemed really to want to go to sleep : she felt sustained, 
 lifted up, by some invisible power, and clad in an impenetra- 
 ble armor of falsehood. 
 
 " Anna, I must put you on your guard." 
 
 " On my guard ! why ? " 
 
 She looked at him so gayly, so innocently, that for any 
 one who did not know her as her husband did, the tone of 
 her voice would have sounded perfectly natural. But for 
 him, who knew that he could not deviate from the least of his 
 habits without her asking the reason, who knew that her 
 first impulse was always to tell him of her pleasures and her 
 sorrows, the fact that Anna took special pains not to observe 
 his agitation, or even to speak, was very significant to him. 
 He felt, by the very tone that she assumed, that she said 
 openly and without dissimulation, "Z)a/ thus it must be, and 
 from henceforth." He felt like a man who should come home 
 and find his house barricaded against him. 
 
 "Perhaps the key will yet be found," thought Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch. 
 
 " I want to put you on } T our guard," said he, in a calm 
 voice, " against the interpretation which might be put by 
 society on your imprudence and your rashness. Your rather 
 too lively conversation this evening with Count Vronsky " 
 he pronounced this name slowly and distinctly "attracted 
 attention." 
 
 As he spoke, he looked at Anna's laughing eyes, for him 
 so impenetrable, and saw, with a feeling of terror, all the 
 idleness and uselessuess of his words. 
 
 "You are always like this," she said, as though she had 
 comprehended absolutely nothing, and attached no impor- 
 tance except to a part of his speech. " Sometimes you don't 
 like it because I am bored, and sometimes because I have a 
 good time. I was not bored this evening : has that disturbed 
 you?" 
 
 AlekseM Aleksandrovitch trembled : again he twisted his 
 fingers till the knuckles cracked. 
 
 "Ach! I beg of you, keep your hands still : I detest that," 
 said she.
 
 158 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 "Anna, is this you?" said Alekse"i Aleksandrovitch, try- 
 ing to control himself, and stop the movement of his hands. 
 
 " Da! but what is it?" she asked, with a sincere and al- 
 most comic astonishment. " What do you want of me? " 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch was silent, and passed his hand 
 across his brow and over his eyes. He felt that instead of 
 having warned his wife of her errors in the sight of the world, 
 he was agitated at what concerned her conscience, and was 
 perhaps striking some imaginary obstacle. 
 
 " This is what I wanted to say," he continued, in a cool 
 and tranquil tone, "and I beg you to listen to me until I 
 have done. As you know, I look upon jealousy as a humili- 
 ating and wounding sentiment which I would never allow 
 myself to be led awaj* by, but there are certain social barriers 
 which one cannot cross with impunity. This evening, judging 
 by the impression which you made, I am not the only one, 
 everybody noticed it, you did not conduct yourself at all in 
 a proper manner." 
 
 " Decidedly I did not please anybody," said Anna, shrug- 
 ging her shoulders. " He does not really care," she 
 thought: " all he fears is the opinion of the world. You 
 are not well, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch," she added, rising, and 
 turning to go to her room. 
 
 But he stepped up to her, and held her back. Never had 
 Anna seen his face so displeased and angry : she remained 
 on her feet, tipping her head to one side, while with quick 
 fingers she began to pull out the hair-pins. 
 
 " Nu-s! I hear you," she said, in a calm tone of banter. 
 " I shall even listen with interest, because I should like to 
 know what it's all about." 
 
 She herself was astonished at the assurance and calm 
 naturalness which she put on, as well as at her choice of 
 words. 
 
 " I have no right to examine your feelings. I think it is 
 useless and even dangerous," Aleksei Aleksandrovitch be- 
 gan. "If we probe too deeply into our hearts, we run the 
 risk of touching on what we ought not to perceive. Your 
 feelings concern your conscience. But in presence of your- 
 self, of me, and of God, I am in duty bound to remind you 
 of your obligations. Our lives are united, not by men, but 
 by God. Only by crime can this bond be broken, and such 
 a crime brings its own punishment." 
 
 " I don't understand at all. Ach! Bozhe moY, how sleepy
 
 ANNA EARfiNINA. 
 
 lam!" said Anna, still undoing her hair, and taking out 
 the last pin. 
 
 " Anna ! in the name of Heaven, don't speak so," said he 
 gently. " Maybe I am mistaken ; but believe me, what I 
 say to you is as much for your advantage as for mine : 
 I am your husband, and I love you." 
 
 A slight frown passed over Anna's face, and the mocking 
 fire disappeared from her 03*68 ; but the word " love " irri- 
 tated her. "Love!" she thought: "does he even know 
 what it means? Is it possible that he loves me? If he had 
 never heard of love, he would always have been ignorant that 
 there was such a word." 
 
 " Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, honestly, I don't know what 
 you mean," she said. " Make clear to me that you find " 
 
 " Allow me to finish. I love you, but I am not speaking 
 for myself : those who are chiefly interested are your son and 
 yourself. It is quite possible, I repeat, that my words may 
 seem idle and ill-judged : possibly they are the result of 
 mistake on my part. In that case, I beg your forgiveness ; 
 but you yourself must feel that there is some foundation for 
 my remarks, and I. earnestly urge you to reflect, and, if your 
 heart inclines you, to confide in me " 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, without noticing the fact, had 
 spoken a very different discourse from the one that he had 
 prepared. 
 
 " I have nothing to say." And she added in a sprightly 
 tone, scarcely hiding a smile, " Da! it is truly time to go 
 to bed." 
 
 Aleksei Aleksaudrovitch sighed, and, without speaking 
 further, went to his room. 
 
 When she reached the room, he was already in bed. His 
 lips were sternly set, and he did not look at her. Anna got 
 into bed, expecting that he would speak to her ; she both 
 feared it and desired it : but he said nothing. 
 
 She waited long without moving, and then forgot all about 
 him. The image of another filled her with emotion and with 
 guilty joy. Suddenly she heard a slow and regular sound of 
 snoring. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch at first was startled him- 
 self, and stopped ; but at the end of a second the snoring 
 began again with monotonous regularity. 
 
 "Too late! too late! " thought she, with a smile. She 
 remained for a long time thus, motionless, with open eyes, 
 the shining of which it seemed to her she herself could see.
 
 160 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 X. 
 
 FROM this evening a new life began for Aleksi Aleksan- 
 drovitch and his wife. There was no outward sign of it. 
 Anna continued to go into society, and especially affected 
 the Princess Betsy ; and everywhere she met Vronsky. 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch understood it, but was powerless to 
 prevent it. Whenever he tried to bring about an explanation, 
 she met him with an affectation of humorous surprise which 
 was absolutely beyond his penetration. 
 
 No change took place to outward observation, but their 
 relations were extremely variable. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, 
 a remarkably strong man in matters requiring statesmanship, 
 here found himself at his wits' end. He waited for the 
 final blow with head bent, and with the resignation of an ox 
 led to slaughter. When these thoughts came to him, he told 
 himself that once more he must try gentleness, tenderness, 
 reason, to save Anna, and bring her back to him. Every day 
 he made up his mind to speak ; but as soon as he made the 
 attempt, the same evil spirit of falsehood which possessed 
 her, seemed to la}- hold of him, and he spoke not at all in the 
 tone in which he meant to speak. Involuntarily, what he 
 said was spoken in his tone of raillery, which seemed to cast 
 ridicule on those who would speak as he did. And this tone 
 was not at all suitable for the expression of the thoughts that 
 he wished to express. 
 
 XI. 
 
 WHAT had been for Vronsky for nearly a year the only 
 and absolute aim of his life, was for Anna a dream of 
 happiness, all the more enchanting because it seemed to her 
 unreal and terrible. It was like a dream. At last the 
 waking came, and a new life began for her with a sentiment 
 of moral decadence. She felt the impossibility of expressing 
 the shame, the horror, the joy, that were now her portion. 
 Rather than put her feelings into idle and fleeting words, she 
 preferred to keep silent. As time went on, words fit to ex- 
 press the complexity of her sensations still failed to come 
 to her, and even her thoughts were incapable of translating 
 the impressions of her heart. She hoped that calmness and 
 peace would come to her, but they held aloof. Whenever she
 
 ANNA KARNINA. 161 
 
 thought of the past, and thought of the future, and thought 
 of her own fate, she was seized with fear, and tried to drive 
 these thoughts away. 
 
 " By and by, by and by," she repeated, " when I am 
 calmer." 
 
 On the other hand, when during sleep she lost all control 
 of her imagination, her situation appeared in its frightful 
 reality : almost every night she had the same dream. She 
 dreamed that she was the wife both of Vronsky and of 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch. And it seemed to her that Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch kissed her hands, and said, weeping, " How 
 happy we are now! " And Aleksei Vronsky, he, also, was 
 her husband. She was amazed that she could believe such 
 a thing impossible ; and she laughed when she seemed to 
 explain to them that every thing would simplify itself, and 
 that both would henceforth be satisfied and happy. But this 
 dream weighed on her spirits like a nightmare, and she 
 always awoke in fright. 
 
 XII. . 
 
 IN the first weeks after Levin returned from Moscow, 
 every time that with blushes and a trembling in his limbs he 
 remembered the shame of his rejection, he would say to him- 
 self, " I suffered like this, and I felt that I was ruined, when 
 I was rejected on account of my physical condition, and had 
 to go into the second class ; and it was the same when I 
 bungled in my sister's affairs, which were confided to me. 
 And now? Now the j-ears have gone by, and I look back 
 with astonishment on those young tribulations. It will be 
 just the same with my disappointment this time. Time will 
 pass, and I shall grow callous." 
 
 But three months passed away, and the callousness did 
 not come, and his pain remained as severe as on the first 
 day. What troubled him the most was, that after dreaming 
 so long of family life, after being, as he thought, so well 
 prepared for it, not only was he not married, but found him- 
 self farther than ever from the goal of marriage. Almost 
 painfully he felt, as those around him felt, that it is not good 
 for man to live alone. He remembered that before his 
 departure for Moscow he had said to his skotnik [cowhei'd], 
 Nikolai', a clever muzhik with whom he liked to talk, "Do 
 you know, Nikolai, I am thinking of getting married?"
 
 162 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 whereupon Nikolai had replied instantly without hesitation, 
 " This ought to have been long ago, Koustantin Dmitritch." 
 And now never had he been so far from marriage. The 
 place was taken : and if he had been able to settle upon some 
 young girl of his acquaintance, he felt the impossibility of 
 putting Kitty out of his heart ; the memories of the past 
 still tormented him. It was idle to say that he had com- 
 mitted no sin : he blushed at these memories as deeply as 
 though they had been the most disgraceful of his life. The 
 feeling of his humiliation, slight as it really was, weighed 
 heavier on his conscience than any of the evil deeds of his 
 past. It was a wound that refused to heal. 
 
 Time and labor, however, brought their balm : the painful 
 impressions little by little began to fade in presence of the 
 events of the country life, important in reality, in spite of 
 their apparent insignificance. Every week brought some- 
 thing by which to remember Kitty : he even began to await 
 with impatience the news of her marriage, hoping that this 
 event would bring healing in the same way as the pulling of 
 a tooth. 
 
 Meantime spring came, beautiful, friendly, without treach- 
 ery or false promises, a spring such as fills plants and 
 animals, no less than men, with joy. This splendid season 
 gave Levin new zeal : it confirmed his resolution to tear him- 
 self from the past so as to re-organize his life on conditions 
 of permanence and independence. The plans that he had 
 formed on his return to the country had not all been realized, 
 but what was most essential, the purity of his life had not 
 been stained. He could look in the faces of those who sur- 
 rounded him without any humiliating sense of having fallen, 
 or any loss of self-esteem. 
 
 Towards the month of February, Marya Nikolayevna had 
 written him that his brother's health was failing, and that 
 it was impossible to take proper care of him. This letter 
 brought him immediate!}' to Moscow, where he persuaded 
 Nikolai to consult a physician, and then to take the baths 
 abroad : he even induced him to accept a loan for the jour- 
 ney. Under these circumstances he could, therefore, be sat- 
 isfied with himself. Besides his farm-labors and his ordinary 
 reading, Levin undertook, during the winter, a stud} 7 of rural 
 economy, in which he began with this premise, that the 
 laborer's temperament is a more important factor than cli- 
 mate or the nature of the soil : agronomic science, according
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 163 
 
 to him, must not neglect either of these three equally im- 
 portant elements. 
 
 His life, therefore, was very busy and full, in spite of his 
 loneliness : the only thing that he felt the lack of was the 
 possibility of sharing the ideas that came to him with any 
 one besides his old nurse. However, he brought himself to 
 discuss with her about physics, the theories of rural economy, 
 and, above all, philosophy, which was Agafya Mikhailovna's 
 favorite subject." 
 
 The spring was rather late. During the last weeks of 
 Lent the weather was clear, but cold. Though during the 
 day the snow melted in the sun, at night the mercury went 
 down to seven degrees : the crust on the snow was so thick 
 that wheels did not sink through. 
 
 It snowed on Easter Sunday. Then suddenl}-, on the fol- 
 lowing day, a south wind blew up, the clouds drifted over, 
 and for three days and three nights a warm and heavy rain 
 fell ceaselessly. On Thursday the wind went down, and 
 then over the earth was spread a thick gray mist, as if to 
 conceal the mysteries that were accomplishing in nature : 
 the ice, in every direction, was melting and disappearing, the 
 rivers overflowed their banks, the brooks came tumbling 
 down, with foamy, muddy waters. Towards evening the 
 Red Hill began to show through the fog, the clouds drifted 
 away, like white sheep, and spring, spring in reality, was 
 there in all her brilliancy. The next morning a bright sun 
 melted away the thin scales of ice which still remained, and 
 the warm atmosphere grew moist with the vapors rising from 
 the earth ; the dry grass immediately took a greenish tint, 
 and the young blades began to peep from the sod, like mil- 
 lions of tiny needles ; the buds on the birch-trees, the goose- 
 berry bushes, and the snowball-trees, swelled with sap, and 
 around their branches swarms of hone3^-bees buzzed in the 
 sun. Invisible larks sent forth their songs of joy, to see the 
 prairies freed from snow ; the lapwings seemed to mourn for 
 their mai-shes, submerged by the stormy waters ; the wild 
 swans and geese flew high in the air, with their calls of 
 spring. The cows, with rough hair, and places worn bare 
 by the stanchions, lowed as they left their stalls ; around 
 the heavy-fleeced sheep gambolled awkwardly the young 
 lambs ; children ran barefoot over the wet paths, where their 
 footprints were left like fossils ; the peasant-women gossij)ed 
 gayly around the edge of the pond, where they were bleach-
 
 164 ANNA KAKtiNINA. 
 
 ing their linen ; from all sides resounded the axes of the 
 muzhiks, repairing their sokhi (Russian ploughs) and their 
 wagons. Spring had really come. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 FOR the first time Levin left off his sliuba [fur cloak], and 
 clad more lightly, and shod in his heavy boots, he went out, 
 tramping through the brooklets, as they glanced in the sun, 
 and stepping, now on a cake of ice, and now in deep mud. 
 
 Spring is the epoch of plans and projects. Levin, as he 
 went out, was not decided upon what he would first take in 
 hand, any more than the tree knows how and why the young 
 sprouts push out, and the young branches clothe themselves 
 with buds ; but he felt that he was going to originate the 
 most charming projects and the most sensible plans. 
 
 He went first to see his cattle. The cows were let out 
 into the yard, and were warming themselves in the sun, low- 
 ing as if to beg permission to go out to pasture. Levin 
 knew them all, even to the least. He examined them with 
 satisfaction, and gave orders to the enraptured cowboy to take 
 them to pasture, and to let out the calves. The milkmaids, 
 gathering up their petticoats, and leaping into the mud with 
 bare feet, white as yet, and free from tan, chased the frisky 
 calves about, and with dry sticks kept them from escaping 
 from the yard. 
 
 The yearlings were uncommonly beautiful ; the oldest had 
 already reached the size of ordinary cows : and Pava's 
 daughter, three months old, was as big as a yearling. Levin 
 admired them, and ordered their troughs to be brought out, 
 and their food to be given them in reslidiki. He found, how- 
 ever, that these reshdtki, or portable palisades, which had 
 been made in the autumn, were out of repair because they 
 had not been needed. He had the carpenter sent for, who 
 was supposed to be busy repairing the threshing-machine ; 
 but he was not there. He was repairing the ploughs, which 
 should have been done during Lent. Levin was veiy indig- 
 nant. Oh this everlasting procrastination, against which he 
 had so long struggled in vain ! The reshdtki, as he soon 
 learned, not having been in use during the winter, had been 
 carried to the stable, where, as they were of light construc- 
 tion, they had been broken.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 165 
 
 As to the ploughs and harrows, which should have been put 
 in order during the winter months, and he had hired three 
 carpenters, nothing at all was in proper condition. Levin 
 summoned the prikashchik : then, angry at the delay, he him- 
 self went in search of him. The prikashchik, as radiant as 
 the whole universe, came at his master's call, dressed in a 
 light lambskin tuluptchika, twisting a straw between his 
 fingers. 
 
 kt Why isn't the carpenter at work on the threshing-ma- 
 chine?" 
 
 " Da! that is what I wanted to tell you, Konstantin Dmi- 
 tritch: the ploughs had to be repaired! We've got to 
 plough." 
 
 " Dal what have you been doing this winter ? " 
 
 " Da! but why do you have such a carpenter? " 
 
 " Where are the reshdtki for the calves? " 
 
 "I ordered them to be put in place. You can't do any 
 thing with such people," replied the prikashchik, making 
 with his hands a gesture of despair. 
 
 "It is not these people, but this prikashchik, with whom 
 nothing can be done," said Levin, getting still more angry. 
 " Nu ! what do we pay you for? " he shouted ; but recollect- 
 ing that shouts did not do any good, he stopped, and con- 
 tented himself with a sigh. " Nu! can you get the seed in 
 yet? " he demanded, after a moment of silence. 
 
 " Back of Turkino we could to-morrow, or the day after." 
 
 " And the clover? " 
 
 " I sent Vasili and Mishka to sow it, but I don't know 
 whether they succeeded : the ground isn't thawed out yet." 
 
 4 ' On how many desyatins ? ' ' 
 
 "Six" [14^ acres]. 
 
 "Why not the whole?" cried Levin angrily. He was 
 furious to learn, that instead of sowing down twenty-four 
 desyatins, they had only planted six : he knew by his own 
 experience, as well as by theory, the need of sowing the 
 clover-seed as early as possible after the snow was gone, and 
 it never was done. 
 
 " Not enough people. What can you do with these men? 
 The three hired men did not come ; and then Simon " 
 
 " Nu! you would better have taken them away from the 
 straw." 
 
 " Da ! I did that very thing." 
 
 " Where are all the people? "
 
 166 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 " There are five at the compote [he meant to say compost~\ : 
 four are moving the oats, so that they should not spoil, 
 Konstantin Dmitri tch." 
 
 Levin knew very well that these words, " So that it should 
 not spoil," meant that his English oats saved for seed were 
 already ruined. Again they had disobeyed his orders. 
 
 "Da! But did I not tell you during Lent to put in the 
 veutilatiug-chimneys ? " he cried. 
 
 " Don't you be troubled : we will do all in good time." 
 
 Levin, furious, made a gesture of dissatisfaction, and went 
 to examine his oats in the granary : then he went to the 
 stables. The oats were not yet spoiled, but the workmen 
 were stirring them up with shovels instead of simply letting 
 it down from one story to the other. Levin took away two 
 hands to send to the clover-field. Little by little his spirit 
 calmed down in regard to his prikashchik. It was such a 
 lovely day that one could not keep angiy. " Ignat," he 
 cried to his coachman, who, with upturned sleeves, was 
 washing the carriage near the pump, " saddle me a horse." 
 
 "Which one?" 
 
 "Nul Kolpik." 
 
 "I will obey." 
 
 While the saddle was being adjusted, Levin called the 
 prikashchik, who was busying himself in his vicinity, hoping 
 to be restored to favor. He spoke with him about the work 
 that he wanted done during the spring, and about his plans 
 for carrying on the estate ; he wanted the compost spread as 
 soon as possible, so as to have this work done before the first 
 mowing ; then he wanted the farthest field ploughed, so that 
 it might be left fallow. All the fields not half of them 
 should be attended with the laborers. 
 
 The prikashchik listened attentively, doing his best evi- 
 dently to approve of his master's plans. But his face was 
 so long and melancholy, that he alwa3 - s seemed to say, 
 "This is all very well and good, but as God shall give." 
 
 This tone vexed and almost discouraged Levin, but it was 
 common to all the prikashchiks that had ever been in his ser- 
 vice. They all received his projects with a dejected air ; and 
 so he had made up his mind not to get vexed about it, and 
 he did his best to struggle against this unhappy "As God 
 shall give," which he looked upon as a sort of elementary 
 obstacle fated to oppose him everywhere. 
 
 "If we have time, Konstantin Dmitritch."
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 167 
 
 " Why shall we not have time? " 
 
 "We shall have to hire fifteen more workmen, but we 
 can't get them. One came to-day who asked seventy rubles 
 for the summer." 
 
 Levin did not speak. Always the same stumbling-block. 
 He knew that however he might exert himself, he never 
 could hire more than thirty-seven or thirty-eight laborers at 
 a reasonable price : once or twice he had succeeded in get- 
 ting forty, never more ; but he wanted to try it again. 
 
 "Send to Suri, to Chefirovka: if they don't come, we 
 must go for them." 
 
 "I'm going to go," said Vasili Fedorovitch gloomily. 
 " Da vot! The horses are very feeble." 
 
 "Buy some more: da! but I know," he added with a 
 laugh, "that you will do as little and as badly as yon can. 
 However, I warn you that I will not let you do as you please 
 this year. I shall take the reins in my own hands." 
 
 "Da! but you sleep too much, it seems to me. We are 
 very happy to be under our master's eyes " 
 
 " Now, have the clover put in on the Berezof land, and I 
 shall come myself to inspect it," said he. mounting his little 
 horse, Kolpik, which the coachman brought up. 
 
 " Don't go across the brooks, Koustantin Dinitritch," 
 cried the coachman. 
 
 "Nu! By the woods." 
 
 And on his little, easy-going ambler, which whinneyed as 
 it came to the pools, and which pulled on the bridle in the 
 joy of quitting the stable, Levin rode out of the muddy 
 court-yard, and picked his way across the open fields. 
 
 The joyous feeling that he had experienced at the house 
 and the barn-yard increased all the time. The loping of his 
 excellent, gentle ambler swung his body gently to and fro. 
 He drank in great draughts of warm air, slightly freshened 
 by the chill snow which still lay on the ground in spots. 
 Every one of his trees, with greening moss, and buds ready to 
 burst, filled his heart with pleasure. As he came out on the 
 enormous stretch of the fields, they seemed like an immense 
 carpet of velvet where there was not a bare spot or a marsh, 
 but here and there patches of snow. The sight of a peas- 
 ant's mare and colt treading down his fields did not anger 
 him, but he ordered a passing muzhik to drive them out. 
 With the same gentleness he received the sarcastic and 
 impudent answer of a peasant. He said, " Ipat, shall we
 
 168 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 put in the seed before very long? " And Ipat replied, " We 
 must plough first, Konstantin Dmitritch." The farther he 
 went, the more his good-humor increased, and the more his 
 plans for improving his estate developed, each seeming to 
 surpass the other in wisdom, to protect the fields on the 
 south by lines of trees which would keep the snow from 
 staying too long ; to divide his arable fields into nine parts, 
 six of which should be well dressed, and the other three 
 devoted to fodder ; to build a cow-yard in the farthest cor- 
 ner of the estate, and have a pond dug ; to have portable 
 enclosures for the cattle, so as to utilize the manure ; and 
 thus to cultivate three hundred desyatins of wheat, a hun- 
 dred desyatins of potatoes, and one hundred and fifty of 
 clover, without exhausting the soil. 
 
 Full of these reflections, he picked his way carefully along 
 so as not to harm his fields : he at last reached the place 
 where the laborers were sowing the clover. The telyega 
 loaded with seed, instead of being hauled on the road, had 
 been driven out into the middle of the field, leaving heavy 
 wheel-tracks over his winter wheat, which the horse was 
 trampling down with his feet. The two laborers, sitting by 
 the roadside, were smoking their pipes. The clover-seed, 
 instead of having been sifted, was thrown into the telyega 
 mixed with hard and dry lumps of dirt. 
 
 Seeing the master coming, the laborer Vasili started towards 
 the telyega, and Mishka began to sow. This was all wrong, 
 but Levin rarely got angry with his muzhiks. When he 
 reached Vasili, he ordered him to take the horse out of the 
 telyega, and lead him to the roadside. 
 
 " It won't do any harm, sir : it will spring up again." 
 
 " Obey me, without discussing," replied Levin. 
 
 " I will obey," said Vasili, taking the horse by the head. 
 "What splendid seed, Konstantin Dimtritch," he added, to 
 regain favor. " I never saw any better. But it is slow 
 work. The soil is so heavy, that you seem to drag a pud 
 on each foot." 
 
 " Why wasn't the field harrowed?" demanded Levin. 
 
 " Oh ! it'll come out all right," replied Vasili, taking up a 
 handful of seed, and rubbing it between his fingers. 
 
 It was not Vasili' s fault that the field had not been har- 
 rowed, or the seed sifted ; but Levin was not less provoked. 
 He dismounted, and, taking the seed-cod from Vasili, began 
 to sow the clover.
 
 ANNA EARtiNINA. 169 
 
 " Where did you stop? " 
 
 Vasili touched the spot with his foot, and Levin went on 
 with the work as best he could ; but it was as hard as wading 
 through a marsh, and after a little he stopped all in a sweat, 
 and returned the seed-cod to the muzhik. 
 
 " Nu! Bar in [Lord], I don't like to do slack work," said 
 Vasili in his muzhik dialect. " What is good for the master 
 is good for us. And look yonder at that field : the sight of 
 it delights my heart." 
 
 " It is a fine spring." 
 
 11 Da! it is such a spring as our forbears never saw. I 
 was at our village, and our starik [elder] has already put in 
 his Turkish wheat, as he says he can hardly tell it from rye." 
 
 " But how long have you been sowing Turkish wheat? " 
 
 " It was you yourself who taught us how to sow it. You 
 gave us two measures last year. ' ' 
 
 " Nu! look here," said Levin, as he started to mo'unt his 
 ambler, " look at Mishka ; and if the seed comes up well, 
 you shall have fifty kopeks a desyatin" [40 cents for 2.7 
 acres] . 
 
 " We thank you humbly : we should be content even with- 
 out that." 
 
 Levin mounted his horse, and rode off to visit his last-year's 
 clover-field, and then to the field which was already ploughed 
 ready for the summer wheat. Levin rode back by way of the 
 brooks, hoping to find the water lower : in fact, he found that 
 he could get across ; and, as he waded through, he scared up 
 a couple of wild ducks. 
 
 "There ought to be snipe," he thought; and a forester, 
 whom he met on his way to the house, confirmed his suppo- 
 sition. 
 
 He immediately spurred up his horse, so as to get back in 
 time for dinner, and to prepare his gun for the evening. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 JUST as Levin reached home, in the best humor in the 
 world, he heard the jingling of bells at the side entrance. 
 
 "Da! some one from the railroad station," was his first 
 thought: "it's time for the Moscow train. Who can 
 have come? brother Nikolai? Did he not say, that instead 
 of going abroad he might perhaps come to see me? "
 
 170 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 For a moment it occurred to him that this visit might spoil 
 his plans for the spring ; but, disgusted at the selfishness of 
 this thought, his mind instantly received his brother with 
 open arms, so to speak, and he began to hope, with affec- 
 tionate joy, that it was really he whom the bell announced. 
 
 He quickened his horse, and as he came out from behind 
 a hedge of acacias, which hid the house from his sight, he 
 saw a traveller, dressed in a shuba, sitting in a hired troika 
 [three-span]. It was not his brother. 
 
 "I only hope it is some one whom I can talk with," he 
 thought. 
 
 "Ah !" he cried, as he recognized Stepan Arkadyevitch, 
 "here is the most delectable of guests. Ach! how glad I 
 am to see you ! I shall certainly learn from him if Kitty 
 is married," he added, to himself. 
 
 Not even the memory of Kitty pained him this splendid 
 spring morning. 
 
 "You scarcely expected me, I suppose," said Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch, leaping out of the sledge, his face spotted 
 with mud, but radiant with health and pleasure. "I am 
 come, first, to see you ; secondly, to fire off a gun or two ; 
 and thirdly, to sell my wood at Yergushovo." 
 
 "Perfect, isn't it? What do you think of this spring? 
 But how could you have got here in a sledge? " 
 
 " Sledge is better than telytga, Konstantin Dmitritch." 
 replied the driver, who was an old acquaintance. 
 
 "Nu! Indeed, I am delighted to see you again," said 
 Levin, with a smile of boyish joy. 
 
 He conducted his guest to the room which was always 
 kept in readiness for visitors, and instantly had the traps 
 brought up, a gripsack, a gun in its case, and a box of 
 cigars. Levin, leaving him to wash and dress himself, went 
 out to see the irrikashchik, and deliver his mind about the 
 clover and the ploughing. 
 
 Agafya Mikhailovna, who had very much at heart the 
 honor of the mansion, stopped him on his way through the 
 entry, and asked him a few questions about dinner. " Do 
 just as you please," replied Levin, as he went out, "only 
 make haste about it." 
 
 When he returned, Stepan Arkad} T evitch, smiling after his 
 toilet, was just coming out of his room, and together they 
 went up-stairs. 
 
 " Nu! I am very happy to have got out to your house at
 
 ANNA KARfiNlNA. 171 
 
 last. I shall now learn the mystery of your existence. 
 Truly, 1 envy yon. What a house ! How convenient 
 every thing is! how bright and delightful!" said Stepan 
 Arkach'evitch, forgetting that bright days and the spring- 
 time were not always there. "' And your old nurse, what 
 a charming old soul ! All that's lacking is a pretty little 
 chambermaid, but that does not fall in with your severe 
 and monastic style ; but this is very good." 
 
 Among other interesting news, Stepan Arkadyevitch told 
 his host that Sergei Ivauovitch expected to come into the 
 country this summer ; but he did not say a word about the 
 Shcherbatskys, and he simply transmitted his wife's cordial 
 greeting. Levin appreciated this delicacy. As usual, he had 
 stored up during his hours of solitude a throng of ideas and 
 impressions which he could not share with any of his domes- 
 tics, and which he poured out into Oblonsky's ears : every- 
 thing passed under review, his spring joys, his plans and 
 farming projects, and all the criticisms on the books about 
 agriculture which he had read, and above all the skeleton of 
 a work which he himself proposed to write, on the subject 
 of the rural commune. Stepau Arkadyevitch, amiable, aud 
 always ready to grasp a point, showed unusual cordiality ; 
 and Levin even thought that he noticed a certain flattering 
 consideration and an undertone of tenderness in his bearing. 
 
 The united efforts of Agafya Mikhailovna and the cook 
 resulted in the two friends, who were half starved, betaking 
 themselves to the zakuska [lunch-table] before the soup was 
 served, and devouring bread and butter, cold chicken and 
 salted mushrooms, and finally in Levin calling for the soup 
 before the little pasties, prepared by the cook in the hope of 
 dazzling the guest, were done. But Stepau Arkadyevitch, 
 though he was used to different kinds of dinners, found 
 every thing exactly to his mind : the home-brewed liquors, 
 the bread, the butter, and especially the cold chicken, the 
 mushrooms, the shchi [cabbage-soup], the fowl with white 
 sauce, aud the Krimean wine, were delicious. 
 
 "Perfect! perfect!" he cried, as he lit a big cigarette 
 after the second course. " I feel as if I had escaped the 
 shocks and noise of a ship, and had landed on a peaceful 
 shore. And so you say that the element represented by the 
 workingman ought to be studied above all others, and be 
 taken as a guide in the choice of economic expedients. I 
 ana a profanus in these questions, but it seems to me that
 
 172 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 this theory and its applications would have an influence on 
 the workingman " 
 
 " Yes ; but hold on : I am not speaking of political 
 economy, but of rural economy, considered as a science. 
 You must study the premises, the phenomena, just the same 
 as in the natural sciences ; and the workingman, from the 
 economical and ethnographical point of view " 
 
 But here Agafya Mikhai'lovna entered with the dessert of 
 preserves. 
 
 " Nu! accept my compliments, Agafya Mikhai'lovna," said 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch, kissing the ends of his hairy fingers. 
 "What nice pickles! What delicious beer ! Well, Kostia, 
 isn't it time to go? " he added. 
 
 Levin looked out of the window towards the sun, which 
 was sinking behind the tree-tops, still bare and leafless. 
 
 '' It is time. Kuzma, have the horses hitched up," he 
 cried, as he went down-stairs. Stepan Arkadyevitch fol- 
 lowed him, and set to work carefully to remove his gim 
 from the case : it was a gun of the newest pattern, and very 
 expensive. 
 
 Kuzma, who foresaw a generous fee, gave him assiduous 
 attention, and helped him put on his stockings and his hunt- 
 ing-boots ; and Stepan Arkadyevitch accepted his aid com- 
 placently. 
 
 " If the merchant Rabinin comes while we are gone, Kos- 
 tia, do me the favor to have him kept till we get back." 
 
 " Are you going to sell your wood to Rabinin? " 
 
 " Yes. Do }xm know him ? " 
 
 " Oh ! certainly I know him. I have done business with 
 him, positively and finally." 
 
 Stepan Arkad}'evitch burst into a laugh. " Positively and 
 finally " were the favorite words of the merchant. 
 
 "Yes: he is very droll in his speech! She knows 
 where her master is going," he added, patting Laska, who 
 was jumping and barking around Levin, licking now his 
 hand, now his boots and gun. 
 
 A dolgusha (hunting-wagon) was waiting at the steps as 
 they came out. 
 
 " I had the horses put in, although we have but a little 
 distance to go," said Levin ; " but if you would rather walk, 
 we can." 
 
 " No, I would just as lief ride," replied Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch, as he mounted the dolgusha. He sat down, tucking
 
 ANNA KAItfiNINA. 173 
 
 round his legs a striped plaid, and lit a cigar. " How can 
 3-011 get along without smoking, Kostia? A cigar it is not 
 only a pleasure, it is the very crown and sign of delight. 
 This is life indeed. How delicious ! Vot-bui, I should like 
 to live like this." 
 
 ** What's to prevent? " asked Levin, with a smile. 
 
 " Yes ; but you are a happy man, for you have every thing 
 that you like. You like horses, you have them ; dogs, you 
 have them ; hunting, here it is ; an estate, here it is ! " 
 
 " Perhaps it is because I enjoy what I have, and don't 
 covet what 1 have not." replied Levin, with Kitty in his 
 mind. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch understood, and looked at him with- 
 out speaking. 
 
 Levin was grateful because Oblonsky had not yet men- 
 tioned the Shcherbatskys, and had understood, with his usual 
 tact, that it was a subject which he dreaded ; but now he 
 felt anxious to find out how matters stood, but he did not 
 like to inquire. 
 
 "Nu! how go your affairs?" he asked at last, blaming 
 himself for thinking only of his selfish interests. 
 
 Oblonsky's e\ r es glistened with gayety. 
 
 " You will not admit that one can want hot rolls when he 
 has his monthly rations ; in your eyes, it is a crime : but for 
 me, I cannot admit the possibility of living without love," 
 he replied, construing Levin's question in his own fashion. 
 " What is to be done about it? I am so constituted, and I 
 can't see the harm that it does." 
 
 " What ! is there somebody else? " Levin demanded. 
 
 ''There is, brother! You know the type of the women 
 in Ossian ? these women that one sees only in dreams ? But 
 they really exist, and are terrible. Woman, you see, is an 
 inexhaustible theme : you can never cease studying it, and it 
 always presents some new phase." 
 
 " So much the better not to study it, then." 
 
 " Not at all. Some matimatik said that happiness con- 
 sisted in searching for truth, and never finding it." 
 
 Levin listened, and said no more ; but it was idle for him 
 to enter into his friend's soul, and understand the charm 
 which he took in studies of this sort.
 
 174 ANNA EAR&NINA. 
 
 XV. 
 
 TITK place where Levin took Oblonsky was not far away, 
 by a shallow stream, flowing through an aspen-grove : he 
 posted him in a mossy nook, somewhat marshy where the 
 snow had just melted. He himself went to the opposite 
 side, near a double birch, rested his gun on one of the lower 
 branches, took off his kaftan, clasped a belt about his waist, 
 and moved his arms to see that nothing bound him. 
 
 Old Laska, following him step by step, sat down cau- 
 tiously in front of him, and pricked up her ears. The sun 
 was setting behind the great forest, and against the eastern 
 sky the young birches and aspens stood out distinctly, with 
 their bending branches and their swelling buds. 
 
 In the forest, where the snow still lay, the sound of run- 
 ning waters could be heard : little birds were chirping, and 
 flying from tree to tree. Sometimes the silence seemed 
 broken only by the rustling of the dry leaves, moved by the 
 thawing earth or the pushing herbs. 
 
 " Why, one really can hear the grass grow! " said Levin 
 to himself, as he saw a moist and slate-colored aspen-leaf 
 raised by the blade of a young herb starting from the sod. 
 He was on his feet, listening and looking, now at the moss- 
 covered ground, now at the watchful Laska, now at the bare 
 tree-tops of the forest, which swept like a sea to the foot of 
 the hill, and now at the darkening sky, where floated bits of 
 little white clouds. A vulture flew aloft, slowly flapping his 
 broad wings above the forest : another took the same direc- 
 tion and disappeared. In the thicket the birds were chirping 
 louder and gayer than ever. An owl, in the distance, lifted 
 his voice. Laska pricked up her ears again, took two or 
 three cautious steps, and bent her head to listen. On the 
 other side of the stream a cuckoo twice uttered its feeble 
 notes, and then ceased hoarsely and timidly. 
 
 "Why! the cuckoo has come!" said Stepau Arkady e- 
 vitch, leaving his place. 
 
 "Yes, I hear," said Levin, disgusted that the silence of 
 the forest was broken, by the sound even of his own voice. 
 
 " Stepan Arkadyevitch returned to his place behind his 
 thicket, and nothing more was seen of him except the flash 
 of a match and the red glow of his cigarette and a light 
 bluish smoke.
 
 ANNA KAittiNiNA. 175 
 
 " Tchik! tchik ! " Stepan Arkadyevitch cocked his gun. 
 
 " What was that making that noise? " he demanded of his 
 companion, attracting his attention to a strange sound, like 
 a child imitating the neighing of a horse. 
 
 li Don't you know what that is? That is the male rabbit. 
 Da! don't speak tiny more," cried Levin, in turn cocking 
 his gun. A whistle was heard in the distance, with that 
 rhythmic regularity which the huntsman knows so well : then 
 a moment or two later it was repeated nearer, and suddenly 
 changed into a hoarse little cry. Levin turned his eyes to the 
 right, to the left, and finally saw, just above his head, against 
 the fading blue of the sky, above the gently waving aspens, 
 a bird Hying towards him : its cry, like the noise made by 
 tearing cloth, rang in his ears ; then he distinguished the long 
 beak and the long neck of the snipe, but hardly had he caught 
 sight of it when a red flash shone out from behind Oblou- 
 sky's bush. The bird fluttered in the air, as though struck, 
 and turned to fly up again ; but again the light flashed ; and 
 the bird, vainly striving to rise, flapped its wings for a sec- 
 ond and fell heavily to earth. 
 
 "Did I miss?" asked Stepan Arkadyevitch, who could 
 see nothing through the smoke. 
 
 " Here she is," cried Levin, pointing to Laska, who with 
 one ear erect, and with slightly wagging tail, slowly, as 
 though to lengthen out the pleasure, came back with the bird 
 in her mouth, seeming almost to smile as she laid the game 
 down at her master's feet. 
 
 " Nu! I am glad you hit," said Levin, though he felt a 
 slight sensation of envy. 
 
 "The left barrel missed: beastly gun !" replied Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch. " Sh! Here's another." 
 
 In fact, the whistles came thicker and thicker, rapid and 
 sharp. Two snipe flew over the hunters, chasing each other ; 
 four shots rang out ; and the snipe, turning on their track 
 like swallows, disappeared from sight. 
 
 The sport was excellent. Stepan Arkadyevitch killed two 
 others, and Levin also two, one of which was lost. It grew 
 darker and darker. Venus, with silvery light, shone out in 
 the west ; and in the east, Arclurtis gleamed, with his sombre, 
 reddish fire. At intervals, Levin saw the Great Bear. No 
 more snipe appeared ; but Levin resolved to wait until Venus, 
 which was visible through the branches of his birch-tree, rose
 
 176 ANNA EAR&NINA. 
 
 clear above the hills on the horizon, and till the Great Bear 
 was entirely visible. The star had passed beyond the birch- 
 trees, and the wain of the Bear was shining out clear in the 
 sky, and he was still waiting. 
 
 " Isn't it getting late? " asked Stepan Arkadyevitch. 
 
 All was calm in the forest : not a bird moved. 
 
 " Let us wait a little," replied Levin. 
 
 " Just as you please." 
 
 At this moment they were not fifteen steps apart. 
 
 " Stiva," cried Levin suddenly, " you have not told me 
 whether your sister-iu-law is married yet, or whether she 
 is to be married soon." He felt so calm, his mind was so 
 thoroughly made up, that nothing, he thought, could move 
 him. But he did not expect Stepan Arkadyevitch's answer. 
 
 " She is not married, and she is not thinking of marriage. 
 She is veiy ill, and the doctors have sent her abroad. They 
 even fear for her life." 
 
 " What did you say? " cried Levin. " 111? What is the 
 matter? How did she " 
 
 AVhile they were talking thus, Laska, with ears erect, was 
 gazing at the sky above her head, and looking at them 
 reproachfully. 
 
 "It is not the time to talk," thought Laska. "Ah! 
 Here comes one there he goes : they will miss him." 
 
 At the same instant a sharp whistle pierced the ears of the 
 two huntsmen, and both, levelling their guns, shot at once : 
 the two reports, the two flashes, were simultaneous. The 
 snipe flapped his wings, drew up his delicate legs, and fell 
 into the thicket. 
 
 "Excellent! both together!" cried Levin, running with 
 Laska in search of the game. " Ach ! Da ! What was it that 
 hurt me so just now? Ah, yes! Kitty is ill," he remem- 
 bered. "What is to be done about it? It is very sad. 
 Ah! I have found it. Good dog," said he, taking the bird 
 from Laska's mouth, to put it into his overflowing game-bag. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 WHEN he reached home, Levin questioned his friend about 
 Kitty's illness and the plans of the Shcherbatskys. It was 
 not without pleasure, though it was with some conscientious 
 scruples, that he heard how she who had caused him so much
 
 ANNA EAEENINA. 177 
 
 suffering, was suffering herself. But wheu Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch spoke of the reason of Kitty's illness, and pronounced 
 the name of Vronsky, he interrupted him. 
 
 " I have no right to know these family matters, since I am 
 not concerned." 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled imperceptibly as he noticed 
 the sudden change in Levin, who, in an instant, had passed 
 from gayety to sadness. 
 
 " Have you succeeded in your transaction with Rabinin 
 about the wood? " he asked. 
 
 kt Yes : J have made the bargain. He gives me an excel- 
 lent price, thirty-eight thousand rubles, eight in advance, 
 and the rest in six years. I had been long about it : no one 
 offered me any more." 
 
 "You are selling your wood for a song," said Levin, 
 frowning. 
 
 "Why so?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, with a good-hu- 
 mored smile, having known that Levin would totally disap- 
 prove of it. 
 
 " Because your wood is worth at least five hundred rubles 
 a desyatin." 
 
 " Ach! You rural economists! " replied Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch. " What a tone of scorn to us, your urban brother ! 
 And yet, when it comes to business matters, we come out of 
 it better than you do. Believe me, I have made a careful 
 calculation. The wood is sold under very favorable condi- 
 tions ; and I fear only one thing, and that is lest the mer- 
 chant will regret it. It is wretched wood," he went on, 
 accenting the word wretched, so as to convince Levin of the 
 unfairness of his criticism, " and nothing but fire-wood. 
 There will not be more than thirty sazhens [forty-nine square 
 feet] to the desyatin, and he pays me at the rate of two hun- 
 dred rubles." 
 
 Levin smiled scornfully. 
 
 "I know these city people," he thought, "who, for the 
 once in ten years that they come into the country, and the 
 two or three words of the country dialect, plume themselves 
 on knowing the subject thoroughly. * Wretched! only thirty 
 sazhens ! ' he speaks without knowing a word of what he is 
 talking about." 
 
 4 'I do not allow myself to criticise what you put on paper 
 in your administrative functions," he said, " and, if I needed, 
 I would even ask your advice. But you, you imagine that
 
 178 ANNA KAIifiNINA. 
 
 you ^mlei'btand this document about the wood. It is bad. 
 Have you counted tue trees? " 
 
 " What? Count my trees?" asked Stepan Arkady evitch, 
 with a laugh, aud stiil trying to get his friend out of his ill- 
 humor. "Count the sand on the seashore, count the rays 
 of the planets ti.-ough a lofty genius might " 
 
 " Nn ! da ! J tell you the lofty genius of Rabinin succeeded. 
 Never does a merchant purchase without counting, unless, 
 indeed, the wood is given away for nothing, as you have done. 
 I know your wood ; I go hunting there every year ; it is worth 
 five hundred rubles a desyatin, cash down ; while he gives 
 you only two hundred, and on a long terra. That means you 
 give him thirty thousand. " 
 
 " Nu! enough of imaginary receipts," said Stepan Arkad- 
 yevitch plaintively. ^-Why didn't some one offer me this 
 price? " 
 
 " Because the merchants connive with each other. I have 
 had to do with all of them : I know them. They are not mer- 
 chants, but speculators. None of them is satisfied with a 
 profit less than ten or fifteen per cent. They wait till they 
 can buy for twenty kopeks what is worth a ruble." 
 
 " Nu! enough : you are blue." 
 
 "Not at all," saict Levin sadly, just as they were ap- 
 proaching the house. 
 
 A strong telyega, drawn by a well-fed horse, was standing 
 before the door; in the teJyega sat Rabinin's t&t prikashchik, 
 holding the reins ; and Rabinin himself was already in the 
 house, and met the two friends at the vestibule-door. The 
 merchant was a man of middle age, tall and thin, wearing a 
 mustache, but his prominent chin was well shaven. His eyes 
 were protuberant and muddy. He was clad in a dark blue 
 coat with buttons, set low behind ; and he wore high boots, 
 and over his boots huge goloshes. Wiping his face with his 
 handkerchief, and wrapping his overcoat closely around him, 
 though it was not necessary, he came out with a smile, to 
 meet the gentlemen as they entered. He gave one hand to 
 Stepan Arkady evitch, as though he wanted to grasp some- 
 thing. 
 
 "Ah! Here }-ou are," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, shak- 
 ing hands. " Veiy good." 
 
 " I should not have ventured to disobey your excellency's 
 orders, though the roads are very bad. Fact, I came all the 
 way oil foot, but I am here on time. A greeting to you,
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 179 
 
 Konstantin Dmitritch," said he, turning to Levin, intending 
 to seize his hand also ; but Levin affected not to notice the 
 motion, and calmly relieved his game-bag of the snipe. 
 
 'You have been enjoying a hunt? What kind of a bird 
 is that?" asked Rabinin, looking at the snipe disdainfully. 
 " What does it taste like?" And he tossed his head disap- 
 provingly, as though he felt doubtful if such a fowl were 
 edible. 
 
 " Won't you go into the library? " asked Levin in French. 
 " Go into the library, and discuss your business there." 
 
 "Just as you please," replied the merchant, in a tone of 
 disdainful superiority, wishing it to be understood, that, if 
 others could liud difficulties in transacting business, he was 
 not of the number. 
 
 In the library, Rabinin's eyes mechanically sought the 
 holy image ; but, when he caught sight of it, he did not make 
 the sign of the cross. He glanced at the bookcases and the 
 shelves lined with books, and manifested" the same air of 
 doubt and disdain that the snipe had caused. 
 
 " Well, did you bring the money? " asked Stepau Arkad- 
 yevitch. 
 
 " The money will come all in good time, but I came to 
 have a talk." 
 
 " What have we to talk about? However, sit down." 
 
 " May as well sit down," said Rabiuin, taking a chair, and 
 leaning back in it in the most uncomfortable attitude. " You 
 must give in a trifle, prince : it would be sinful not to do it. 
 As to the money, it is all ready, even to the last kopek : on 
 this side, there will be no delay." 
 
 Levin, who had been putting his gun away in the armory, 
 and was just leaving the room, stopped as he heard the last 
 words. 
 
 "You bought the wood at a miserable price," said he. 
 "He came to visit me too late: I would have engaged to 
 get much more for it." 
 
 Rabinin arose and contemplated Levin from head to foot 
 with a smile, but said nothing. 
 
 " Konstantin Levin is very sharp," said he at length, 
 turning to Stepan Arkadyevitch. " One never succeeds in 
 arranging a bargain finally with him. I have bought wheat, 
 and paid good prices." 
 
 "Why should I make you a present of my property? I 
 did not find it nor steal it."
 
 180 ANNA K 
 
 " Excuse mci at the present day it is absolutely impos- 
 sible to be a thief: every thing is done, in the present day, 
 honestly and openly. Who could steal, then? We have 
 spoken honestly and honorably. The wood is too dear : I 
 shall not make the two cuds meet. I beg you to yield a 
 little." 
 
 " But is your bargain made, or is it not? If it is made, 
 there is no need of haggling : if it is not, I am going to 
 buy the wood." 
 
 The smile disappeared from Rabinin's lips. A rapacious 
 and cruel expression, like that of a bird of prey, came in its 
 place. With his bony hands he tore open his overcoat, 
 bringing into sight his shirt, his vest with its copper buttons, 
 and his watch-chain ; and from his breast-pocket he pulled 
 out a huge well-worn wallet. 
 
 "Excuse me: the wood is mine." And making a rapid 
 sign of the cross, he extended his hand. "Take my 
 money, I take your wood. This is how Rabinin ends his 
 transactions finally and positively. He does not reckon his 
 kopeks," said he, waving his wallet eagerly. 
 
 " If I were in your place, I would not be in haste," said 
 Levin. 
 
 " But I have given my word," said Oblonsky, astonished. 
 
 Levin dashed out of the room, slamming the door. The 
 merchant watched him as he went, and lifted his head. 
 
 " Merely the effect of youth ; definitely, pure childishness. 
 Believe me, I buy this, so to speak, for the sake of glory, be- 
 cause I wish people to say, ' It's Rabinin, and not some one 
 else, who has bought Oblonsky's forest.' And God knows 
 how I shall come out of it ! Please sign " 
 
 An hour later the merchant went home in his telyega, well 
 wrapped up in his furs, with the agreement in his pocket. 
 
 " Och! these gentlemen!" he said to his prikashchik : 
 " always the same story." 
 
 "So it is," replied the prikashchik, giving up the reins, 
 so as to arrange the leather boot. "^1-s/ and your little pur- 
 chase, Mikhail Ignatitch?" 
 
 " Nu! nu!" 
 
 XVII. 
 
 STEPAN ARKADYEVITCH went down-stairs, his pockets filled 
 with " promises to pay." due in three months, which the 
 merchant had given him. The sale was concluded ; he had
 
 ANNA KAREN IN A. 181 
 
 money in his pocket ; sport had been good ; hence he was 
 perfectly happy and contented, and would gladly have dis- 
 pelled the sadness which possessed him : a day beginning so 
 well should end the same. 
 
 But Levin, however desirous he was of seeming amiable 
 and thoughtful toward his guest, could not drive away his 
 ill-humor : the species of intoxication which he felt in learn- 
 ing that Kitty was not married, was of short duration. Not 
 married, and ill! Ill, perhaps, from love of him who had 
 jilted her. It was almost like a personal insult. Had not 
 Vronsky, in a certain sense, gained the right to despise him, 
 since he had put to shame her who had rejected him? He 
 was therefore his enemy. He could not reason away this 
 impression, but he felt wounded, hurt, and discontented at 
 every thing, and especially at this ridiculous sale of the forest, 
 which had taken place under his roof, without his being able 
 to keep Oblonsky from being cheated. 
 
 " Nil! is it finished? " he asked, as he met Stepan Arkad- 
 yevitch. " Will you have some supper? " 
 
 "Yes: I won't refuse. What an appetite I feel in the 
 country ! It's wonderful ! why didn't you offer a bite to 
 Kabinin?" 
 
 "Ah! the Devil take him! " 
 
 " Do you know, your behavior to him seemed astonishing 
 to me? You didn't even offer him }'our hand ! Why didn't 
 you offer him your hand? " 
 
 " Because I don't shake hands with my lackey, and my 
 lackey is worth a hundred of him." 
 
 " What a rvtroyrad you are! And how about the fusion 
 of classes? " 
 
 " Let those who like it enjoy it ! It is disgusting." 
 
 " You, I see, are a retrograd." 
 
 "To tell the truth, I never asked myself who I was. I 
 am Koustantin, nothing more." 
 
 ' And Konstantin Levin in a very bad humor," said 
 Oblonsky, smiling. 
 
 " Da ! I am in bad humor, and do you know why? Because 
 of this idiotic bargain ; excuse the express " 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch put on an air of injured innocence, 
 and replied with an amusing grimace. 
 
 "Nu! that'll do!" he said. "After any one has sold 
 any thing, they come saying, ' You might have sold this at a 
 higher price ; ' but no one thinks of offering this fine price
 
 182 ANNA 
 
 before the sale. No : I see you have a grudge against this 
 unfortunate Rabinin." 
 
 " Maybe I have. And shall I tell you why? You will call 
 me retrograd or some worse name, but I cannot help feeling 
 bad to see the nobility [dvorianstvo'] the nobility, to which 
 I am happy to say I belong, and belong in spite of your fu- 
 sion of classes, always getting poorer and poorer. If this 
 growing poverty was caused by spendthrift ways, by too high 
 living, I wouldn't say any thing. To live like lords is proper 
 for the nobles : the nobles [dvoriane'] only can do this. Now 
 the muzhiks are buying up our lands, but I am not concerned : 
 the proprietor [barin~\ does nothing, the muzhik is industri- 
 ous, and it is just that the workingman should take the place 
 of the lazy. So it ought to be. And I am glad for the 
 muzhik. But what vexes me, and stirs my soul, is to see 
 the proprietor robbed by I don't know how to express it 
 by his own innocence. Here is a Polish tenant, who has 
 bought, at half price, a superb estate of a baruina [titled lady] 
 who lives at -Nice. Yonder is a merchant who has got a 
 farm for a tenth of its value. And this very day you have 
 given this rascal a present of thirty thousand rubles." 
 
 tk But what could I do? Count my trees one by one?" 
 
 "Certainly: if you have not counted them, be sure that 
 the merchant has counted them for you ; and his children 
 will have the means whereb}' to live and get an education, 
 whereas yours perhaps will not." 
 
 "Nu! In my opinion, it is ridiculous to go into such 
 minute calculations. We have our ways of doing things, 
 and they have theirs ; and let them get the good of it. Nu ! 
 Moreover, it is done, and that's the last of it. And here 
 is my favorite omelette coning in ; and then Agafya Mik- 
 hailovna will certainly give us a glass of her delicious travni- 
 chok" [herb brandy]. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch sat down at the table in excellent 
 spirits, and rallied Agafya Mikhailovna, and assured her 
 that he had not eaten such a dinner and such a supper for 
 an age. 
 
 " You can give fine speeches, at least. But Konstnntin 
 Dmitritch, if he found only a crust of bread, would eat it 
 and go away." 
 
 Levin, in spite of his efforts to rule his melancholy and 
 gloomy mood, still felt out of sorts. There was a question 
 which he could not make up his mind to put, finding neither
 
 ANNA KAE&NINA. 183 
 
 the opportunity to ask it, nor a suitable form in which to 
 couch it. Stepan Arkadyevitch had gone to his room, and, 
 after a bath, had gone to bed clad in a beautiful frilled 
 nightgown. Levin still dallied in the room, talking about a 
 hundred trifles, but not having the courage to ask what he 
 had at heart. 
 
 " How well this is arranged ! " said he, taking from its 
 wrapper a piece of perfumed soap, an attention on the 
 part of Agafya Mikhailovua which had not attracted Ob- 
 louskv's attention. " Just look : isn't it truly a work of 
 
 art?" 
 
 " Yes : every thing is getting perfect nowadays," said 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch, with a beatific yawn. " The theatres, 
 for example, and a a a" yawning again "these 
 amusing a a a electric lights a a " 
 
 "Yes, the electric lights," repeated Levin. "And that 
 Vronsky : where is he now ? " he suddenly asked, putting 
 down the soap. 
 
 " Vronsky? " said Stepan Arkadyevitch, ceasing to yawn. 
 " He is at Petersburg. He went away shortly after you did, 
 and did not return to Moscow. Do you know, Kostia," he 
 continued, leaning his elbow on a little table placed near the 
 head of the bed, and leaning his head on his hand, while two 
 good-natured and rather sleepy eyes looked out like twin 
 stars, "I will tell you the truth. You are in part to blame 
 for all-this story : you were afraid of a rival. And I will re- 
 mind you of what I said : I don't know which of you had the 
 best chances. Why didn't you go ahead? I told you then 
 that " and he yawned again, trying not to open his mouth. 
 
 "Does he, or doesn't he, know of the step I took?" 
 thought Levin, looking at him. "Da! there is something 
 subtle, something diplomatic, in his face ;" and, feeling that 
 he was blushing, he said nothing, but looked at Oblonsky. 
 
 " If on her part there was any feeling for him, it was 
 merely a slight drawing, a fascination, such as a lofty aris- 
 tocracy and a high position is likely to have on a young girl, 
 and particularly on her mother." 
 
 Levin frowned. The pain of his rejection came back to 
 him like a recent wound in his heart. Fortunately, he was 
 at home ; and at home the shadows sustain one. 
 
 " Wait ! wait : " he interrupted : " your aristocracy ! But 
 I want to tell you what this aristocracy of Vronsky's means, 
 or any other kind that could look down upon me. You con-
 
 184 ANNA KABfiNINA. 
 
 sider him an aristocrat. I don't. A man whose father 
 sprang from the dust, by means of intrigue, whose mother 
 has Oh, no ! Aristocrats, in my eyes, are men who can 
 show in the past three or four generations of excellent fam- 
 ilies, belonging to tlie most cultivated classes, talents and 
 intellect are another matter, who never abased themselves 
 before anybody, and were self-reliant, like my father and 
 mother. And I know many families of the same kind. It 
 seems incredible to you that I can count my trees ; but you, 
 you give thirty thousand rubles to Rabinin : but you receive 
 a salary, and other things ; and that I never expect to receive, 
 and therefore I appreciate what my father left me, and what 
 my labor gives me ; and therefore I say it is we who are 
 aristocrats, and not those who live at the expense of the 
 powers of this world, and who can be bought for twenty 
 kopeks." 
 
 " Da! whom are you so angry with? I agree with you," 
 replied Oblonsky gayly, and amused at his friend's tirade, 
 even though he knew that it was directed against himself. 
 " You are not fair to Vrousky, but this has nothing to do with 
 him. I will tell }'ou frankly : if I were in your place, I would 
 start for Moscow, and " 
 
 tw No ! I don't know if you are aware of what passed, 
 but it's over for me. I will tell you. I proposed to Kate- 
 rina Aleksandrovna, and was rejected ; so that now the mem- 
 ory of it is painful and humiliating." 
 
 " Why so? What nonsense ! " 
 
 " But let us not speak of it. Forgive me if I have been 
 rude to you," said Levin. " Now all is explained. You 
 will not be. angry with me, Stiva?" said he, resuming his 
 usual manner. " I beg of you, don't lay up any thing against 
 me." And he took his hand. 
 
 " Da I I will not think any thing more about it. I am very 
 glad, though, that we have spoken frankly to one another. 
 And, do you know, sport will be capital to-morrow? Sup- 
 pose we try it again. I would not even sleep, but go straight 
 to the station." 
 
 "Excellent!" 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 VRONSKY, though absorbed by his passion, changed in no 
 way the outward course of his life. He kept up all his social 
 and military relations. His regiment filled an important part
 
 ANNA EARtiNINA. 185 
 
 in his life, in the first place because he loved it, and, still 
 more, because he was extremely popular. He was not only 
 admired, he was respected ; and it was a matter to be proud 
 of, that a man of his rank and intellectual capacity was seen 
 to place the interests of his regiment and his comrades 
 above the vainglorious or egotistical success which were his 
 right. Vronsky kept account of the feeling which he in- 
 spired, and felt called upon, in a certain degree, to sustain 
 his character. 
 
 Of course he spoke to no one of his passion. Never did 
 an imprudent word escape him, even when he joined his com- 
 rades in some drinking-bout, he drank, however, very 
 moderately, and he was wise enough to keep his mouth 
 shut in the presence of those gossiping meddlers who made 
 the least allusion to the affairs of his heart. His passion, 
 however, was a matter of notoriety throughout the city ; and 
 the young men envied him on account of the very thing that 
 was the greatest drawback to his love, Karenin's high sta- 
 tion, which made the matter more conspicuous. 
 
 The majority of young ladies, jealous of Anna, whom they 
 were weary of hearing always called the just, were not sorry 
 to have their predictions verified, and were waiting only for 
 the sanction of public opinion, to overwhelm her with their 
 scorn : they had stored away, ready for use, the mud which 
 should be thrown at her when the time came. People of ex- 
 perience, and those of high rank, were displeased at the 
 prospect of a disgraceful scandal in society. 
 
 Vronsky's mother at first felt a sort of pleasure at her 
 son's infatuation ; in her opinion, nothing was better for 
 forming a young man than to fall in love with some great 
 society lady ; and, moreover, she was not sorry to find that 
 this Madame Kareniua, who seemed so entirely devoted to 
 her boy, was, after all, only like any other handsome and 
 elegant woman. But this way of looking at it changed when 
 she learned that her son had refused an important promotion, 
 so that he might not be obliged to leave his regiment, and 
 this Madame Kare"nin's vicinity. Moreover, instead of being 
 a brilliant and fashionable flirtation, such as she approved, 
 it was turning out, as she learned, to be a tragedy, after the 
 style of Werther, and she was afraid lest her son should 
 allow himself to commit some folly. Since his unheralded 
 departure from Moscow she had not seen him, but she sent 
 word to him, through his brother, that she desired him to
 
 186 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 come to her. His older brother was even more dissatisfied, 
 not because he felt anxious to know whether this love-affair 
 was to be deep or ephemeral, calm or passionate, innocent 
 or guilty, he himself, though a married man and the 
 father of a family, had shown by his own conduct that he 
 had no right to be severe, but because he knew that this 
 love-affair was displeasing in quarters where it was better to 
 be on good terms ; and therefore he blamed his brother. 
 
 Vronsky, besides his society relations and his military 
 duties, hud yet another absorbing passion, horses. The 
 officers' races were to take place this summer. He became a 
 subscriber, and purchased a pure-blood English trotter : in 
 spite of his love-affair, he was extremely interested in *the 
 results of the races. These two passions easily existed side 
 by side, and he needed some outside interest to offset the 
 violent emotions which stirred him in his relations with 
 Anna. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 ON the day of the Krasno-Selo races, Vronsky came earlier 
 than usual to eat a beefsteak in the officers' great common 
 dining-hall. He was not at all constrained to limit himself, 
 since his weight satisfied the forty pud conditions of the 
 service ; but he did not want to get fat, and so he refrained 
 from sugar and farinaceous foods. He sat down at the 
 table. His coat was unbuttoned, and displayed his white 
 vest, and he opened a French novel : with both elbows rest- 
 ing on the table he seemed absorbed in his book, but he 
 took this attitude so as not to talk with the officers as they 
 went and came, but to think. 
 
 He was thinking about the meeting with Anna, which was 
 to take place after the races. He had not seen her for three 
 days ; and he was wondering if she would be able to keep 
 her promise, as her husband had just returned to Petersburg 
 from a journey abroad, and he was wondering how he could 
 find out. They had met for the last time at his cousin 
 Betsy's villa. For he went to the Karenins' house as little 
 as possible, and now he was asking himself if he would best 
 go there. 
 
 " I will simply say that I am charged "by Betsy to find 
 whether she expects to attend the races, yes, certainly, 
 I will go," he said, raising his head from his book. And his
 
 ANNA KARfiNlNA. 187 
 
 face shone with the joy caused by his imagination of the 
 forthcoming interview. 
 
 " Send word that I wish my troika harnessed," said he to 
 the waiter who was bringing his beefsteak on a silver platter. 
 He took his plate, and began his meal. 
 
 In the adjoining billiard-room the clicking of balls was 
 heard, and two voices talking and laughing. Then two 
 officers appeared in the door : one of them was a young man 
 with delicate, refined features, who had just graduated from 
 the Corps of Pages, and joined the regiment ; the other was 
 old and fat, with little, moist ej'es, and wore a bracelet on 
 his wrist. 
 
 Vronsky glanced at them and frowned, and went on eating 
 and reading at the same time, as though he had not seen 
 them. 
 
 " Getting ready for work, are you? " asked the fat officer, 
 sitting down near him. 
 
 " You see I am," replied Vronsky, wiping his lips, and 
 frowning again, without looking up. 
 
 "But aren't you afraid of getting fat?" continued the 
 elderly officer, pulling up a chair for his junior. 
 
 "What!" cried Vrousky, showing his teeth to express 
 his disgust and aversion. 
 
 " Aren't you afraid of getting fat? " 
 
 "Waiter, sherry!" cried Vronsky, without deigning to 
 reply ; and he changed his book to the other side of his 
 plate, and continued to read. 
 
 The fat officer took the wine-list, and passed it over to the 
 young officer. 
 
 " See what we'll have to drink." 
 
 "Rhine wine, if you please," replied the latter, trying to 
 twist his imaginary mustache, and looking timidly at Vrousky 
 out of the corner of his eye. 
 
 When he saw that Vronsky did not move, the young officer 
 got up, and said, " Come into the billiard-room." 
 
 The fat officer also arose, and the two went out of the 
 door. At the same time a cavalry captain came in, a tall, 
 handsome young man, named Yashvin. He gave the two 
 officers a slight, disdainful salute, and went towards Vronsky. 
 
 "Ah! here he is," he cried, Ia3'ing his heavy hand on 
 Vronsk3''s shoulder. Vronsky turned round angrily, but in 
 an instant a pleasant, friendly expression came into his face. 
 
 "Well, Alosha!" said the cavalry captain, in his big
 
 188 ANNA KAitl&NlNA. 
 
 baritone. " Have some more dinner, and drink a glass with 
 me." 
 
 " No: I don't want any dinner." 
 
 "Those are inseparables," said Yashvin, looking with an 
 expression of disdain at the two officers as they disap- 
 peared. Then he sat down, doubling up under the chair, 
 which was too short for him, his long legs dressed in tight, 
 uniform trousers. " Why weren't you at the theatre last 
 evening? Numerova was truly not bad at all. Where were 
 you?" 
 
 " I staid too late at the Tverskois'," said Vronsky. 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 Yashvin was Vronsky's best friend in the regiment, though 
 he was not only a gambler, but a debauchee. It could not be 
 said of him that he entirely lacked principles. He had prin- 
 ciples, but the}' were immoral ones. Vronsky liked him, and 
 admired his exceptional physical vigor, which allowed him to 
 drink like a hogshead and not feel it, and to do absolutely 
 without sleep if it were necessary. He had no less admira- 
 tion for his great social ability, which made him a power, not 
 only with his superiors, but with his comrades. At the Eng- 
 lish Club, he had the notoriety of being the most daring of 
 gamblers, because, while never ceasing to drink, he risked 
 large sums with imperturbable presence of mind. 
 
 If Vronsky felt friendship and some consideration for 
 Yashvin, it was because he knew that his fortune or his social 
 position counted for nothing in his friendship that the latter 
 showed him. He was liked on his own account. Moreover, 
 Yashvin was the only man to whom Vronsk}' would have 
 been willing to speak of his love ; because he felt, that, in 
 spite of his affected scorn for all kinds of sentiment, he alone 
 could appreciate the serious passion which now absorbed his 
 whole life. Besides, he knew that he was incapable of in- 
 dulging in tittle-tattle and scandal. Thus, taken all in all, 
 his presence was always agreeable to him. 
 
 Vronsky had not yet spoken about his love, but he knew 
 that Yashvin knew it looked upon it in its true light ; and 
 it was a pleasure to read this in his eyes. 
 
 "Ah, da!" said the cavalry captain, when he heard the 
 name of the Tverskois ; and he bit his mustache, and looked 
 at him with his brilliant black eyes. 
 
 "Nut and what did you do last evening? Did you gain?" 
 asked Vronsky.
 
 ANNA K Alt NINA. 189 
 
 "Eight thousand rubles, but three thousand possibly are 
 no good." 
 
 "Nu! Then you can lose on me," said Vronsky, laugh- 
 ing : his comrade had laid a large wager on him. 
 
 "But I shall not lose. Makhotiu is the only one to be 
 afraid of." 
 
 And the conversation went off in regard to the races, which 
 was the only subject which was of any moment now. 
 
 "Come on: J am through," said Vronsky, getting up. 
 Yashvin also arose, and stretched his long legs. 
 
 " I can't dine so early, but I will take something to drink. 
 I will follow you. Here, twne!" he cried, in his heavy 
 voice, which made the windows rattle, and was the wonder 
 of the regiment. "No, no matter!" he cried again: "if 
 you are going home, I'll join you." 
 
 XX. 
 
 VRONSKY was lodging in a great Finnish izba [hut] , very 
 neatly arranged, and divided in two by a partition. Petritsky 
 was his chum, not only in Petersburg, but here also in camp. 
 He was asleep when Vronsky and Yashvin entered. 
 
 " Get up ! you've slept long enough," said Yashvin, going 
 behind the partition, and shaking the sleeper's shoulder, as 
 he lay with his nose buried in the pillow. 
 
 Petritsk}- got upon his knees, and looked all about him. 
 
 "Your brother has been here," said he to Vronsky. "He 
 woke me up, confound him ! and he said that he would come 
 again." 
 
 Then he threw himself back on the pillow again, and 
 pulled up the bedclothes. 
 
 " Let up, Yashvin," he cried angrily, as his comrade 
 amused himself by twitching off his quilt. Then turning 
 towards him, and opening his eyes, he said, " You would do 
 much better to tell me what I ought to drink to take this bad 
 taste out of my mouth." 
 
 ' ' Vodka is better than any thing, ' ' said Yashvin. ' ' Teresh- 
 chenko ! Bring the barin some vodka and cucumbers," he 
 ordered of the servant, seeming to delight in the thunder of 
 his voice. 
 
 " You advise vodka? ha!" demanded Petritsky, rubbing 
 his eyes, with a grimace. "Will you take some too? If
 
 190 ANNA 
 
 you'll join, all right! Vronsky, will you have a drink?" 
 And leaving his bed, he came out wrapped up in a striped 
 quilt, waving his arms in the air, and singing in French, 
 " ' There was a king in Thu-u-le.' ' 
 
 " Vronsky, will you have a drink? " 
 
 " Go away," replied the latter, who was putting on an 
 overcoat brought him by his valet. 
 
 "Where are you going?" asked Yashvin, seeing a car- 
 riage drawn by three horses. ' k Here's the troika." 
 
 '' To the stables, then to Briansky's to see about some 
 horses," replied Vronsky. 
 
 He had, indeed, promised to bring some money to Brian- 
 sky, who lived about six versts from Peterhof ; but his friends 
 immediately knew that he was going in another direction. 
 
 Petritsky winked, and raised his eyebrows as though he 
 would say, u We know who this Briansky means." 
 
 " See here, don't be late," said Yashvin; and changing 
 the subject, " And my roan, does she suit you? " he asked, 
 referring to the middle horse of the team which he had sold. 
 
 Just as Vronsky left the room, Petritsky called out to him, 
 " Hold on ! your brother left a note and a letter. Hold on ! 
 where did I put them? " 
 
 Vronsky waited impatiently. 
 
 " Nn ! Where are they? " 
 
 " Where are they indeed? That's the question," declaimed 
 Petritsky, putting his forefinger above his nose. 
 
 "Speak quick! no nonsense!" said Vronsky good- 
 naturedly. 
 
 "I have not had any fire in the fireplace: where can I 
 have put them ? ' ' 
 
 " Nu! that's enough talk ! where's the note? " 
 
 " I swear I have forgotten : perhaps I dreamed about it. 
 Wait, wait ! don't get angry. If 3-011 had drunk four bottles, 
 as I did yesterda}-, you wouldn't even know where you went 
 to bed. Hold on, I'll think in a minute." 
 
 Petritsky went behind his screen again, and got into bed. 
 
 " Hold on ! I was lying here. He stood there. Da- 
 da-da-da! Ah ! Here it is ! " And he pulled the letter out 
 from under the mattress, where he had put it. 
 
 Vronsky took the letter and his brother's note. It was 
 exactly as he expected. His mother reproached him 
 because he had not been to see her, and his brother said he 
 had something to speak to him about. '' What concern is it
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 191 
 
 of theirs?" he murmured ; and, crumpling up the notes, he 
 thrust them between his coat-buttons, intending to read them 
 more carefully on the way. 
 
 Just as he left the izba, he met two officers, each of whom 
 belonged to different regiments. Vronsky's quarters were 
 always the headquarters of all the officers. 
 
 " Whither away? " 
 
 "Must to Peterhof." 
 
 " Has your horse come from Tsarskoi'? " 
 
 " Yes, but I have not seen her yet." 
 
 " They say Makhotin's ' Gladiator ' is lame." 
 
 " Rubbish ! But how could you trot in such mud? " 
 
 " Here are m}- saviours," cried Petritsky, as he saw the 
 new-comers. The denshchik was standing before him with 
 vodka and salted cucumbers on a platter. " Yashviu, here, 
 ordered me to drink, so as to be refreshed." 
 
 " Nu! You were too much for us last night," said one of 
 the officers. " We did not sleep all night." 
 
 " I must tell you how it ended," began Petritsky. " Vol- 
 kof climbed up on the roof, and told us that he was blue. I 
 sung out, ' Give us some music, a funeral march.' And he 
 went to sleep on the roof to the music of the funeral march." 
 
 " Drink, drink your vodka by all means, and then take 
 seltzer and a lot of lemon," said Yashvin, encouraging Pe- 
 tritsky as a mother encourages her child to swallow some 
 medicine. 
 
 " Now, this is sense. Hold on, Vronsky, and have a drink 
 with us! " 
 
 " No. Good-by, gentlemen. I am not drinking to-day." 
 
 "Vronsky," cried someone, after he had gone into the 
 vestibule. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "You'd better cut off your hair: it's getting very long, 
 especially on the bald spot." 
 
 Vronsky, in fact, was beginning to get a little bald. He 
 laughed gayly, and, pulling his cap over his forehead where 
 the hair was thin, he went out and got into his carriage. 
 
 " To the stables," he said. 
 
 He started to take his letters for a second reading, but on 
 second thought deferred them so that he might think of 
 nothing else but his horse.
 
 192 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 A TEMPORARY stable, made out of planks, had been built 
 near the race-course ; and hither Vronsky had to go to see 
 his horse. Only the trainer had as yet mounted her ; and 
 Vronsky, who had not seen her, did not know in what con- 
 dition he should find her. He was just getting out of his 
 carriage when his konyukh [groom], a young fellow, saw 
 him from a distance, and immediately called the trainer. 
 He was an Englishman with withered face and tufted chin, 
 and dressed in short jacket and top-boots. He came out 
 towards Vronsky in the mincing step peculiar to jockeys, and 
 with elbows sticking out. 
 
 " Nu! how is Frou Frou? " said Vronsky in English. 
 
 " All right, sir," said the Englishman, in a voice that came 
 out of the bottom of his throat. " Better not go in, sir," he 
 added, taking off his hat. "I have put a muzzle on her, 
 and that excites her. If any one comes near, it makes her 
 nervous." 
 
 " No matter : I want to see her." 
 
 "Come on, then," replied the Englishman testily; and 
 without ever opening his mouth, and with his dandified 
 step, he led the way to the stable. An active and alert 
 stable-boy in a clean jacket, with whip in hand, was ready 
 to receive them. Five horses were in the stable, each in its 
 own stall. Vronsky knew that Makhotin's Gladiator, 
 Vronsky's most redoubtable rival, a chestnut horse of five 
 vershoks, was there, and he was more curious to see Gladiator 
 than to see his own racer ; but according to the rules of the 
 races, he could not have him brought out, or even ask questions 
 about him. As he passed along the walk, the groom opened 
 the door of the second stall, and Vronsky saw a powerful 
 chestnut with white feet. It was Gladiator : he recognized 
 him, but he instantly turned towards Frou Frou, as though 
 he had seen an open letter which was not addressed to him. 
 
 "That horse belongs to Ma k mak," said the Eng- 
 lishman, struggling with the name, and pointing to Gladia- 
 tor's stall with fingers on which the nails were black with 
 dirt. 
 
 "Makhotin's? Yes: he is my only dangerous rival." 
 
 " If you would mount him, I would bet on you," said the 
 Englishman.
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 193 
 
 " Frou Frou is more nervous; this one stronger," said 
 Vronsky, smiling at the jockey's praise. 
 
 " In hurdle-races, all depends on the mount, and on 
 pluck." 
 
 Pluck, that is, audacity and coolness, Vronsky knew 
 that he had in abundance ; and, what is more, he was firmly 
 convinced that no one could have more than he. 
 
 " You are sure that a good sweating was not necessary? " 
 
 " Not at all," replied the Englishman. " Don't speak so 
 loud, I beg of you: the colt is restive," he added, jerking 
 his head towards the stall where the horse was heard stamp- 
 ing on the straw. 
 
 He opened the door, and Vronsky entered a box-stall 
 feebly lighted by a little window. A brown bay horse, 
 muzzled, was nervously prancing up and down on the fresh 
 straw. 
 
 The somewhat imperfect shape of his favorite horse was 
 instantly manifest to Vronsky 's eyes. Frou Frou was of 
 medium size, with slender bones ; her breast was narrow, 
 though the breast-bone was prominent ; the crupper was 
 rather tapering ; and the legs, particularly the hind-legs, 
 considerably bowed. The muscles of the legs were not large, 
 but the flanks were very enormous on account of the training 
 she had had, and the smallness of her belly. The bones of 
 the legs below the knee seemed not thicker than a finger, seen 
 from the front : they were extraordinarily large when seen 
 sidewise. The whole steed seemed squeezed in and lengthened 
 out. But she had one merit that outweighed all her faults : 
 she had good blood, was a thoroughbred, as the English 
 say. Her muscles stood out under a network of veins, cov- 
 ered with a skin as smooth and soft as satin : her slender 
 head, with prominent eyes, bright and animated ; her delicate, 
 mobile nostrils, which seemed suffused with blood, all the 
 points of this noble animal had something energetic, decided, 
 and keen. It was one of those creatures such as never fail 
 to fulfil their promise owing to defect in mechanical construc- 
 tion. Vronsky felt that she understood him while he was 
 looking at her. When he came in, she was taking long 
 breaths, turning her head round, and showing the whites of 
 her bloodshot eyes, and trying to shake off her muzzle, and 
 dancing on her feet as though moved by springs. 
 
 " You see how excited she is," said the Englishman. 
 
 "Whoa, my loveliest, whoa ! " said Vronsky, approaching
 
 194 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 to calm her ; but the nearer he came, the more nervous she 
 grew ; and only when he had caressed her head, did she 
 become tranquil. He could feel her muscles strain and 
 tremble under her delicate, smooth skin. Vronsky patted 
 her beautiful neck, and put into place a bit of her mane 
 that she had tossed on the other side ; and then he put his 
 face close to her nostrils, which swelled and dilated like 
 the wings of a bat. She snorted, pricked up her ears, and 
 stretched out her long black lips to seize his sleeve ; but 
 when she found herself prevented by her muzzle, she began 
 to caper again. 
 
 "Quiet, my beauty, quiet," said Vronsky, calming her; 
 and he left the stable with the re-assuring conviction that his 
 horse was in perfect condition. 
 
 But the nervousness of the steed had taken possession of 
 her master. Vronsky felt the blood rush to his heart, and, 
 like the horse, he wanted violent action : he felt like biting. 
 It was a sensation at once strange and joyful. 
 
 "Well, I count on you," said he to the Englishman. " Be 
 on the grounds at half-past six." 
 
 "All shall be ready. But where are you going, my lord?" 
 asked the Englishman, using the title of "lord," which he 
 never permitted. 
 
 Astonished at this audacity, Vronsky raised his head, and 
 looked at him as he well understood how to do, not into his 
 eyes, but on his forehead. He instantly saw that the Eng- 
 lishman had spoken to him, not as to his master, but as to 
 a jockey ; and he replied, 
 
 " I have got to see Briansky, and I shall be at home in an 
 hour." 
 
 " How many times have I been asked that question to- 
 day ! " he said to himself ; and he blushed, which was a rare 
 occurrence with him. The Englishman looked at him closely. 
 He also seemed to know where his master was going. 
 
 "The main thing is to keep calm before the race. Don't 
 do any thing rash ; don't get bothered." 
 
 " All right," replied Vronsky ; and, jumping into his car- 
 riage, he drove back to Peterhof. 
 
 He had gone but a short distance before the sky, which 
 had been overcast since morning, grew thicker, and it began 
 to rain. 
 
 "Too bad!" thought Vronsky, raising the hood of his 
 carriage. " It has been muddy : now it will be a marsh."
 
 ANNA EARfiNINA. 195 
 
 Now that he was alone again, he bethought him of his 
 mother's letter and his brother's note, and began to read 
 them over. It was always the old story : both his mother 
 and his brother took it upon them to meddle with his love- 
 affairs. He was indignant and even angry, a most unusual 
 state for him. 
 
 " How does this concern them? Why do they feel called 
 upon to meddle with me, to bother me ? Because there is 
 something about this that they don't understand. If it were 
 a vulgar intrigue, they would leave me in peace ; but they 
 imagine that it isn't a mere nothing, that this woman is not 
 a mere toy, that she is dearer to me than life : that would 
 seem incredible and vexatious to them. Whatever be our 
 fate, we ourselves have made it, and we shall not regret it," 
 he said to himself, including Anna in the word "we." "But 
 no, they want to teach us the meaning of life, they, who 
 have no idea of what happiness is. The}- don't know that, 
 were it not for this love, there would be for me neither joy 
 nor grief in this world: life itself would not exist." 
 
 In realit}-, what exasperated him most against his relatives 
 was the fact that his conscience told him that they were right. 
 His love for Anna was not a superficial impulse, destined, 
 like so many social attachments, to disappear, and leave no 
 trace beyond sweet or painful memories. He felt keenly all 
 the torture of their situation, all its difficulties in%the eyes 
 of the world, from which they had to conceal it by means of 
 ingenious subterfuges, deceptions, and lies ; and, while their 
 mutual passion was so violent and absorbing that they knew 
 of nothing else, yet they had to be always inventing a thou- 
 sand stratagems to keep it from others. 
 
 This constant need of dissimulation and deceit came to 
 him urgently. Nothing was more contrary to his nature, 
 and he recalled the feeling of shame which he had often sur- 
 prised in Anna, when she also was driven to tell a lie. 
 
 Since this affair with her, he sometimes experienced a 
 strange sensation of disgust and repulsion, which he could 
 not define, nor could he tell for whom he felt it, for Aleksi 
 Aleksandrovitch or himself, for society or for the entire world. 
 As far as possible he banished such thoughts. 
 
 " Yes, heretofore she has been unhappy, but proud and 
 calm : now she cannot be so any longer, however she may 
 seem to try to appear so." 
 
 And for the first time the thought of cutting short this life
 
 196 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 of dissimulation appeared to him clear and tangible : the 
 sooner, the better. 
 
 " We must leave every thing, she and I, and together, with 
 our love, we must go and bury ourselves somewhere," he 
 said to himself. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 THE shower was of short duration ; and when Vronsky 
 reached Peterhof , his shaft-horse at full trot, and the other 
 two galloping along in the mud, the sun was already out 
 again, and was shining on the roofs of the villas and the drip- 
 ping foliage of the old lindens in the neighboring gardens, 
 whose shadows fell across the street. The water was run- 
 ning from the roofs, and the tree-tops seemed gayly to shake 
 off the raindrops. He no longer thought of the harm that 
 the shower might do the race-course : but he was full of 
 joy as he remembered, that, thanks to the rain, she would be 
 alone ; for he knew that Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, who had 
 just got back from a visit to the baths, would not leave Pe- 
 tersburg for the country. 
 
 Vronsky stopped his horses at some little distance from the 
 house, and, in order to attract as little attention as possible, 
 he entered the court on foot, instead of ringing the bell at 
 the front^ entrance. 
 
 " Has the barin come? " he demanded of a gardener. 
 
 " Not yet ; but the baruina is at home. If you ring, they 
 will open the door." 
 
 " No : I will go in through the garden." 
 
 Knowing that she was alone, he wanted to surprise her ; 
 he had not sent word that he was coming, and on account of 
 the races she would not be looking for him. Therefore he 
 walked cautiously along the sandy paths, bordered with 
 flowers, lifting up his sabre so that it should make no noise. 
 In this way he reached the terrace which led from the house 
 down to the garden. The anxieties which had possessed 
 him on the way, the difficulties of their situation, were now 
 forgotten : he thought only of the pleasure of shortly seeing 
 her, her in reality, in person, and not in imagination only. 
 He was mounting the garden-steps as gently as possible, 
 when he suddenly remembered the most painful feature of 
 his relations with her, a feature that he was always forget- 
 ting, her son, a lad with a most inquisitive face.
 
 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 197 
 
 This child was the principal obstacle in the way of their in- 
 terviews. In his presence Anna never allowed a word that the 
 whole world might not hear, never a word that the child him- 
 self could not comprehend. There was no need of an agree- 
 ment on that score. Both of them would have been ashamed 
 to speak a single word to deceive the little lad : before him 
 they talked as though they were mere acquaintances. But 
 in spite of these precautions Vronsky often felt the lad's 
 scrutinizing and rather suspicious eyes fixed upon him. 
 Sometimes he seemed timid, again affectionate, but never 
 the same. The child seemed instinctively to feel, that, be- 
 tween this man and his mother there was some strange bond 
 of union, which was beyond his comprehension. 
 
 The boy, indeed, made futile efforts to understand how he 
 ought to behave before this gentleman : he had seen, with 
 that quick intuition peculiar to childhood, that his father, his 
 governess, and his nurse looked with the utmost disfavor on 
 the man whom his mother treated as her best friend. ' 
 
 " What does this mean? Who is he? Must I love him? 
 and is it my fault, and am I a naughty or stupid child, if I 
 don't understand it at all?" thought the little fellow. 
 Hence came his timidity, his questioning and distrustful 
 manner, and this changeableness, which were so unpleasant 
 to Vronsky. Besides, when the child was present, he always 
 felt that apparently unreasonable repulsion, which for some 
 time had pursued him. 
 
 The presence of the child was to Anna and Vronsky like 
 the compass to a ship-captain, which shows that he is drift- 
 ing to leeward without the possibility of stopping on his 
 course : every instant carries him farther and farther in the 
 wrong direction, and the recognition of the movement that 
 carries him from the right course is the recognition of the 
 ruin that impends. 
 
 The boy this day was not at home. Anna was entirely 
 alone, and sitting on the terrace, waiting for her son's re- 
 turn, as the rain had overtaken him while out on his walk. 
 She had sent a man and a maid to find him. Dressed in a 
 white embroidered robe, she was sitting at one corner of the 
 terrace, concealed by plants and flowers, and she did not 
 hear Vronsky's step. With bent head, she was pressing her 
 heated brow against a cool watering-pot, standing on the 
 balustrade. With her beautiful hands laden with rings, 
 which he knew so well, she had pulled the watering-pot to-
 
 198 ANNA KAKfiNINA. 
 
 wards her. Her lovely figure, her graceful head, with its 
 dark, curling locks, her neck, her hands, all struck Vronsky 
 every time that he saw her, and always caused a new feeling 
 of surprise. He stopped and looked at her in ecstasy. 
 She instinctively felt his approach, and he had hardly taken 
 a step when she pushed away the watering-pot and turned to 
 him her glowing face. 
 
 " What is the matter? Are you ill ? " said he, in French, 
 as he advanced towards her. He felt a desire to run towards 
 her, but in the fear of being seen, he looked around him and 
 towards the door of the balcony with a feeling that filled 
 him with shame, as though any thing should make him fear 
 or be untruthful. 
 
 " No : I am not well," said Anna, rising, and pressing the 
 hand that he offered her. " I did not expect 3~ou." 
 
 " Bozhe mo'i ! how cold 3'our hands are ! " 
 
 " You startled me. I am alone, waiting for Serozha, who 
 went out for a walk : they will come back this way." 
 
 In spite of the calmness which she tried to show, her lips 
 trembled. 
 
 " Forgive me for coming, but I could not let the day go 
 by without seeing you," he continued, in French, thus avoid- 
 ing the impossible vui [you] and the dangerous tui [them] 
 of the Russian. 
 
 " What have I to forgive? I am too glad ! " 
 
 " But you are ill, or sad? " said he, bending over her and 
 still holding her hand. " What were you thinking about? " 
 
 " Always about one thing," she replied, with a smile. 
 
 She told the truth. AVhenever, in the day, she was asked 
 what she was thinking about, she would have made the in- 
 variable reply, that she was thinking about her future and 
 her misfortune. Just as he came, she was asking herself why 
 some, like Betsy for example, whose love-affair with Tush- 
 kievitch she knew about, could treat so lightly what to her 
 was so cruel. This thought had particularly tormented her 
 to-day. She spoke with him about the races ; and he, to 
 divert her mind, told her about the preparation that had 
 been made. His tone remained perfectly calm and natural. 
 
 " Shall I, or shall I not, tell him?" she thought, as she 
 looked at his calm, affectionate eyes. " He seems so happ}*, 
 he is so interested in these races, that he will not compre- 
 hend, probably, the importance of what I must tell him." 
 
 " But you have not told ine of what you were thinking
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 199 
 
 when I first came," said he suddenly, interrupting the 
 course of his narration. " Tell me, I beg of you ! " 
 
 She did not reply ; but she lifted her head, and turned her 
 beautiful eyes toward him ; her look was full of questioning ; 
 her fingers played with a fallen leaf. Vronsky's face imme- 
 diately showed the expression of humble adoration, of abso- 
 lute devotion, which had first won her heart. 
 
 "I feel that something has happened. Can I be easy 
 for an instant when I know that you feel a grief that I do 
 not share? In the name of Heaven, speak ! " he insisted, ill 
 a tone of entreaty. 
 
 " If he does not appreciate the importance of what I have 
 to tell him, I know that I shall never forgive him ; better be 
 silent than put him to the proof," she thought, continuing to 
 look at him : her hand trembled. 
 
 " In the name of Heaven, what is it? " said he, taking her 
 hand again. 
 
 "Shall I tell you?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, yes " 
 
 " Ya beremenna ! " she whispered. 
 
 The leaf which she held in her fingers trembled still more, 
 but she did not take her eyes from his face, for she was try- 
 ing to read there whether he understood her. 
 
 He grew pale, tried to speak, then stopped short, and hung 
 his head, dropping her hand which he was holding in both 
 his. 
 
 But she was mistaken in thinking that he felt as she did. 
 The feeling of repulsion and horror which had been so famil- 
 iar to him of late, now seized him more strongly than ever. 
 Her husband was coming home, and it was important to ex- 
 tricate themselves as soon as possible from the odious and 
 miserable situation in which they were placed. Anna's anx- 
 iety seized Vronsky. He looked at her with humbly submis- 
 sive eyes, kissed her hand, arose, and began to walk up and 
 down the terrace without speaking. 
 
 At last he approached her, and said in a tone of decis- 
 ion, 
 
 "Da/" said he: " neither you nor I have looked upon 
 our love for each other as a fleeting joy ; at last we must put 
 an end to the false situation in which we live," and he 
 looked around him. 
 
 "Put an end? How put an end, Aleksi?" she asked 
 gently.
 
 200 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 She was calm, and smiled upon him tenderly. 
 
 "You must quit your husband, and unite your life with 
 mine." 
 
 " But aren't they already united? " she asked in an under- 
 tone. 
 
 " Yes, but not completely, not absolutely ! " 
 
 " But how, Aleksei? tell me how," said she, with a melan- 
 choly irony, seeming to think that the situation was irretriev- 
 able. " Am I not the wife of my husband? " 
 
 " From any situation, however difficult, there is always 
 some way of escape : here we must simply be decided. 
 Any thing is better than the life you are leading. How well 
 I see how you torment yourself about your husband, your 
 son, society, all ! " 
 
 "Ach! only not my husband," said she with a smile. 
 " I don't know him, I don't think about him ! He is not." 
 
 " You speak insincerely ! I know you : you torment your- 
 self on his account also." 
 
 "But he" then suddenly the tears came in her eyes. 
 " Let us not speak more of him." 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 IT was not the first time that Vronsky had tried to bring 
 clearly before her mind their position. He had always met 
 the same superficial and almost ridiculous views. It seemed 
 to him that she was under control of feelings which she was 
 unwilling or unable to fathom, and she, the real Anna, dis- 
 appeared, to give place to a strange and incomprehensible 
 being, which he could not understand, and which seemed 
 almost repulsive to him. To-day he was bound to have an 
 absolute explanation. " Under any circumstances," he said 
 in a calm but authoritative voice, " we cannot continue as 
 we are." 
 
 " What, in your opinion, must we do about it? " she de- 
 manded, in the same tone of ironical raillery. Though she 
 had been so keenly afraid that he would not receive her con- 
 fidence with due appreciation, she was now vexed that he 
 deduced from it the absolute necessity of energetic action. 
 
 "Tell him all, and leave him." 
 
 " Very good ! Suppose I do it. Do you know what the 
 result would be? I will tell you ; " and a wicked fire flashed
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 201 
 
 from her eyes, which were just now so gentle. " ' Oh ! you 
 love another, and your course with him has been criminal,' " 
 said she, imitating her husband, and accenting the word 
 criminal in exactly his manner. " ' I warned you of the con- 
 sequences which would follow from the point of view of reli- 
 gion, of society, and of the family. You did not listen to 
 me : now I cannot allow my name to be dishonored, and 
 my' " she was going to say my scm, but stopped, for she 
 could not jest about him. u In a word, he will tell me with 
 the same manner and with the same perfect precision as he 
 conducts the affairs of state, that he cannot set me free, but 
 that he will take measures to avoid a scandal. And he will 
 do exactly as he sa}-s. That is what will take place ; for he 
 is not a man, he is a machine, and, when he is stirred up, 
 an ugly machine," said she, remembering the most trifling 
 details in her husband's language and face, and felt ready to 
 reproach him for all the ill that he found in her with all the 
 less indulgence because she recognized her own fault. 
 
 " But, Anna," said Vronsky gently, hoping to convince 
 her and calm her, " you must tell him every thing, and then 
 we will act accordingly as he proceeds." 
 
 "What! elope ?" 
 
 " Why not elope? I don't see the possibility of living as 
 we are any longer : it is not on my account, but I see you 
 will suffer." 
 
 "What! elope, and confess myself openly as your mis- 
 tress?" said she bitterly. 
 
 "Anna! " he cried, deeply wounded. 
 
 " Yes, as your mistress, and lose every thing ! " She was 
 going to say my son, but she could not pronounce the word. 
 
 Vronsky could not understand how this strong, loyal nature 
 could accept the false position in which she was placed, and 
 not endeavor to escape from it. But he could not doubt 
 that the principal obstacle was represented by this word son, 
 which she was unable to pronounce. 
 
 When Anna imagined this child's existence with a father 
 whom she had deserted, the horror of her sin appeared so 
 great, that like a real woman she was not able to reason, but 
 only endeavored to re-assure herself and persuade herself 
 that all would go on as before : above all things, she must 
 shut her eyes, and forget this odious thought, what would 
 become of her son. 
 
 " I beg of you, I entreat you," she said suddenly, speak-
 
 202 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 ing in a very different tone, a tone of tenderness and sincer- 
 ity, " don't ever speak to me of that again." 
 
 " But, Anna" 
 
 "Never, never! Let me remain judge of the situation. 
 I appreciate the depth of its misery, but it is not so easy as 
 you imagine to decide. Have faith in me, and never speak 
 to me again of that. Will you promise me? never, never? 
 promise ! " 
 
 "I promise all; but how can I be calm when you may 
 be" 
 
 " I? " she repeated. " It is true that I torment myself, 
 but that will pass if you will not say any thing more about 
 it." 
 
 " I don't understand " 
 
 "I know," she interrupted, "how j'our honest nature 
 abhors lying : I am sorry for you ; and very often I tell my- 
 self that you have sacrificed your life for me." 
 
 44 That is exactly what I say about you. I was just this 
 moment asking if you could immolate yourself for me. I 
 cannot forgive myself for having made you unhappy." 
 
 44 I unhappy?" said she, coming up close to him, and 
 looking at him with a smile full of love. "I? I am like 
 a man dying of hunger, to whom food has been given. May- 
 be he is cold, and his raiment is rags, but he is not unhappy. 
 I unhappy? No : here comes my joy " 
 
 The voice of her little boy was heard as he came in. 
 Anna gave a hurried glance around her, swiftly arose, and, 
 putting out her long hands covered with rings, she took 
 Vronsky's face between them : she looked at him a long 
 moment, reached her face up to his, kissed his lips and his 
 eyes, and left him. He kept her back a moment. 
 
 44 When? " he whispered, looking at her with ecstasy. 
 
 44 To-day at the right time," she replied in a low voice, and 
 then she ran to meet her son. Serozha had been caught by 
 the rain in the park, and had taken refuge with his nurse in 
 a pavilion. 
 
 "Nu ! . but good-by," said she to Vronsky. " I must get 
 ready for the races. Betsy has promised to come and get 
 me." 
 
 Vronsky looked at his watch, and hurried away.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 203 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 WHEN Vronsky looked at his watch on the Karnins' bal- 
 cony, he was so stirred and pre-occupied, that, though he saw 
 the figures on the face, he did not know what time it was. 
 He hurried out of the entrance, and, picking his way care- 
 fully through the mud, he reached his carriage. He had 
 been so absorbed by his conversation with Anna that he had 
 forgotten entirely about his appointment with Briansk}". 
 His memory was scarcely more than instinctive, and only 
 recalled to him that he had decided to do something. He 
 found his coachman asleep on his box under the shade of the 
 lindens ; he noticed the swarms of flies buzzing around his 
 sweaty horses ; and then, mechanically waking the coachman, 
 he jumped into his carriage, and was driven to Briansky's ; 
 he had gone but six or seven versts when his presence of 
 mind returned; it then came over him that he was late, and 
 he looked at his watch again ; it was half-past five. 
 
 On this day there were to be several races : first the 
 draught-horses, then the officers' t\vo-verst dash, then a 
 second of four, and last that in which he was to take part. 
 If he hurried, he could be on time by letting Briansky have 
 the go-b\- ; otherwise he ran the risk of getting to the grounds 
 after the Court had arrived, and this was not in good form. 
 Unfortunately he had promised Briansky, therefore he kept 
 on, commanding the coachman not to spare the troika. Five 
 minutes with Briansky, and he was off again at full speed. 
 He found that the rapid motion did him good. Little by 
 little he forgot his anxieties, and felt only the excitement of 
 the race, and imagined the brilliant society which would 
 gather to-day at the course. And he got more and more into 
 the atmosphere of the races as he met people coming from 
 Petersburg and the surrounding country, on their way to the 
 hippodrome. 
 
 When he reached his quarters, no one was at home except 
 his valet, who was waiting for him at the entrance. Every- 
 body had gone to the races. While he was changing his 
 clothes, his valet told him that the second race had already 
 begun, that a number of people had been to inquire for him. 
 
 Vronsky dressed without haste, for it was his custom to 
 keep calm, and not lose his self-command, and then directed 
 the coachman to take him to the stables. From there he saw
 
 204 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 a sea of carriages of all sorts, of pedestrians, soldiers, and 
 of spectators, approaching the hippodrome. The second 
 course was certainly run, for just at that moment he heard 
 the sound of a bell. He noticed near the stable Makhotin's 
 white-footed chestnut Gladiator, which they were leading out, 
 covered with a blue and orange caparison, and with huge ear- 
 protectors. 
 
 " Where is Cord? " he asked of the groom. 
 
 " In the stable : he is fixing the saddle." 
 
 Frou Frou was all saddled in her box-stall, and now they 
 came leading her out. 
 
 "I wasn't late, was I?" 
 
 " All right, all right," said the Englishman. " Don't get 
 excited." 
 
 Vronsk}- once more gave a quick glance at the excellent, 
 favorable shape of his horse, as she stood trembling in every 
 limb ; and, with a feeling of regret, he left her at the stable. 
 He saw that it was a favorable chance to approach without 
 attracting observation. The two-verst dash was just at an 
 end, and all eyes were fixed on a Jcavalergard (cavalry guards- 
 man) , and a hussar just at his heels, whipping their horses 
 furiously, and approaching the goal. The crowd flowed in 
 from all sides, and a group of officers and guardsmen were 
 hailing with shouts the triumph of their fellow-officer and 
 friend. 
 
 Vronsky joined the throng just as the bell announced the 
 end of the race ; while the victor dropped the reins, and 
 slipped off from the saddle, and stood by his roan stallion, 
 who was dripping with sweat, and heavily breathing. 
 
 The stallion, with painfully heaving sides, with legs apart, 
 stopped with difficulty his rapid course ; and the officer, as 
 though awakening from a dream, was looking about him with 
 a gaze of wonder. A throng of friends and curious stran- 
 gers pressed about him. 
 
 Vronsky, with intention, avoided the elegant people who 
 were circulating about, engaged in gay and animated conver- 
 sation. He had already caught sight of Anna, Betsy, and 
 his brother's wife. He did not, however, join them, so that 
 he might not be disconcerted ; but at every step he met ac- 
 quaintances who stopped him, and told him various items 
 about the last race, or asked him why he was late. 
 
 While they were distributing the prizes at the pavilion, 
 and everybody was hurrying in this direction, Vronsky saw
 
 ANNA KAItfiNINA. 205 
 
 his elder brother, Aleksandr. Like Aleksei, he was a man 
 of medium stature, and rather stubb}- ; but he was hand- 
 somer and ruddier. His nose was red, and his face was 
 flushed with wine, and he had an evil expression. He wore 
 a colonel's uniform with epaulets. 
 
 " Did you get my note? " he asked of his brother. "You 
 are never to be found." 
 
 Aleksandr Vronsky, in spite of his life of dissipation and 
 his love for drink, was a thoroughly aristocratic man. Know- 
 ing that many eyes were fixed on them, he preserved, while 
 he talked with his brother on a very painful subject, the smil- 
 ing face of a person who is jesting about some trifling matter. 
 
 " I got it," said he, " but I don't really understand why 
 you meddle with me." 
 
 "I meddle because I noticed your absence this morning, 
 and because you were not at Peterhof Monday." 
 
 "There are matters which cannot be judged except by 
 those who are directly interested, and the matter in which 
 you concern yourself is such ' ' 
 
 " Yes ; but when one is not in the service, he " 
 
 " I beg you to mind your own business, and that is all." 
 
 Aleksei Vronsky grew pale, and his rather prominent lower 
 jaw shook. He was a man of kindly heart, and rarely got 
 angry ; but when he grew angry, and when his chin trembled, 
 he became dangerous. Aleksandr Vronsky knew it, and 
 with a gay laugh replied, 
 
 "I only wanted to give you mdtushka's letter. Don't get 
 angry before the race. Bonne chance," he added in French, 
 and left him. 
 
 He had scarcely turned away, when another friendly greet- 
 ing surprised Yronsky. 
 
 " ^Yon't you recognize your friends ? How are you, mon 
 cJier?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, who, in the midst of the 
 brilliant society of Petersburg, was no less gay and animated 
 than at Moscow, and now appeared with rosy face and care- 
 fully combed and pomaded whiskers. 
 
 " I came down this morning, and am very glad to be pres- 
 ent at your triumph. Where can we meet? " 
 
 "Come to the mess, after the race is over," said Vronsky ; 
 and with an apology for leaving him. he squeezed his hand, 
 and went towards the place where the horses were getting 
 ready for the hurdle-race. 
 
 The grooms were leading back the horses, wearied by the
 
 206 ANNA KAKfiNINA. 
 
 race which they had run ; and one by one those intended 
 for the next course appeared on the ground. They were, for 
 the most part, English horses, in hoods, and well capari- 
 soned, and looked for all the world like enormous strange 
 birds. Frou Frou, beautiful, though she was so thin, came 
 out stepping high, with her elastic and slender pasterns. 
 And not far from her they were removing the trappings from 
 the lop-eared Gladiator. The regular, solid, and superb form 
 of the stallion, with his splendid crupper and his extraordi- 
 narily large and well-balanced hoofs, attracted Vronsky's 
 admiration. He was just going up to Frou Frou when 
 another acquaintance stopped him again on his way. 
 
 "Ha! there is Kareuin : he is hunting for his wife. She 
 is in the pavilion. Have you seen her? " 
 
 " No, I have not," replied Vronsky ; and, without turning 
 his head in the direction where his acquaintance told him 
 that Madame Kare'nina was, he went to his horse. 
 
 He had scarcely time to make some adjustment of the sad- 
 dle, when those who were to compete in the hurdle-race were 
 called to receive their numbers. With serious, stern, and 
 almost solemn faces, they approached, seventeen men in all; 
 and some of them were rather pale. Vrousky's number was 
 seven. 
 
 " Mount ! " was the cry. 
 
 Vronsky, feeling that he, with his companions, was the 
 focus toward which all eyes were turned, went up to his 
 horse with the slow and deliberate motions which were usual 
 to him when he was not entirely at his ease. 
 
 Cord, in honor of the races, had put on his gala-day cos- 
 tume : he wore a black coat, buttoned to the chin, and an 
 enormously high shirt-collar, which made his cheeks puff out ; 
 he had on Hessian boots and a round black cap. Calm, but 
 full of importance, he stood by the mare's head, holding the 
 reins in his hand. Frou Frou shivered as though she had an 
 attack of fever : her fiery eyes gazed askance at Vronsky. 
 He passed his finger under the flap of the saddle. The 
 mare jumped back, and pricked up her ears ; and the English- 
 man puckered up his lips with a grin at the idea that there 
 could be any doubt as to his skill in putting on a saddle. 
 " Mount, and 3*011 won't be so nervous," said he. 
 
 Vrousky cast a final glance on his rivals : he knew that he 
 should not see them again until the race was over. Tur had 
 already gone to the starting-point. Galtsuiu, a friend of his,
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 207 
 
 and one of the best of racers, was turning around and around 
 his bay stallion, without being able to mount. A little hussar 
 in tight cavalry trousers was off on a gallop, bent double over 
 his horse, like a cat with the gripes, in imitation of the 
 English fashion. Prince Kuzoflef, white as a sheet, was 
 trying to mount a thoroughbred mare, which an Englishman 
 held by the bridle. Vrousky and all his comrades knew 
 Kuzoflef's terrible self-conceit, and his feeble nerves. They 
 knew that he was timid at every thing, especially timid of 
 riding horseback ; but now, notwithstanding the fact that all 
 this was horrible to him, because he knew that people broke 
 their necks, and that at every hurdle stood a surgeon, an 
 ambulance with its cross and sister of charity, still he had 
 made up his mind to ride. 
 
 They exchanged glances, and Vronsky gave him an en- 
 couraging nod. One only he now failed to see : his most 
 redoubtable rival, Makhotiu, on Gladiator, was not there. 
 
 " Don't be in haste," said Cord to Vronsky, " and don't 
 forget this one important point ; when you come to a hurdle, 
 don't pull back or spur on }-our horse ; let her take it her 
 own way." 
 
 " Very good," replied Vrousky, taking the reins. 
 
 " If possible, take the lead, but don't be discouraged if 
 for a few minutes you are behind." 
 
 The horse did not have time to stir before Vronsk}*, with 
 supple and powerful movement, put his foot on the notched 
 steel stirrup, and gracefully, firmly, took his seat on the 
 squeaking leather saddle. Then he arranged the double 
 reins between his fingers, and Cord let go the animal's head. 
 Frou Frou stretched out her neck, and pulled upon the reins 
 as though she wanted to ask what sort of a gait would be re- 
 quired of her ; and she started off at an easy, elastic pace, bal- 
 ancing her rider on her strong, flexible back. Cord followed 
 them with mighty strides. The mare, excited, jumped to 
 right and left, trying to take her master off his guard ; and 
 Vronsky vainly endeavored to calm her with his voice and 
 with his hand. 
 
 They were approaching the river-bank, where the starting- 
 post was placed. Vronsky, preceded by some, followed by 
 others, suddenly heard on the muddy track the gallop of a 
 horse ; and Gladiator, with Makhotin on his back, smiling, 
 and showing his long teeth, dashed by. Vronsky looked at 
 him angrily. He did not like Makhotin any too well, and
 
 208 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 now he was his most dangerous rival : so this fashion of gal- 
 loping up behind him, and exciting his mare, displeased and 
 angered him. 
 
 Frou Frou kicked up her heels, and started off in a gallop, 
 made two bounds, and then, feeling the restraint of the curb, 
 changed her gait into a trot which shook up her rider. Cord, 
 disgusted, ran almost as fast, and kept up by his master's 
 side. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 THE race-course was a great ellipse of four versts, extend- 
 ing before the judges' stand, and nine obstacles were placed 
 upon it: the rekd [river] ; a great barrier, two ar shins [4.66 
 feet] high, in front of the pavilion ; a dry ditch ; a ditch 
 filled with water ; a steep ascent ; an Irish banquette, which 
 is the most difficult of all, composed of an embankment cov- 
 ered with twigs, behind which is concealed a ditch, obliging 
 the horseman to leap two obstacles at once, at the risk of 
 his life ; then three more ditches, two filled with water ; and 
 finally the goal opposite the pavilion again. The track did 
 not begin in the circle itself, but about a hundred sdzhens 
 (seven hundred feet) to one side ; and in this space was the 
 first obstacle, the brimming rekd, about three arshins (seven 
 feet) in width, which they were free to leap or to ford. 
 
 Three times the seventeen riders got into line, but each 
 time some horse or other started before the signal, and the 
 men had to be called back. Colonel Sestrin, the starter, was 
 beginning to get impatient ; but at last, for the fourth time, 
 the signal was given, "Go!" and the riders spurred their 
 horses. 
 
 All eyes, all lorgnettes, were directed towards the racers. 
 
 "There they go!" "There they come!" was shouted 
 on all sides. 
 
 And in order to follow them, the spectators rushed, sin- 
 gly or in groups, towards the places where they could get a 
 better view. At the first moment the horsemen scattered 
 a little as they, in threes and twos and singly, one after the 
 other, approached the rekd. From a distance they seemed 
 like an undistinguishable mass, but these fractions of sepa- 
 ration had their own value. 
 
 Frou Frou, excited and too nervous at first, lost ground, 
 and several of the horses were ahead of her; but Vrousky,
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 209 
 
 though he had not yet leaped the rekd, and was trying to 
 calm her as she pulled on the bridle, soon easily outstripped 
 the three who had won on him, and now had as competitors 
 only Gladiator, who was a whole length ahead, and the 
 pretty Diana, on whose back clung the unhappy Prince Ku- 
 zoflef, not knowing whether he was dead or alive. 
 
 During these first few seconds Vronsky had no more con- 
 trol of himself than of his horse. 
 
 Gladiator and Diana leaped the rekd at almost one and 
 the same moment. Frou Frou lightly leaped behind them, as 
 though she had wings. The instant that Vrousky was in 
 the air, he caught a glimpse of Kuzoflef almost under the 
 feet of his horse, wrestling with Diana on the other side of 
 the rekd. Vronsky heard after the race, how Kuzoflef had 
 loosened the reins after Diana jumped, and the horse had 
 stumbled, throwing him on his head. But at this time he 
 only saw that Frou Frou was going to land on Diana's head. 
 But Frou Frou, like a falling cat, making a desperate effort 
 with back and legs as she leaped, lauded beyond the fallen 
 racer. 
 
 " O my beauty ! " thought Vronsky. 
 
 After the rekd he regained full control of his horse, and 
 even held her back a little, meaning to leap the great hurdle 
 behind Makhotin, whom he had no hopes of outstripping 
 before they reached the long stretch of about two hundred 
 sdzhens [fourteen hundred feet], which was free of obstacles. 
 
 This great hurdle was built exactly in front of the Imperial 
 Pavilion : the Emperor, the court, and an immense throng, 
 were watching as they drew near it. Vronsky felt all these 
 eyes fixed on him from every side ; but he saw only his 
 horse's ears, the ground flying under him, and Gladiator's 
 flanks, and white feet beating the ground in cadence, and 
 always maintaining the same distance between them. Glad- 
 iator flew at the hurdle, gave a whisk of his well-cropped 
 tail, and, without having touched the hurdle, vanished from 
 Vron sky's eyes. 
 
 " Bravo ! " cried a voice. 
 
 At the same instant the planks of the hurdle flashed be- 
 fore his eyes, his horse leaped without breaking, but he 
 heard behind him a loud crash. Frou Frou, excited by the 
 sight of Gladiator, had leaped too soon, and had struck the 
 hurdle with the shoes on her hind feet : her gait was un- 
 changvd ; and Vronsky, his face splashed with mud, saw that
 
 210 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 the distance had not increased or diminished, as he caught a 
 glimpse again of Gladiator's crupper, his short tail, and his 
 swift white feet. 
 
 Frou Frou seemed to have the same thought as her master, 
 for while not showing excitement, she sensibly increased her 
 speed, and gained on Makhotin by trying to take the inside 
 track. But Makhotin did not yield this advantage. Vron- 
 sky was wondering if they could not pass on the farther side 
 of the slope, when Frou Frou, as though divining his thought, 
 changed of her own accord, and took this direction. Her 
 shoulder, darkened with sweat, closed with Gladiator's flanks, 
 and for several seconds they flew almost side by side ; but in 
 order not to take the outside of the great circle, Vronsky 
 urged Frou Frou on just as they passed the divide, and on 
 the descent he managed to get the lead. As he drew by 
 Makhotin he saw his mud-stained face, and it seemed to him 
 that he smiled. Though he was behind, he was still there, 
 within a step ; and Vronsky could hear the regular rhythm of 
 his stallion's feet, and the hurried, but far from winded, 
 breathing. 
 
 The next two obstacles, the ditch and the hurdle, were 
 easily passed, but Gladiator's gallop and puffing came nearer. 
 Vronsky gave Frou Frou the spur, and perceived with a 
 thrill of 303*, that she easily accelerated her speed : the sound 
 of Gladiator's hoofs grew fainter. 
 
 He now had the lead, as he had desired, and as Cord had 
 recommended, and he felt sure of success. His emotion, his 
 joy, his affection for Frou Frou, were all on the increase. He 
 wanted to look back, but he did not dare to turn around, and 
 he did his best to calm himself, so as not to excite his horse. 
 A single serious obstacle now remained to be passed, the 
 Irish banquette, which if cleared, and if he kept his head 
 level, would give him the victory without the slightest doubt. 
 He and Frou Frou at the same instant caught sight of the 
 obstacle from afar, and both horse and man felt a moment 
 of hesitation. Vronsky noticed the hesitation in his horse's 
 ears ; and he was just lifting his whip when it occurred to 
 him, just in time, that she knew what she had to do. The 
 beautiful creature got her start, and, as he foresaw, seeming 
 to take advantage of the impetus, rose from the ground, and 
 cleared the ditch with energy that took her far beyond ; then 
 fell again into the measure of her pace without effort and 
 without change.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 211 
 
 " Bravo, Vronsky ! " cried the throng. Pie recognized his 
 friends and his regiment, who were standing near the obsta- 
 cle ; and he distinguished Yashvin's voice, though he did not 
 see him 
 
 tk O my beauty!" said he to himself, thinking of Frou 
 Frou, and yet listening to what was going on behind him. 
 " He has cleared it," he said, as he heard Gladiator's gallop 
 behind him. 
 
 The last ditch, full of water, two arshins wide, now was 
 left. Vronsky scarcely heeded it ; but, anxious to come in 
 far ahead of the others, he began to saw on the reins, and to 
 urge on the horse by falling into her motion, and leaning far 
 over her head. He felt that she was beginning to be ex- 
 hausted ; her neck and her sides were wet ; the sweat stood 
 in drops on her throat, her head, and her ears ; her breath 
 was short and gasping. Still, he was sure that she had force 
 enough to cover the two hundred sdzhens that laA" between 
 him and the goal. Only because he felt himself so near the 
 end, and by the extraordinary smoothness of her motion, did 
 Vronsky realize how much she had increased her speed. The 
 ditch was cleared, how, he did not know. She cleared it like 
 a bird. But at this moment Vronsky felt to his horror, that, 
 instead of taking the swing of his horse, he had made, through 
 some inexplicable reason, a wretchedly and unpardonably 
 wrong motion in falling back into the saddle. His position 
 suddenly changed, and he felt that something horrible had 
 happened. He could not give himself any clear idea of it ; 
 but there flashed by him a roan steed with white*feet, and 
 Makhotin was the winner. 
 
 One of Vronsky's feet touched the ground, and his horse 
 stumbled. He had scarcely time to clear himself when the 
 horse fell on her side, panting painfully, and making vain 
 efforts with her delicate foam-covered neck to rise again. 
 But she lay on the ground, and struggled like a wounded 
 bird : by the movement that he had made in the saddle, he 
 had broken her back. But he did not learn his fault till 
 afterwards. Now he saw only one thing, that Gladiator was 
 far ahead, and that he was there alone, standing on the wet 
 ground before his defeated Frou Frou, who stretched her 
 head towards him, and looked at him with her beautiful eyes. 
 Still not realizing the trouble, he pulled on the reins. The 
 poor animal struggled like a fish, and tried to get up on her 
 fore-legs ; but, unable to move her hind-quarters, she fell
 
 212 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 back on the ground all of a tremble. Vronskj*, his face pale, 
 and distorted with rage, kicked her in the belly to force her 
 to rise : she did not move, but gazed at her master with one 
 of her speaking looks, and buried her nose in the sand. 
 
 "A h! what have I done?" cried Vronsky, taking her 
 head in his hands. '" A h ! what have I done? " And the 
 lost race, and his humiliating, unpardonable blunder, and 
 the poor ruined horse ! ' A h ! what have I done? " 
 
 The surgeon and his assistant, his comrades, every one, ran 
 to his aid ; but to his great mortification, he found that he was 
 safe and sound. The horse's back was broken, and she had 
 to be killed. Incapable of uttering a word, Vronsky answered 
 nothing to all the questions which were put to him : he left 
 the race-course without picking up his cap, or knowing 
 whither he was going. He was in despair. For the first 
 time in his life he was the victim of a misfortune for which 
 there was no remedy, and for which he felt that he himself 
 was the only one to blame. 
 
 Yashvin hastened after him with his cap, and took him 
 back to his quarters. At the end of half an hour he was 
 calm and self-possessed again, but this race was for a long 
 time the most bitter and cruel remembrance of his life. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 THE relations of Aleks^i Aleksandrovitch seemed to un- 
 dergo no outward change. The only difference consisted 
 in the extra amount of business which he took upon his 
 shoulders. Early in the spring he went abroad, as he usually 
 did, to rest himself at the water-cure after the fatigues of 
 the winter. He returned in July, and resumed his duties with 
 new energy. His wife had taken up her summer quarters as 
 usual in the country, not far from Petersburg : he remained 
 in the city. Since their conversation after the reception at 
 the Princess Tverska'ia's, there had been nothing more said 
 between them of jealousies or suspicions ; but the tone of 
 raillery habitual with Aleksi Aleksandrovitch was very use- 
 ful to him in his present relations with his wife. His cool- 
 ness increased, although he seemed to have felt only a slight 
 ill will towards her after the conversation of that night. It 
 was only a cloud, nothing more. He seemed to sa}', "You 
 have not been willing to have an understanding with me ; so
 
 ANNA KAR&XINA. 213 
 
 much the worse for you. Now you must make the first ad- 
 vances, and I, iu my turn, will not listen to you." And he 
 bore himself towards his wife, in thought at least, very much 
 iu the way of a man who, in his rage at not being able to put 
 out a fire, should say, tk Burn, then ! So much the worse for 
 
 you." 
 
 This man, so keen and shrewd in matters of public con- 
 cern, could not see the absurdity of his conduct, or, if he 
 saw it, he shut his eyes to the wretchedness of his situation. 
 He preferred to bury the affection which he felt for his wife 
 and child deep in his heart, as in a box, sealed and secured. 
 And he assumed towards the child a singularly cold man- 
 ner, speaking to him always with, "Ah, young man!" in 
 the same ironical tone that he used towards Anna. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksaudrovitch thought and declared that he had 
 never had so many important affairs as this year ; but he did 
 not confess that he had himself brought them about, in order 
 to keep from opening his secret coffer which contained his 
 sentiments towards his wife and his family, and his thoughts 
 .concerning them, and which grew more and more troublesome 
 the longer he kept them out of sight. 
 
 If any one had assumed the right to ask him what he 
 thought about his wife's conduct, this calm and pacific Alek- 
 s^i Aleksandrovitch would have flown into a rage, and refused 
 to answer. And so his face always looked severe and stern 
 whenever any one asked for news of Anna. Aleksei Alek- 
 sandrovitch did not wish to think about his wife's conduct, 
 and therefore he did not think about her. 
 
 The Karenins' summer datcha was at Peterhof ; and the 
 Countess Lidia Ivauovna, who always spent her summers 
 in the same neighborhood, kept up friendly relations with 
 Anna. This year the countess had not cared to go to Peter- 
 hof ; and as she was talking with Kar^nin one day, she made 
 some allusion to the impropriety of Anna's intimacy with 
 Betsy and Vronsky. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch stopped her 
 harshl}', and declared that for him his wife was above sus- 
 picion. From that day he avoided the countess, shutting his 
 eyes to every thing he did not care to perceive ; and he did not 
 perceive that many people in society were beginning to give 
 Anna the cold shoulder ; and he did not question the motives 
 of her desire for going to Tsarskoe. where Betsy lived, not 
 far from Vron sky's camp. 
 
 He did not allow himself to think about this, and he did
 
 214 ANNA EARtiNINA. 
 
 not think ; but in spite of all, without any proof to support 
 him, he felt that he was deceived ; he had no doubt about 
 it, and he suffered deeply. How many times in the course of 
 his eight years of married life had he not asked himself as 
 he saw shattered homes, "How did this ever happen? Why 
 don't they free themselves at any cost from such an absurd 
 situation?" And now the evil was at his own door; but he 
 not only did not dream of extricating himself from his own 
 trouble, but he would not even admit it, because he was hor- 
 rified at the terrible and unnatural consequences which would 
 result. 
 
 Since his return from abroad, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch had 
 gone twice to visit his wife in the country, once to dine with 
 her, the other time to pass the evening with some guests, but 
 without spending the night, as had been his custom in previous 
 years. 
 
 The day of the races was extremely engrossing for Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch ; but when in the morning he made out the 
 programme of the day, he decided to go to Peterhof after 
 an early dinner, and thence to the hippodrome, where he 
 expected to find the court, and where it was proper that he 
 should be seen. For the sake of propriety also, he resolved 
 to visit his wife eveiy week. Moreover, it was the middle 
 of the month, and it was his custom at this time to place in 
 her hands the money for the household expenses. 
 
 Using all his will power, he allowed his thoughts about his 
 wife to take this direction ; but beyond this point he would 
 not permit them to pass. 
 
 His morning had been extremely full of business. The 
 evening before he had received a pamphlet, written by a trav- 
 eller who had won great renown by his explorations in China, 
 and a note from the Countess Lidia, begging him to receive 
 this traveller, who seemed likely to Jbe, on many accounts, 
 a useful and interesting man. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch had 
 not been able to get through the pamphlet in the evening, 
 and he finished it after breakfast. Then came petitions, 
 reports, visits, nominations, removals, the distribution of 
 rewards, pensions, salaries, correspondence, all that ' k work- 
 a-day labor," as Aleksei Aleksandrovitch called it, which 
 consumes so much time. 
 
 Then came his private business, a visit from his physician 
 and a call from his steward. The latter was not very long : 
 he only brought the money, and a brief report on the condi-
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 215 
 
 tion of his affairs, which this year was not very brilliant; the 
 expenses had been heavy, and there was a deficit. 
 
 The doctor, on the other hand, a famous physician, and a 
 good friend of Karenin's, took considerable time. He had 
 come without being summoned : and Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 
 was astonished at his visit, and at the scrupulous care with 
 which he plied him with questions, and sounded his lungs ; 
 he was not aware that his friend, the Countess Lidia, troubled 
 by his abnormal condition, had begged the doctor to visit 
 him, and give him a thorough examination. 
 
 " Do it for my sake," the countess said. 
 
 "I will do it for the sake of Russia, countess," replied 
 the doctor. 
 
 " Admirable man ! " cried the countess. 
 
 The doctor was very much disturbed at Aleksei Aleksan- 
 drovitch's state. His liver was congested, his digestion was 
 bad : the waters had done him no good. He ordered more 
 physical exercise, less mental strain, and, above all, freedom 
 from vexation of spirit ; but this was as easy as not to 
 breathe. 
 
 The doctor departed, leaving Aleksei Aleksandrovitch with 
 the disagreeable impression that something was very wrong 
 with him, and that there was no help for it. 
 
 On the way out, the doctor met on Karenin's steps his old 
 acquaintance, Sliudin, who was Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 's 
 chief secretary. They had been in the university together ; 
 but, though they rarely met, they were still excellent friends. 
 The doctor would scarcely have spoken to others with the 
 same freedom that he used towards Sliudin. 
 
 " How glad I am that you have been to see him ! He is 
 not well, and it seems to me Nu! what is it?" 
 
 " I will tell you," said the doctor, beckoning to his coach- 
 man to drive up to the door. " This is what I say ; " and, 
 taking with his white hand the fingers of his dogskin gloves, 
 he stretched it out: "try to break a tough cord, and it's 
 hard work ; but keep it stretched out to its utmost tension, 
 and touch it with your finger, it breaks. Now, with his 
 too sedentary life, and his too conscientious labor, he is 
 strained to the utmost limit ; and besides, there is a violent 
 pressure in another direction," concluded the doctor, raising 
 his eyebrows with a significant expression. " Shall you 
 be at the races?" he added as he got into his carriage. 
 "Yes, yes, certainly ; but it takes too much time," he said
 
 216 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 
 
 in reply to something that Sliudin said, and which he did 
 not catch. 
 
 Immediately after the doctor had gone, the celebrated 
 traveller came ; and Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, aided by the 
 pamphlet which he had just read, and by some previous in- 
 formation which he had on the subject, astonished his visitor 
 by the extent of his knowledge and the breadth of his views. 
 At the same time the Imperial Predvoditel (marshal) was 
 announced, who had come to Petersburg on business, and 
 wanted to talk with him. Then he was obliged to settle the 
 routine business with his chief secretary, and finally to make 
 an important and necessary call upon an official. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch had only time to get back to his 
 five o'clock dinner with Sliudin, whom he invited to join him 
 in his visit to the country and to the races. 
 
 Without knowing exactly why, he alwa3 T s endeavored lately 
 to have a third person present when he had an interview with 
 his wife. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 ANNA was in her room, standing before a mirror, and fas- 
 tening a final bow to her dress, with Anuushka's aid, when 
 the noise of wheels on the gravel driveway was heard. 
 
 14 It is too early for Betsy," she thought; and, looking out 
 of the window, she saw a carriage, and in the carriage the 
 black hat and well-known ears of Aleksei Aleksandrovitch. 
 
 "How provoking! Can he have come for the night?" 
 she thought ; and without taking time for a moment of re- 
 flection, and under the control of the spirit of falsehood, 
 which now ruled her, she went down-stairs, radiant with gay- 
 ety, to receive her husband, and spoke with him, not knowing 
 what she said. 
 
 " Ah ! how good of you ! " said she, extending her hand 
 to Kare"uin, while she smiled upon Sliudin as a household 
 friend. 
 
 "You've come for the night, I hope?" were her first 
 words, inspired by the demon of untruth; "and now we 
 will go to the races together. But how sorry I am ! I am 
 engaged to go with Betsy, who is coming for me." 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch frowned slightly at the name of 
 Betsy. 
 
 " Oh ! I will not separate the inseparables," said he, in his
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 217 
 
 light, jesting tone. "I will walk with Mikhail Vasilye"vitch. 
 The doctor advised me to take exercise : I will join the pe- 
 destrians, and imagine I am still at the Spa." 
 
 " There is no hurry," said Anna. " Will you have some 
 tea?" 
 
 She rang. 
 
 " Serve the tea, and tell Serozha that AlekseM Aleksandro- 
 vitch has come. Nu ! how is your health ? Mikhail Vas- 
 ilye"vitch. you have not been out to see us before : look ! how 
 beautifully I have arranged the balcony ! " said she, looking 
 now at her husband, now at her guest. 
 
 She spoke very simply and naturally, but too fast and too 
 fluently. She herself felt that it was so, especially when 
 she caught Mikhai'l Vasilyevitch looking at her with curiosity. 
 He got up and went out on the terrace, and she sat down 
 beside her husband. 
 
 " You do not look at all well," said she. 
 
 "Oh, yes ! The doctor came this morning, and wasted an 
 hour of my time. I am convinced that some one of my 
 friends sent him. How precious my health " 
 
 " No, what did he say? " 
 
 And she questioned him about his health and his labors, 
 advising him to take rest, and to come out into the country, 
 where she was. It was all said with gayety and animation, 
 and with brilliant light in her eyes, but Aleks6i Aleksandro- 
 vitch attached no special importance to her manner : he 
 heard only her words, and took them in their literal signi- 
 fication, replying simply, though rather ironically. The con- 
 versation had no special weight, yet Anna afterwards could 
 not remember it without genuine pain. 
 
 Serozha came in, accompanied by his governess. If Alek- 
 se"i Aleksandrovitch had allowed himself to notice, he would 
 have been struck by the timid manner in which the lad looked 
 at his parents, at his father first, and then at his mother. 
 But he was unwilling to see any thing, and he saw nothing. 
 
 " Ah, young man ! He has grown. Indeed, he is getting 
 to be a great fellow ! Good-morning, young man ! " 
 
 And he stretched out his hand to the puzzled child. Se- 
 rozha had always been a little afraid of his father ; but now, 
 since his father had begun to call him young man, and since 
 he had begun to rack his brains to discover whether Vronsky 
 were a friend or an enemy, he was becoming more tirnid than 
 ever. He turned towards his mother, as though for pro-
 
 218 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 tection : he felt at ease only when with her. Meantime 
 Aleksei Aleksandroviteh laid his hand on the boy's shoulder, 
 and asked his governess about him ; but the child was so 
 scared that Anna saw he was going to cry. She jumped up, 
 raised Aleksei Aleksandrovitch's hand to let the boy go, and 
 kissed him, and took him out on the terrace. Then she came 
 back to her husband again. 
 
 "It is getting late," she said, consulting her watch. 
 " Why doesn't Betsy come? " 
 
 "Da!" said Aleksei Aleksandroviteh, getting up, and 
 cracking the joints of his fingers. " I came also to bring 
 you some money, for nightingales don't live on songs," said 
 he. " You need it, I have no doubt." 
 
 " No, I don't need it yes I do," said she, not looking 
 at him. " Da! 3-011 will come back after the races? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " replied Aleksei Aleksandroviteh. " But here 
 is the glory of Peterhof, the Princess Tverskaia," he added, 
 looking through the window, and seeing a magnificent Eng- 
 lish carriage drawing up to the entrance: " what elegance ! 
 splendid ! nu! let us go too ! " 
 
 The princess did not leave her carriage : her tiger, in top- 
 boots and livery, and wearing a tall hat, leaped to the steps. 
 
 " I am going : good-by," said Anna, kissing her son, and 
 giving her hand to Aleksei Aleksandroviteh. " It was very 
 kind of you to come." 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandroviteh kissed her hand. 
 
 "Nu! till we meet again! You will come back to tea? 
 Excellent! " she said, as she went down the steps, seeming 
 radiant and happy. But hardly had she passed from his 
 sight before she shivered with repugnance as she felt on her 
 hand the place where his lips had kissed it. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 WHEN Aleksei Aleksandroviteh reached the race-course, 
 Anna was already in her place beside Betsy, in the grand 
 pavilion, where the high society was gathered in a brilliant 
 throng. She saw her husband from a distance, and invol- 
 untarily followed him as he came along. She saw him 
 approach the pavilion, replying with rather haughty conde- 
 scension to the salutations, which were meant to draw his 
 attention ; exchanging careless greetings with his equals ;
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 219 
 
 watching to catch the glances of the great ones of the earth, 
 to whom he paid his respects by removing his Jarge, round 
 hat, which came down to the top of his ears. Anna knew 
 all these mannerisms of salutation, and they were all equally 
 distasteful to her. " Nothing but ambition ; craze for suc- 
 cess ; it is all that his heart contains," she thought : " as to 
 his lofty views, his love for civilization, his religion, they 
 are only means whereb}' to gain an end ; that is all." 
 
 It was evident, from the glances that Karenin cast on the 
 pavilion, that he was seeking vainly for his wife in the sea 
 of muslin, ribbons, feathers, flowers, and sunshades. Anna 
 knew that he was looking for her, but she pretended not to 
 see him. 
 
 "Alekse'i Aleksandrovitch," cried the Princess Betsy, 
 " don't 3 - ou see your wife? here she is ! " 
 
 He looked up with his icy smile. " Every thing is so 
 brilliant here, that it blinds the eyes," he replied, as he 
 came up the pavilion. 
 
 He smiled at Anna, as it is a husband's duty to do when 
 he has only just left his wife, bowed to Betsy and his other 
 acquaintances, showing himself gallant towards the ladies, 
 polite towards the men. 
 
 A general, famous for his wit and his knowledge, was near 
 by; and Aleksei Aleksandrovitch joined him, and engaged in 
 conversation. It was between the two races : the general 
 attacked such kinds of amusement, Aleksei Aleksaudrovitch 
 defended them. 
 
 Anna heard his slow, shrill voice, and lost none of the 
 words which her husband spoke, and which rang unpleasantly 
 in her ear. When the hurdle-race began, she leaned forward, 
 not letting Vronsky out of her sight for an instant. She saw 
 him approach his horse, then mount it : her husband's voice 
 kept floating up to her. and was odious to her. She felt for 
 Vronsky ; but she suffered painfully at the sound of this 
 voice, every intonation of which she knew. 
 
 "I am a wicked woman, a lost woman," she thought; 
 " but I hate falsehood, I cannot endure lies ; but he [meaning 
 her husband] lives by them liar ! He knows all, he sees 
 every thing : how much feeling has he, if he can go on 
 speaking with such calmness? I should have some respect 
 for him if he killed me, if he killed Vronsky. But no ! 
 what he prefers above every thing is falsehood and conven- 
 tionality."
 
 220 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 Anna did not exactly know what she would have liked her 
 husband to* be, and she did not understand that the very 
 volubility of Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, which irritated her so, 
 was only the expression of his interior agitation : he felt the 
 need of making some intellectual exertion, just as a child 
 stretches its limbs when it suffers with pain. He wanted to 
 become oblivious to the thoughts that arose in his mind at 
 the sight of Anna and Vronsky, whose name he heard on 
 all sides. He disguised his mental disturbance b}- talking. 
 "Danger," he said, "is an indispensable condition in these 
 races of cavalry officers. If England can show in her history 
 glorious deeds of arms performed by her cavalry, she owes it 
 solely to the historic development of vigor in her people and 
 her horses. Sport, in my opinion, has a deep significance ; 
 and, as usual, we take it only in its superficial aspect." 
 
 "Not superficial," said the Princess Tverskaia : "they 
 say that one of the officers has broken two ribs." 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch smiled on the speaker with a 
 cold expression, which showed only his teeth. 
 
 " I admit, princess, that in this case it is not superficial, 
 but serious. But that is not the point ; " and he turned again 
 to the general, and resumed his dignified discourse. 
 
 " You must not forget that those who take part are mili- 
 tary men ; that this career is their choice, and that every 
 vocation has its reverse side of the medal. This belongs to 
 the calling of war. Such sport as boxing-matches and 
 Spanish bull-fights are indications of barbarism, but special- 
 ized sport is a sign of development." 
 
 " No, I won't come another time," the Princess Betsey 
 was saying : " it is too exciting for me ; don't you think so, 
 Anna?" 
 
 " It is exciting, but it is fascinating," said another lady: 
 "if I had been a Roman, I should never have left the 
 circus." 
 
 Anna did not speak, but was gazing intently through her 
 glass. 
 
 At this moment a tall general came across the pavilion. 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, breaking off his discourse abruptly, 
 arose with dignity, and made a low bow. 
 
 " Aren't you racing?" asked the general jestingly. 
 
 "My race is a far more difficult one," replied Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch respectfully ; and though this answer was 
 not remarkable for its sense, the military man seemed to
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 221 
 
 think that he had received a witty repartee from a witty man, 
 and appreciated la pointe cle la sauce. 
 
 "There are two sides to the question," Aleksei Aleksan- 
 drovitch said, resuming, "that of the spectator, and that of 
 the participant ; and 1 confess that a love for such spectacles 
 is a genuine sign of inferiority in the people, but" 
 
 " Princess, a wager," cried the voice of Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch from below, addressing Betsy. " Which side will you 
 take?" 
 
 " Anna and I bet on Prince Kuzoflef," replied Betsy. 
 
 " I am for Vronsky. A pair of gloves." 
 
 "Good!" 
 
 "How jolly! isn't it?" 
 
 Alekse'i Aleksandrovitch stopped speaking while this con- 
 versation was going on around him, and then he began anew. 
 
 " I confess, manly games " 
 
 At this instant the signal of departure was heard, and all 
 conversation ceased. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch also ceased 
 speaking ; but while every one stood up so as to look at the 
 re/id, he, not feeling interested in the race, instead of 
 watching the riders, looked around the assembly with weary 
 eyes. His gaze fell upon his wife. 
 
 Her face was pale and stern. Nothing existed for her 
 beyond the one person whom she was watching Her hands 
 convulsively clutched her fan : she held her breath. Kar^nin 
 looked around at the faces of other women. 
 
 "There is another lady very much moved, and still 
 another just the same: it is very natural," said Aleksei 
 Aleksaudrovitch to himself. He did not wish to look at her ; 
 but his gaze was irresistibly drawn to her face, whereon he 
 read only too plainly, and with feelings of horror, all that 
 he had tried to ignore. 
 
 When Kuzoflef fell, the excitement was general ; but Alek- 
 s6i Aleksandrovitch saw clearly by Anna's pale, triumphant 
 face, that he who fell was not the one on whom her gaze was 
 riveted. When, after Makhotin and Vronsky crossed the 
 great hurdle, another officer was thrown head first, and was 
 picked up for dead, a shudder of horror ran through the 
 assembly, but Aleksei Aleksandrovitch perceived that Anna 
 noticed nothing, and did not know what the people were 
 talking about. The more he studied her face, the greater 
 became his shame. Absorbed as she was in her interest in 
 Vronsky's course, Anna was conscious that her husband's
 
 222 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 
 
 cold e^-es were on her ; and she turned around towards him 
 for an instant questioningly, and with a slight frown. " Ach ! 
 I don't care," she seemed to say, as she turned her glass to 
 the race. She did not look at him again. 
 
 The race was disastrous : out of the seventeen riders, more 
 than half were thrown. Towards the end, the excitement 
 became intense, the more because the Emperor showed dis- 
 satisfaction. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 ALL were expressing their dissatisfaction, and the phrase 
 was going the rounds, "Now only the lions are left in the 
 arena;" and the terror caused by Vronsky's fall was so 
 universal, that Anna's cry of horror caused no astonishment. 
 But, unfortunately, her face continued to show more lively 
 symptoms of her anxiety than was proper. She lost her 
 presence of mind. She tried to escape, like a bird caught in 
 a snare. She struggled to arise, and to get away ; and she 
 cried to Betsy, " Come, let us go, let us go ! " 
 
 But Betsy did not hear her. She was leaning over, en- 
 gaged in lively conversation with a general who had just 
 entered the pavilion. 
 
 Alekse"i Aleksandrovitch hastened to his wife, and offered 
 her his arm. 
 
 " Come, if it is your wish to go," said he in French ; but 
 Anna did not heed him. She was listening eagerly to the 
 general's words. 
 
 " He has broken his leg, they say ; but this is not at all 
 likely," said the general. 
 
 Anna did not look at her husband ; but, taking her glass, 
 she gazed at the place where Vronsky had fallen. It was so 
 distant, and the crowd was so dense, that she could not make 
 any thing out of it. She dropped her lorgnette, and was try- 
 ing to go when an officer came galloping up to make some 
 report to the Emperor. Anna leaned forward, and listened. 
 
 " Stiva ! Stiva ! " she cried to her brother. 
 
 He did not hear her. 
 
 She again made an effort to leave the pavilion. 
 
 " I again offer you my arm, if you wish to go," repeated 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, touching her hand. 
 
 Anna drew back from him with aversion, and replied with- 
 out looking at him, "No, no : leave me ; I am going to stay."
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 223 
 
 At this moment she saw an officer riding at full speed across 
 the race-course from the place of the accident towards the 
 pavilion. Betsy beckoned to him with her handkerchief ; and 
 the officer came up, and said that the rider was uninjured, but 
 the horse had broken his back. 
 
 At this news, Anna quickly sat down, and hid her face be- 
 hind her fan. Aleksi Aleksandrovitch noticed not only that 
 she was weeping, but that she could not restrain the sobs 
 that heaved her bosom. He stepped in front of her to shield 
 her from the public gaze, and give her a chance to regain her 
 self-command. 
 
 " For the third time, I offer you my arm," said he, turn- 
 ing to her at the end of a few moments. 
 
 Anna looked at him, not knowing what to say. Betsy came 
 to her aid. 
 
 " No, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch. I brought Anna, and I 
 will be responsible for bringing her home." 
 
 " Excuse me, princess," he replied politely, and looking 
 her fuir in the face ; " but I see that she is not well here, and 
 I wish her to go home with me." 
 
 Anna obeyed in terror, and, rising hastily, took her hus- 
 band's arm. 
 
 " I will send to inquire for him, and let you know," whis- 
 pered Betsy. 
 
 As Aleksei Aleksandrovitch left the pavilion with his wife, 
 he spoke in his ordinary manner to all whom he met, and 
 Anna was forced to listen and to reply as usual ; but she was 
 not herself, and as in a dream she passed along on her hus- 
 band's arm. 
 
 "Is he killed, or not? Can it be true? "Will he come? 
 Shall I see him to-day? " she asked herself. 
 
 In silence she got into the carriage, and she sat in silence 
 while they left the throng of vehicles. In spite of all that 
 he had seen, Alekse'i Aleksandrovitch did not allow himself 
 to think of his wife's present attitude. He saw only the 
 external signs. He saw that her deportment had been im- 
 proper, and he felt obliged to speak to her about it. But it 
 was very difficult to say this only, and not go farther. He 
 opened his mouth to speak ; but, against his will, he said 
 something absolutely different. 
 
 " How strange that we all like to see these cruel specta- 
 cles ! I notice ' ' 
 
 "What? I did not understand you," said Anna scornfully.
 
 224 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 He was wounded, and instantl}- began to sa} r what was on 
 his mind : 
 
 " I am obliged to tell you," he began 
 
 "Now," thought Anna, "comes the explanation;" and 
 she was frightened. 
 
 " I am obliged to tell you* that your conduct to-day has 
 been extremely improper," said he iu French. 
 
 " Wherein has my conduct been improper? " she demanded 
 angril}', raising her head quickly, and looking him straight 
 in the eyes, no longer hiding her feelings under a mask of 
 gaj-ety, but putting on a bold front, which, with difficulty, 
 she maintained under her fears. 
 
 "Be careful," said he, pointing to the open window be- 
 hind the coachman's back. 
 
 He leaned forward to raise it. 
 
 " What impropriety did you remark? " she demanded. 
 
 "The despair which you took no pains to conceal when 
 one of the riders was thrown." 
 
 He awaited her answer ; but she said nothing, and looked 
 straight ahead. 
 
 " I have alread}* requested you so to behave when in so- 
 ciety that evil tongues cannot find any thing to say against 
 you. There was a time when I spoke of your inner feelings : 
 I now say nothing about them. Now I speak only of out- 
 ward appearances. You have behaved improperly, and I 
 would ask you not to let this happen again." 
 
 She heard only half of his words ; she felt overwhelmed 
 with fear ; and she thought only of Vronsky, and whether he 
 was killed. Was it he who was meant when they said the 
 rider was safe, but the horse had broken his back? 
 
 When Aleks^i Aleksandrovitch ceased speaking, she looked 
 at him with an ironical smile, and answered not a word, be- 
 cause she had not noticed what he said. At first he had 
 spoken boldly ; but as he saw clearly what he was speaking 
 about, the terror which possessed her seized him. At first 
 her smile led him into a strange mistake. " She is amused at 
 my suspicions ! She is going to tell me now that they are 
 groundless ; that this is absurd. ' ' 
 
 Such an answer he longed to hear : he was so afraid that 
 his suspicions would be confirmed, that he was ready to be- 
 lieve any thing that she might say. But the expression of 
 her gloomy and frightened face now allowed him no further 
 chance of falsehood.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 225 
 
 " Possibly I am mistaken," said he : " in that case, I beg 
 you to forgive me." 
 
 " No, }'ou are not mistaken," she replied, with measured 
 words, casting a look of despair on her husband's icy face. 
 "You are not mistaken: I was in despair, and I could not 
 help being. I hear you, but I am thinking only of him. I 
 love him, I have been false to you. I cannot endure you, I 
 fear you, I hate you ! Do with me what you please ! " And, 
 throwing herself into the bottom of the carriage, she cov- 
 ered her face with her hands, and burst into tears. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch did not move, or turn his face ; 
 but the solemn expression of his features suddenly assumed 
 a deathlike rigidity, which remained unchanged throughout 
 the drive home. As they reached the house, he turned his 
 head to her, and said, 
 
 "So! but I insist upon the preservation of appearances 
 from this time forth until I decide upon the measures which 
 I shall take, " and here his voice trembled, " and which 
 will be communicated to you ; and this I demand for the 
 sake of preserving my honor." 
 
 He stepped out of the carriage, and assisted Anna out. 
 Then, in presence of the domesties, he shook hands with 
 her, re-entered the carriage, and returned to Petersburg. 
 
 He had just gone, when a messenger from Betsy brought 
 a note to Anna : * 
 
 " I sent to Aleksel Vronsky to learn about his health. 
 He writes me that he is safe and sound, but in despair." 
 
 " Then he will come," she thought. " How well I did to 
 tell him all!" 
 
 She looked at her watch : scarcely three hours had passed 
 since she saw him, but the memory of their interview made 
 her heart beat. 
 
 " Bozhe mo'i! how light it is ! It is terrible ! but I love to 
 see his face, and I love this fantastic light. . . . My hus- 
 band ! Ach ! da! . . . nu I and thank God it is all over with 
 him!" 
 
 XXX. 
 
 As in all places where human beings congregate, so in the 
 little German village where the Shcherbatskys went to take 
 the waters, there is formed a sort of social crystallization 
 which puts every one in exact and unchangeable place. Just
 
 226 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 as a drop of water exposed to the cold alwa} T s and invaria- 
 bly takes a certain crystalline form, so each new individual 
 coming to the Spa finds himself invariably fixed in the social 
 scale. 
 
 " Fiirst Schtschbatzky, sammt Gemahlin und Tochter " 
 (Prince Sheherbatsky, wife and daughter), both by the apart- 
 ments that they occupied, and by their name and the acquaint- 
 ances that they made, immediately crystallized into the exact 
 place that was predestined to receive them. 
 
 The business of stratification was much more energetic 
 this year than usual, from the fact that a genuine German 
 Flirstin (princess) honored the waters with her presence. 
 The princess felt called upon to present her daughter, and 
 the ceremony took place two days after their arrival. Kitty, 
 dressed in a very simple toilet, that is to say, a very elegant 
 Parisian costume, made a deep and graceful courtesy. The 
 Filrstin said, 
 
 " I hope that the roses will soon bloom again in this pretty 
 little face." 
 
 And immediately the Sheherbatsky family found them- 
 selves in the fixed and definite walk in life from which it 
 was impossible to descend. They made the acquaintance of 
 an English Lady, of a German Grafin, and her son who had 
 been wounded in the late war, of a scientific man from Swe- 
 den, and of a M. Canut and his sister.* 
 
 But for the most part, the Shcherbatskys spontaneously 
 formed social relations among the people "from Moscow, 
 among them Marya Evgenyevna Rtishchevaia and her daugh- 
 ter, whom Kitty did not like because she likewise was ill on 
 account of a love-affair going wrong ; and a colonel whom she 
 always had seen in society, and known by his uniform and his 
 epaulets, and who now with his little eyes, and his bare neck 
 and flowery cravats, seemed to Kitty supremely ridiculous^ 
 and the more unendurable because she could not get rid of 
 him. When they were all established, it became very tire- 
 some to Kitty, the more as her father had gone to Carlsbad, 
 and she was left alone with her mother. She could not inter- 
 est herself in her old acquaintances, because she knew that 
 she should not find any thing novel in them ; and so her prin- 
 cipal amusement was in studying the people whom she had 
 never seen before. It was in accordance with Kitty's nature 
 to see the best side of people, especially of strangers ; and 
 now her remarks on the characters and scenes that she
 
 ANNA KARNINA. 227 
 
 amused herself in studying, were colored with a good-na- 
 tured exaggeration of their peculiarities. 
 
 Of all these people, there was one in whom she took a 
 most lively interest : it was a young girl who had come to 
 the baths with a Russian lady named Madame Stahl. Madame 
 Stahl, it was said, belonged to the high nobility ; but she was 
 unable to walk, and was seen only occasionally going in a 
 wheeled-chair to take the baths. But it was rather from 
 pride than illness, as the princess judged, that she failed to 
 make any acquaintances among the Russians. The young 
 girl was her nurse ; and, as Kitty discovered, she frequently 
 went to those who were seriously ill, and there were many 
 at the baths, and with the same natural, unaffected zeal, 
 took care of them. 
 
 This young Russian girl, Kitty discovered, was no relation 
 to Madame Stahl, nor even a hired companion. Madame 
 Stahl called her simply Varenka, but her friends called her 
 "Mademoiselle Varenka." Kitty not only found it ex- 
 tremely interesting to study the relations between this young 
 girl and Madame Stahl, and other unknown persons, but an 
 irresistible sympathy drew her towards Mademoiselle Vareuka ; 
 and, when their eyes met, she imagined that it pleased her 
 also. 
 
 Mademoiselle Varenka, though still quite young, seemed to 
 lack youthfulness : her age might be guessed as either nine- 
 teen or thirty. In spite of the lack of color in her face, 
 she was rather good-looking : if, on analysis, her head had 
 not been rather large, and her figure too slight, she would 
 have been considered handsome ; but she was not one to 
 please men ; she made one think of a beautiful flower, 
 which, though still preserving its petals, was faded and 
 without perfume. 
 
 Varenka seemed always absorbed in some important duty, 
 and never at leisure to amuse herself with idle nothings ; 
 and the example of this busy life made Kitty feel that per- 
 haps if she imitated her she would find what she was seeking 
 with so much trouble, an interest in life, a sentiment of 
 the dignity of life which would never have any thing in com- 
 mon with the social relationship of young women to young 
 men, which now seemed to Kitty like an ignominious ex- 
 posure of merchandise to be taken by the highest bidder. 
 The more she studied her unknown friend, the more she 
 longed to become acquainted with her, feeling that she was
 
 228 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 a creature of such perfection, that she would like to take her 
 as an example for herself. 
 
 The young girls passed each other many times every da)' ; 
 and Kitty's eyes seemed always to saj", "Who are you? 
 What are you ? Are you not, in truth, the charming person 
 that I imagine you to be? But for Heaven's sake," the look 
 seemed to add, " don't think that I would be indiscreet 
 enough to demand your acquaintance ! it is sufficient for me 
 to admire you, and to love you." 
 
 " I also love you, and you are veiy, very charming ; and 
 I would love you still better, if I had time," replied the look 
 of the stranger : and indeed she was always busy. Now it 
 was the children of a Russian family whom she was taking 
 home from the baths, now an invalid who had to be wrapped 
 in his plaid, or another whom she was trying to amuse, or 
 getting confections for some sick person, or bringing an- 
 other his coffee and cream. 
 
 One morning, soon after the arrival of the Shcherbatskys, 
 a couple appeared who immediately became the object of 
 rather unfriendly criticism: a tall, stooping man, with enor- 
 mous hands, black eyes, at once innocent and terrifying, 
 and wearing an old, ill-fitting, short coat. The woman was 
 no less outr6 in her costume : her face was marked with small- 
 pox, but was kindly in expression. 
 
 Kitty instantly recognized that they were Russians ; and 
 her imagination was at work constructing a touching romance, 
 of which they were the principal characters, when the princess 
 learned, by consulting the Jcurliste (list of arrivals), that this 
 was Nikolai Levin and Marya Nikolayevna ; and she put an 
 end to Kitty's romance by telling her what a bad man this 
 Levin was. 
 
 The fact that he was Konstantin Levin's brother, even 
 more than her mother's words, made these two people par- 
 ticularly repulsive to Kitty. This man with the strange 
 motion of his head became odious to her ; and she imagined 
 that she could read in his great, wild eyes, as they persist- 
 ently followed her, sentiments of irony and ill will : as far 
 as possible, she avoided meeting him.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 229 
 
 XXXI, & XXXII. 
 
 IT was a stormy da}' : the rain fell all the morning, and 
 the invalids with umbrellas thronged in the galleries. 
 
 Kitty and her mother, accompanied by the Muscovite 
 colonel playing the elegant in his European overcoat, bought 
 ready made in Frankfort, were walking on one side of 
 the gallery, in order to avoid Nikolai Levin, who was on the 
 other. Varenka in her sombre dress, and a black hat with 
 the brim turned down, was acting as guide to a blind old 
 French woman : each time that she and Kitty met, they ex- 
 changed friendly glances. 
 
 " Mamma, cau I speak with her? " asked Kitt}', seeing her 
 unknown friend approaching the spring, and judging that it 
 was a favorable time for them to meet. 
 
 "Yes, if you are very anxious. I will inquire about her, 
 and make her acquaintance first," said her mother. "But 
 why do you wish to know her? She is only a ladies' com- 
 panion. If you like, I can speak to Madame Stahl. I knew 
 her belle-sceur," added the princess, raising her head with 
 dignity. 
 
 Kitty knew that her mother was vexed at the attitude of 
 Madame Stahl, who seemed to avoid her ; and she did not 
 press the point. 
 
 " How charming she is ! " said she, as she saw Varenka 
 give the blind French lady a glass. " See how lovely and 
 gentle every thing is that she does." 
 
 "You amuse me with your engouements " [infatuations], 
 replied the princess. "No, let us not go farther," she 
 added, as she saw Levin approaching with Mary a and a 
 German doctor, with whom he was speaking in a sharp and 
 augiy tone. 
 
 As they turned to go back, suddenly they heard the sound 
 of angry voices and a cry. Levin had stopped, and was 
 shrieking with excited gestures. The doctor was also angry. 
 A crowd was gathering around them in a ring.. The princess 
 and Kitty hurried away, but the colonel joined the throng to 
 find out what the trouble was. After a few moments he 
 came back to them. 
 
 " What was it? " asked the princess. 
 
 "It is a shame and a disgrace," replied the colonel. 
 " Nothing worse than to meet these Russians abroad. This
 
 230 ANNA K Alt ti NINA. 
 
 huge gentleman quarrelled with his doctor, heaped indignities 
 upon him for not attending to him as he wished, and finally 
 he raised his cane. It is disgraceful." 
 
 " Ach ! how unpleasant ! how unpleasant ! " said the prin- 
 cess. " Nu! how did it end ?" 
 
 "Fortunately, this this girl with a hat like a toadstool 
 interfered. A Russian, it seems," said the colonel. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Varenka? " 
 
 " Yes, yes ! She went quicker than any one else, and took 
 the angry gentleman by the arm, and led him off." 
 
 " There, mamma ! " said Kitty, " and you wonder at my 
 enthusiasm for Varenka ! " 
 
 The next morning Kitty noticed that Varenka was taking 
 up with Levin and Marya just the same as with her other 
 proteges: she was talking with them, and acting as inter- 
 preter to the woman, who did not know any language besides 
 her own. 
 
 Kitty again begged her mother even more urgently to let 
 her become acquainted with Vareuka ; and though it was un- 
 pleasant to the princess to seem to be making advances to 
 the haughty and exclusive Madame Stahl, she satisfied her- 
 self that all was perfectly proper in the proposed acquaint- 
 ance. She chose a moment when Kitty was at the spring, 
 and addressed Varenka. 
 
 "Allow me to introduce myself," said she, with a con- 
 descending smile. " My daughter has taken a great fane}' 
 to you. But perhaps you do not know me. I " 
 
 "It is more than reciprocal, princess," replied Varenka 
 quickly. 
 
 '"What a good thing you did yesterday towards our sad 
 fellow-countryman," said the princess. 
 
 " I don't know," she replied. " I do not remember of 
 having done any thing." 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! you saved this Levin from an unpleasant 
 affair." 
 
 "Ah, yes! sa compagne called me, and I tried to calm 
 him : he is very sick, and very much put out with his doctor. 
 I am quite used to this kind of invalids." 
 
 "Da/ I believe you live at Mentoue with }*our aunt, 
 Madame Stahl. I used to know her belle-sceur." 
 
 " No, Madame Stahl is not my aunt. I call her raaracm, 
 but I am no relation to her. I was brought up by her," 
 replied Vareuka.
 
 ANNA KAlitiNINA. 231 
 
 All this was said with perfect simplicity ; and the expres- 
 sion of her pleasing face was so frank and sincere, that the 
 princess began to understand why Kitty was so charmed by 
 her. 
 
 " Nn! what is this Levin going to do? " she asked. 
 
 " He is going away." 
 
 At this moment, Kitty, radiant with pleasure because her 
 mother was talking with her friend, came in from the spring. 
 
 " J\ T , vot ! Kitty, your ardent desire to know Mademoi- 
 selle" 
 
 "Varenka," said the young girl. "Everybody calls me 
 so." 
 
 Kitty was delighted, and without speaking pressed her 
 new friend's hand a loug time, but without any response. 
 Varenka' s face, however, was lighted with a happy expression 
 tinged with melancholy ; and when she laughed, she showed 
 her large but handsome teeth. 
 
 "I have been longing to know you," she said. "But 
 you are so busy " 
 
 " Ach ! on the contrary, I haven't any thing to do," replied 
 Varenka ; but at the same instant two little Russian girls, the 
 daughters of an invalid, ran towards her, and said, 
 
 "Varenka, mamma is calling." 
 
 And Vareuka followed them. 
 
 When the princess set out to find about Varenka's past 
 life, and her relations with Madame Stahl, she learned the 
 following particulars : 
 
 Madame Stahl had always been a sickly and excitable 
 woman, who was said by some to have tormented the life 
 out of her husband, and by others to have been made un- 
 happy by his unreasonable behavior. After she was divorced 
 from her husband, she gave birth to her first child, who did 
 not live. Madame Stahl's family, knowing her sensitiveness, 
 and fearing that the shock would kill her, substituted for 
 the dead child the daughter of Court, a cook, born on the 
 same night, and in the same house at Petei'sburg. It was 
 Varenka. Madame Stahl afterwards learned that the child 
 was not her own, but continued to take charge of it, the 
 more willingly as the true parents shortly after died, leaving 
 it without relatives. 
 
 For more than ten years Madame Stahl lived abroad, in 
 the South, scarcely ever leaving her bed. Some said that 
 she had made a public show of her piety and good works :
 
 232 ANNA 
 
 others saw in her a superior being of real moral elevation, 
 and asserted that she lived onl}- for the sake of her charities ; 
 in a word, that she was really what she seemed to be. No 
 one knew whether she was Catholic, Protestant, or orthodox ; 
 one thing alone was certain, that she had friendly relations 
 with the high dignitaries of all the Churches and of all com- 
 munions. 
 
 Varenka always lived with Madame Stahl ; and all who 
 knew Madame Stahl knew Mile. Varenka also, and loved her. 
 
 Kitty became more and more attached to her friend, and 
 each day discovered some new charm in her. The princess, 
 seeing that Varenka's manners were excellent, and that she 
 was well educated, speaking French and English perfectly, 
 did not discourage the friendship, and, having discovered 
 that she sang, invited her to come and spend an evening with 
 them. 
 
 " Kitty plays, and we have a piano ; and, though the instru- 
 ment is bad, we shall be delighted to hear you," said the 
 princess with a forced politeness that was displeasing to 
 Kitty, especially as she knew that Varenka did not want to 
 sing. She came, however, that same evening, and brought 
 her music. The princess invited Marya Evgenyevna and her 
 daughter, and the colonel. Varenka seemed not to mind 
 the presence of these people, who were strangers to her, but 
 sat down to the piano without being urged : she could not 
 accompany herself, but she read the notes perfectly. Kitty 
 played very well, and accompanied her. 
 
 " You have a remarkable talent," said the princess after 
 the first song, which Varenka sang beautifully. 
 
 Marya f^vgenyevna and her daughter added their compli- 
 ments and their thanks. 
 
 "See," said the colonel, looking out of the window, 
 "what an audience you have attracted." In fact, a large 
 number of people had gathered in front of the house. 
 
 " I am very glad to have given you pleasure," said Va- 
 renka without affectation. 
 
 Kitty looked at her friend proudly : she admired her art 
 and her voice and her face, and, more than all, her bearing. 
 It was evident that Varenka made no boast of her singing, 
 and was indifferent to compliments. She simply seemed to 
 say, " Shall I sing some more, or is that enough? " 
 
 "If I were in her place, how proud I should be! 
 How happy I should be to see that crowd under the
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 233 
 
 window ! But she seems perfectly unconscious of it. All 
 that she seemed to want was to please maman. What is 
 there about her ? What is it that gives her this power of in- 
 difference, this calmness and independence? Plow I should 
 like to learn of her! " thought Kitty, as she looked into her 
 peaceful face. 
 
 The princess asked for a second song ; and Varenka sang 
 this as well as the first, with the same care and the same per- 
 fection, standing erect near the piano, and beating time with 
 her little brown hand. 
 
 The next piece in her music-roll was an Italian ana. 
 Kitty played the introduction, and turned towards Varenka. 
 
 " Let us skip that," said she, blushing. 
 
 Kitty, in surprise and wonder, fixed her eyes on Varenka's 
 face. 
 
 " Nu! another one," she said, hastily turning the pages, 
 and somehow feeling an intuition that the Italian song 
 brought back to her friend some painful association. 
 
 "No," replied Varenka, putting her hand on the notes. 
 " Let us sing this." And she sang as calmly and coolly as 
 before. 
 
 After the singing was over, they all thanked her again, 
 and went out into the dining-room to drink tea. Kitty and 
 Varenka went down into the little garden next the house. 
 
 " You had some association with that song, did you not?" 
 asked Kitty. " You need not tell me about it: simply say, 
 'Yes, I have.' " 
 
 "Why should I not tell you about it? Yes, there is an 
 association," said Varenka calmly, " and it is a painful one. 
 I once loved a man, and used to sing that piece to him." 
 
 Kitty with wide-open eyes looked at Varenka meekly, but 
 did not speak. 
 
 " I loved him, and he loved me also ; but his mother was 
 unwilling, and he married some one else. He does not live 
 very far from us now, and I sometimes see him. You didn't 
 think that I also had my romance, did you? " And her face 
 lighted up with a rare beauty, and a fire such as Kitty 
 imagined might have been habitual in other days. 
 
 "Why shouldn't I have thought so? If I were a man I 
 could never have loved any one else after knowing you," 
 said Kitty. " What I cannot conceive is, that he was able to 
 forget you, and make you unhappy for the sake of obeying 
 his mother. He couldn't have had any heart."
 
 234 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 " On the contrary, he was an excellent man : and I, I am 
 not unhappy; I am very happy nu! Shall we sing any 
 more this evening?" she added, turning towards the house. 
 
 " How good you are! how good you are!" cried Kitty, 
 stopping to kiss her. " If I could only be a bit like 
 you ! " 
 
 " Why should you resemble any one else besides yourself? 
 Stay the good girl that you are," said Varenka, with her 
 sweet and melancholy smile. 
 
 " No, I am not good at all. Nu! tell me. Stay, stay ; 
 let us sit down a little while," said Kitty, drawing her down 
 to a settee near by. "Tell me how it can be other than a pain 
 to think of a man who has scorned your love, who has 
 jilted you." 
 
 " Da! he did not scorn it at all : I am sure that he loved 
 me. But he was a dutiful son, and " 
 
 " And suppose it had not been for the sake of his mother, 
 of his own free will," said Kitty, feeling that she was be- 
 traying her secret by her face as well as by her words. 
 
 " Then he would not have behaved honorably, and I- 
 should not mourn for him," replied Varenka, perceiving that 
 the supposition concerned, not herself, but Kitty. 
 
 " But the insult ! " cried Kitty. ' Can one forget the in- 
 sult? It is impossible," said she, remembering her own 
 look when the music stopped at the last ball. 
 
 " Whose insult? You didn't do any thing wrong?" 
 
 " Worse than wrong, shameful ! " 
 
 Varenka shook her head, and laid her hand on Kitty's. 
 
 " Da! but why shameful? " she asked. "You surely did 
 not tell a man who showed indifference to you that you loved 
 him?" 
 
 "Certainly not: I never uttered a word. But he knew it. 
 There are looks, ways no, no! not if I lived a hundred 
 years should I ever forget it." 
 
 "Now, what is it? I don't understand you. The ques- 
 tion is solely this : do you love him now, or not? " said Va- 
 renka, who liked to call things by their right names. 
 
 " I hate him. I cannot forgive myself." 
 
 "But what for?" 
 
 " The shame, the insult." 
 
 "Ach! if every one were as sensitive as you ! There is 
 never a young girl who does not sometimes feel the same way. 
 It is all such a trifling thing ! "
 
 ANNA KARNINA. 235 
 
 " But what, then, is important? " asked Kitty, looking at 
 Varenka with astonishment and curiosity. 
 
 "Ach! many things are important," replied Varenka, 
 with a smile. 
 
 "Da! but what? " 
 
 "Ach! there are many things more important," replied 
 Vareuka, not knowing what to say ; but at that moment the 
 princess shouted from the window, 
 
 " Kitty, it is getting cool ; put on your shawl, or come in." 
 
 "It is time to go," said Varenka, getting up. "I must 
 go and see Madame Berthe : she asked me to come." 
 
 Kitty held her by the hand, and asked her, with a look full 
 of passionate, almost supplicating, curiosity, 
 
 " What is it that is so important? What can give calm? 
 You know : tell me." 
 
 But Varenka did not understand the meaning of Kitty's 
 look. She remembered only that she had still to go to see 
 Madame Berthe, and to get home at midnight for tea with 
 maman. She went back to the room, picked up her music, 
 and, having said good-night to all, she was going to take her 
 departure. 
 
 " Allow me : I will escort you," said the colonel. 
 
 " Certainly," said the princess. " How could you go home 
 alone at night? I was going to send Parasha with you." 
 
 Kitty saw that Varenka could hardly keep from smiling at 
 the idea that she needed any one to go home with her. 
 
 " No, I always go home alone, and nothing ever happens 
 to me," said she, taking her hat, and leaving Kitty again, 
 though she did not tell her " the one important thing." She 
 hurried away with firm steps, her music-roll under her arm, 
 and disappeared in the semi-darkness of a summer night, 
 cariying with her the secret of her dignity and her enviable 
 calmness. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 KITTY made Madame Stahl's acquaintance, and her rela- 
 tions with this lady and Varenka had a calming influence 
 upon her. 
 
 She learned, through this friendship, that there existed an 
 entirely new world, which hitherto had been hidden from her, 
 a beautiful, supernal world, which would enable her to look 
 calmly on her past. This world, which was entirety apart
 
 236 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 from the instinctive life which hitherto she had led, was the 
 spiritual life. This life was reached by religion, not the 
 religion to which Kitty had been accustomed since infancy, 
 a religion which consisted of going to morning and evening 
 service, and to the House of Widows, where she met her ac- 
 quaintances, or of learning by heart Slavonic texts with the 
 parish priest, but a lofty, mystic religion, united with the\ 
 purest thoughts and feelings, and believed in not through i 
 dut}', but through love. / 
 
 Kitty learned all this, but not by words. Madame StahT 
 spoke to her as to a lonely child whom she loved as the 
 type of her own youth, and only once did she make any 
 allusion to the consolation brought by faith and love for 
 human sorrows, and to the compassion of Christ, who looked 
 upon no sorrows as insignificant ; and she immediately 
 changed the subject. But in all this lady's motions, in her 
 words, in her heavenly looks, as Kitty called them, and, 
 above all, in the story of her life, which she knew through 
 Varenka, Kitty discovered " the important thing " which till 
 now had been but a sealed book to her. 
 
 But, lofty as Madame Stahl's character was, touching as 
 was her history, Kitty could not help noticing certain peculi- 
 arities, which troubled her. One day, for example, when 
 her relatives were mentioned. Madame Stahl smiled disdain- 
 fully : it was contrary to Christian charity. Another time 
 Kitty noticed, when she met a Roman-Catholic dignitary call- 
 ing upon her, that Madame Stahl kept her face carefully 
 shaded by the curtain, and had a strange look in her face. 
 These two incidents, though of slight importance, gave her 
 some pain, and caused her to doubt Madame Stahl's sin- 
 cerity. Varenka, on the other hand, alone in the world, 
 without family connections, without friends, hoping for 
 naught, harboring no ill will after her bitter disappointment, 
 seemed to her absolute perfection. It was through Varenka 
 that she learned how to forget herself, and to love her neigh- 
 bor, if she wanted to be happy, calm, and good. And, when 
 once she learned this, Kitty was no longer willing simply to 
 admire, but she gave herself up with her whole heart to the 
 new life which opened before her. After the stories which 
 Varenka told her of Madame Stahl and others whom she 
 named, Kitty drew up a plan for her coming life. She de- 
 cided, that, following the example of Aline, Madame Stahl's 
 niece, whom Varenka often told her about, she would visit
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 237 
 
 the poor, no matter where she found them, and that she 
 would aid them to the best of her ability ; that she would 
 distribute the gospel, read the New Testament to the sick, 
 to the dying, to criminals : this last idea especially appealed 
 to her. But she indulged in these dreams secretly, without 
 telling her mother of them, or even her friend. 
 
 However, while she was waiting to be able to carry out 
 her schemes on a wider scale, it was not difficult for Kitty 
 to put her new principles in practice : at the waters the sick 
 and the unhappy are easily found, and she did as Varenka 
 did. 
 
 The princess quickly noticed how completely Kitty had 
 fallen under the influence of her erigouement, as she called 
 Madame Stahl, and particularly Vareuka. She saw that 
 Kitty imitated Varenka, not only in her deeds of charity, but 
 even in her gait, in her speech, in her ways of shutting her 
 eyes. Later she discovered that her daughter was passing 
 through a sort of crisis of the soul quite independent of the 
 influence of her friends. 
 
 One evening the princess saw Kitty reading the Gospels 
 in a French Testament loaned her by Madame Stahl, an 
 unusual custom with her. She also noticed that she avoided 
 all the gayeties of life, and gave her time to the sick under 
 Varenka 's care, and particularly to a family of a poor sick 
 painter named Petrof . 
 
 The young girl seemed proud to fill, in this household, the 
 functions of a sister of charity. All this was very good ; 
 and the princess had no fault to find with it, and opposed it 
 all the less from the fact that Petrof 's wife was a woman of 
 good family, and that one day the Fiirstin, noticing Kitty's 
 beauty, had praised her, and called her the " ministering 
 angel." All would have been very good if the princess had 
 not feared the exaggeration into which her daughter might 
 easily be led. 
 
 " II ne faut rien outrer" ["One must never go to ex- 
 tremes "], she said to her in French. 
 
 The young girl did not answer ; but she questioned from the 
 bottom of her heart whether one could ever go to extremes 
 in a religion which bids you offer your left cheek when the 
 right has been struck, and to give your cloak to your neigh- 
 bor. But what pained the princess even more than this 
 tendency to exaggeration, was to feel that Kitty was unwill- 
 ing to open her heart to her mother. In point of fact, Kitty
 
 238 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 made a secret of these new feelings, not because she lacked 
 affection or respect for her mother, but simply because she 
 was her mother, and it would have been easier to confess 
 them to a stranger than to her mother. 
 
 "It is a long time since Anna Pavlovna has been to see 
 us," said the princess one day, speaking of Madame Petrova. 
 " I invited her to come, but she seems offended." 
 
 "No, I don't think so, wumun," replied Kitty with a 
 guilty look. 
 
 " You have not been with her lately, have you? " 
 
 "We planned a walk on the mountain for to-morrow," 
 said Kitty. 
 
 "I see no objection," replied the princess, noticing her 
 daughter's confusion, and trying to fathom the reason. 
 
 Varenka came the same da}-, and announced that Anna 
 Pavlovna had given up the proposed expedition. The prin- 
 cess noticed that Kitty looked still more confused. 
 
 " Kitty, there has not been any thing unpleasant between 
 you and the Petrofs, has there?" she asked, as soon as 
 they ^ere alone. "Why have they ceased to send their 
 children, or to come themselves? " 
 
 Kitty replied that nothing had happened, and that she did 
 not understand why Anna Pavlovna seemed to be angry with 
 her ; and she told the truth. But, if she did not know the 
 reasons for the change in Madame Petrova, she guessed 
 them, and also thus guessed a thing that she did not dare 
 to confess, even to herself, still less to her mother, so 
 humiliating and painful it would have been had she been 
 mistaken. 
 
 All the memories of her relations with this family came 
 back to her, one after the other. She remembered the joy 
 which shone on Anna Pavlovna's honest round face when 
 they first met ; their secret discussions to find means to dis- 
 tract the invalid, and keep him from the forbidden work, and 
 to get him out of doors ; the attachment of the youngest 
 child, who called her Moya Kiti, and would not go to bed 
 without her. How beautiful every thing was at that time ! 
 Then she remembered Petrofs thin face, his long neck 
 stretching out from his brown coat ; his thin curly hair ; 
 his blue eyes, with their questioning look, which she had 
 feared at first ; his feeble efforts to seem lively and energetic 
 when she was near ; the trouble that she had to overcome ; 
 the repugnance which he, as well as all consumptives, caused
 
 ANNA KARNINA. 239 
 
 her to feel ; and the trouble which she had in finding some- 
 thing to talk with him about. 
 
 She remembered the sick man's humble and timid looks 
 when he saw her, and the strange feeling of compassion and 
 awkwardness which came over her at first, followed by the 
 pleasant consciousness of her charitable deeds. How lovely 
 it all had been ! but it lasted only for a brief moment. 
 Now and for several days there had been a sudden change. 
 Anna Pavlovna received Kitty with scant friendliness, and 
 did not cease to watch her husband. 
 
 Could it be that the invalid's affecting joy at the sight of 
 her was the cause of Anna Pavlovna's coolness? "Yes," 
 she said to herself, "there was something unnatural and quite 
 different from her ordinary sweet temper when she said to 
 me, day before yesterday, sharply, ' Vot! he will not do any 
 thing without you ; he would not even take his coffee, though 
 he was very faint.' ' 
 
 "Da! perhaps it was not agreeable to her when I gave 
 him his plaid. It was such a simple little thing to do ; but 
 he seemed so strange, and thanked me so warmly, that I felt 
 ill at ease. And then that portrait of me which he painted 
 so well ; but, above all, his gentle and melancholy look. 
 Yes, yes, it must be so," Kitty repeated with horror. "No, 
 it cannot be, it must not be ! He is to be pitied so ! " she 
 added in her secret heart. 
 
 This suspicion poisoned the pleasure of her new life. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 JUST before their season at the Spa was over, Prince 
 Shcherbatsky rejoined them. He had been to Carlsbad, to 
 Baden, and to Kissiugen, with Russian friends, " to get a 
 breath of Russian air," as he expressed it. 
 
 The prince and princess had conflicting ideas in regard to 
 living abroad. The princess thought that every thing was 
 lovely ; and, notwithstanding her assured position in Russian 
 society, she put on the airs of a European lady while she 
 was abroad, which was not becoming, for she was in every 
 way a genuine Russian baruina. The prince, on the other 
 hand, considered every thing abroad detestable, and the 
 European life unendurable ; and he even exaggerated his 
 Russian characteristics, and tried to be less of a European 
 than he really was.
 
 240 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 He came back emaciated and with hollows under his eyes, 
 but in his ordinary happy spirits ; and he felt still more gay 
 when he found that Kitty was on the road to health. 
 
 The accounts that he heard of Kitty's intimacy with 
 Madame Stahl and Vareuka, and the princess's description 
 of the moral transformation through which his daughter was 
 passing, rather vexed the prince, awaking in him that feel- 
 ing of jealousy which he always had in regard to every thing 
 that might draw Kitty away from under his influence. He 
 was afraid that she might ascend to regions unattainable to 
 him. But these disagreeable presentiments were swallowed 
 up in the sea of gayety and good humor which he always 
 carried with him, and which his sojourn at Carlsbad had 
 increased. 
 
 The day after his arrival, the prince, in his long ulster, and 
 with his Russian wrinkles and his puffy cheeks standing out 
 above his stiffly starched collar, went in the very best of 
 spirits with Kitty to the spring. 
 
 The morning was beautiful. The neat, gay houses, with 
 their little gardens, the sight of the German servants, with 
 their red faces and red arms, happily working, the brilliant 
 sun, every thing filled the heart with pleasure. But as 
 they came nearer to the spring they met more and more 
 invalids, whose lamentable appearance contrasted painfully 
 with the trim and beneficent Germanic surroundings. 
 
 For Kitty the bright sunlight, the vivid green of the trees, 
 the sounds of the music, all formed a natural framework for 
 these well-known faces, whose changes for better or worse 
 she had been watching. But for the prince there was some- 
 thing cruel in the contrast between this bright June morning, 
 the orchestra playing the latest waltz, and especially the 
 sight of these healthy-looking servants, and the miserable 
 invalids, from all the corners of Europe, dragging themselves 
 painfully along. 
 
 In spite of the return of his youth which the prince ex- 
 perienced, and the pride that he felt in having his favorite 
 daughter on his arm, he confessed to a sense of shame and 
 awkwardness in walking along with his firm step and his vig- 
 orous limbs. 
 
 " Introduce me, introduce me to your new friends," said he 
 to his daughter, pressing her arm with his elbow. "I am be- 
 ginning to like your abominable Soden for the good which it 
 has done you. Only it is melancholy for you. Who is this?"
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 241 
 
 Kittj' told the names of the acquaintances and strangers 
 that they met on their way. At the very entrance of the 
 garden they met Madame Berthe and her companion, and 
 the prince was pleased to see the expression of joy on the 
 old woman's face at the sound of Kitty's voice. With true 
 French exaggeration she overwhelmed the prince with com- 
 pliments, and congratulated him on having such a charming 
 daughter, whose merits she praised to the skies, declaring 
 that she was a treasure, a pearl, a ministering angel. 
 
 " Nu! she must be angel number two," said the prince 
 gallantly, ''for she assures me that Mademoiselle Varenka 
 is angel number one." 
 
 "Oh! Mademoiselle Varenka is truly an angel. Allez," 
 said Madame Berthe vivaciously. 
 
 They soon met Varenka herself in the gallery. She has- 
 tened up to them, carrying an elegant red bag in her hand. 
 
 " Here is papa," said Kitty. 
 
 Varenka made the prince a simple and natural salutation, 
 almost like a courtesy, and without any false modesty entered 
 into conversation with him. 
 
 11 Of course I know you, know you very well already," 
 said the prince, with a pleasant expression that made Kitty 
 see that her father liked her friend. " Where were you 
 going so fast? " 
 
 " Maman is here," she replied, turning to Kitty. "She 
 did not sleep all night, and the doctor advised her to take 
 the air. I have brought her work." 
 
 "So that is angel number one?" said the prince when 
 Varenka had gone. Kitty saw that he had intended to rally 
 her about her friend, but had refrained because her friend 
 had pleased him. 
 
 " Nu! let us go and see them all," said he, " all your 
 friends, even Madame Stahl if she will deign to remember 
 me." 
 
 "But did you ever know her, papa?" asked Kitty with 
 fear, as she saw an ironical flash in her father's eyes as he 
 mentioned Madame Stahl. 
 
 " I knew her husband, and I knew her a little before she 
 joined the Pietists." 
 
 "What are these Pietists, papa?" asked Kitty, troubled 
 because such a nickname was given to what in Madame 
 Stahl she valued so highly. 
 
 " I myself do not know much about them. I only know
 
 242 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 this, that she thanks God for all her tribulations, and, above 
 all, because her husband is dead. Nu! and that is comical, 
 because they did not live happily together. But who is that? 
 What a melancholy face!" he added, seeing an invalid in 
 a brown coat, with white pantaloons making strange folds 
 around emaciated legs. This gentleman had raised his straw 
 hat, and bared his sparse curly hair and high forehead, on 
 which showed the red line made by the brim. 
 
 "That is Petrof, a painter," replied Kitty, with a blush; 
 " and there is his wife," she added, pointing to Anna Pav- 
 lovna, who, at their approach, had risen to run after one of 
 their children playing in the street. 
 
 "Poor fellow! and what a good face he has! " said the 
 prince. "But why did you not go to him? He seemed 
 anxious to speak to you." 
 
 " Nu! let us go back to him," said Kitty, resolutely turn- 
 ing about. " How do you feel to-day? " she asked. 
 
 Petrof arose, leaning en his cane, and looked timidly at 
 the prince. 
 
 "This is my daughter," said the prince: "allow me to 
 mike your acquaintance." 
 
 The painter bowed and smiled, showing teeth of strangely 
 dazzling whiteness. 
 
 " We expected you yesterday, princess," said he to 
 Kitty. 
 
 He staggered as he spoke ; and to conceal the fact that it 
 was involuntary, he repeated the motion. 
 
 " I expected to come, but Varenka told me that Anna 
 Pavlovna sent word that you were not going." 
 
 "That we weren't going?" said Petrof, troubled, and 
 beginning to cough. Then looking towards his wife, he called 
 hoarsely, " Anuetta ! Annetta ! " while the great veins on 
 his thin white neck stood out like cords. 
 
 Anna Pavlovna drew near. 
 
 " How did you send word to the princess that you were 
 not going? " he demanded angrily, in a whisper. 
 
 "Good-morning, princess." said Anna Pavlovna, in a 
 constrained manner, totally different from her former effu- 
 siveness. " Very glad to make your acquaintance," she 
 added, addressing the prince. "You have been long ex- 
 pected, prince." 
 
 "How could you have sent word to the princess that we 
 were not going? " again demanded the painter in his hoarse
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 243 
 
 whisper, and still more irritated because he could not express 
 himself as he wished. 
 
 " Ach! Bozhe mo'i ! I thought that we were not going," 
 said his wife testily. 
 
 " How ? when ? " but a coughing-fit attacked him, and 
 he made a gesture of despair with his hand. 
 
 The prince raised his hat, and went away with his daughter. 
 
 " Oh ! Ach ! " he sighed. " Oh these poor creatures ! " 
 
 "Yes, papa," said Kitty; "and you must know that 
 they have three children, and no servant, and no means at 
 all. He receives a pittance from the Academy," she con- 
 tinued eagerly, so as to conceal the emotion caused by the 
 change in Anna Pavlovna and her unfriendly reception. 
 "Ah,vot! there is Madame Stahl!" said Kitty, directing 
 his attention to a wheeled-chair, in which was lying a human 
 form, wrapped in gray and blue, propped up by pillows, and 
 shaded by an umbrella. A solemn and sturdy German laborer 
 was pushing her chair. Beside her walked a blond Swedish 
 count, whom Kitty knew by sight. Several people had 
 stopped near the wheeled-chair, and were gazing at this 
 lady as though she were some curiosity. 
 
 The prince approached her. Kitty instantl}' noticed in 
 her father's eyes that ironical glance which had troubled her 
 before. He addressed Madame Stahl in that excellent French 
 which so few Russians nowadays are able to speak, and was 
 extremely polite and friendly. 
 
 "I do not know whether you still recollect me, but it is 
 my duty to bring myself to your remembrance, in order that 
 I may thank you for kindness to my daughter," said he, 
 taking off his hat, and holding it in his hand. 
 
 " Le prince Alexandre Cherbatsky ! " said Madame Stahl, 
 looking at him with her heavenly eyes, in which Kitty 
 thought she saw a shade of dissatisfaction. " I am en- 
 chanted to see you : I am very fond of your daughter." 
 
 " Your health is not always good? " 
 
 " Oh ! I am pretty well used to it now," replied Madame 
 Stahl ; and she presented the Swedish count. 
 
 "You have changed very little during the ten or twelve 
 years since I had the honor of seeing you." 
 
 " Yes. God, who gives the cross, gives also the power to 
 carry it. I often ask myself why my life is so prolonged. 
 Not like that," said she crossly, to Varenka, who was trying, 
 without success, to wrap her in her plaid.
 
 244 ANNA KAKfiNINA. 
 
 "For doing good, without doubt," said the prince, with 
 laughing eyes. 
 
 " It is not for us to judge," replied Madame Stahl, who 
 had not failed to observe the gleam of irony in the prince's 
 face. 
 
 " I pray you send me that book, dear count. I thank you 
 a thousand times in advance," said she, turning to the young 
 Swede. 
 
 " Ah ! " cried the prince, who had just caught sight of the 
 Muscovite colonel ; and bowing to Madame Stahl, he went 
 away with his daughter, to join him. 
 
 "This is our aristocracy, prince ! " said the colonel, with 
 sarcastic intent, for he also was piqued because Madame 
 Stahl refused to be friendly. 
 
 " Always the same," replied the prince. 
 
 "Did you know her before her illness, prince, that is, 
 before she became an invalid ? ' ' 
 
 " Yes : she became an invalid when I knew her." 
 
 " They say that she has not walked for ten 3 T ears." 
 
 " She does not walk, because one leg is "shorter than the 
 other. She is very badly put together " 
 
 "Papa, it is impossible," cried Kitty. 
 
 " Evil tongues say so, my dear ; and your friend Varenka 
 ought to see her as she is. Och! these invalid ladies ! " 
 
 " Oh, no, papa ! I assure you, Varenka adores her," cried 
 Kitty eagerly ; " and besides, she isn't deformed. Ask any 
 one you please : Aline Stahl knows her thoroughly." 
 
 "Maybe," replied her father, pressing her arm gently; 
 " but it would be better for people to be a little less con- 
 spicuous in making their charities." 
 
 Kitty was silent, not because she could not have replied, 
 but because, even to her father, she was unwilling to reveal 
 her inmost thoughts. There was one strange thing, how- 
 ever : decided though she was, not to unbosom herself to her 
 father, not to let him penetrate into the sanctuary of her 
 reflections, she nevertheless was conscious that her ideal of 
 holiness, as seen in Madame Stahl, which she had for a whole 
 mouth carried in her soul, had irrevocably disappeared, as a 
 face, seen in a garment thrown down by chance, disappears 
 when one really sees how the garment is lying. She retained 
 only the image of a lame woman who staid in bed to conceal 
 her deformity, and who tormented poor Varenka because 
 her plaid was not arranged to suit her. And it became im-
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 245 
 
 possible for her imagination to bring back to her the remem- 
 brance of the former Madame Stahl. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 THE prince's gayety and good-humor were contagious, and 
 none of his household and acquaintances, not even their 
 German landlord, escaped it. When he came in with Kitty, 
 from his walk, the prince invited the colonel, Mary a Evgen- 
 yevna and her daughter, and Varenka, to lunch, and had 
 the table spread under the horse-chestnuts, in the garden. 
 The larrdlord and his domestics were filled with zeal under 
 the influence of his good spirits. They also knew his gene- 
 rosity ; and within half an hour the jollity of these hearty Rus- 
 sians, sitting under the horse-chestnuts, was filling with envy 
 the heart of a sick Hamburg doctor, who occupied the first 
 floor, and sighed as he looked upon the happy group under 
 the shady trees. 
 
 The princess, in a bonnet trimmed with lilac ribbons, 
 presided over the table, which was spread with an exceedingly 
 white cloth, whereon were placed the coffee-service, the 
 bread, butter, cheese, and cold game ; she was distributing 
 cups and tarts : while the prince, at the other end of the 
 table, was eating with good appetite, and talking with great 
 animation. He had spread out in front of him all his pur- 
 chases, wood-carvings, paper-cutters, ivory toys of every 
 kind, which he had brought back from all the places where 
 he had been ; and he was amusing himself by giving them 
 around to all his guests, not even forgetting Lieschen the 
 maid, or the master of the house. He made long and comi- 
 cal speeches to the latter, in his bad German, and assured 
 him that it was not the waters that had cured Kitty, but his 
 excellent cuisine, and particularly his prune soup. The prin- 
 cess rallied her husband on his Russian peculiarities ; but 
 never, since she had been at the Spa, had she been so gay and 
 lively. The colonel, as always, was amused at the prince's 
 sallies of wit ; but he agreed with the princess on the Euro- 
 pean question, which he imagined that he understood 
 thoroughly. The good Marya Evgenyevna laughed till the 
 tears ran down her cheeks ; and even Varenka, to Kitty's 
 great astonishment, was awakened from her ordinary quiet 
 melancholy by the prince's jests.
 
 246 ANNA KAIitiNINA. 
 
 All this delighted Kitty, but she could not free herself 
 from mental agitation : she could not resolve the problem 
 which her father had unintentionally given her when he spoke 
 in his jesting, humorous way of her friends, and the life which 
 offered her so many attractions. Moreover, she could not 
 help puzzling herself with the reasons for the change in her 
 relations with the Petrofs, which had struck her this very 
 day more plainly and disagreeably than ever. Her agitation 
 increased as she saw the gayety of the others : her feelings 
 were the same as when she was a very little girl, and, having 
 been punished for some offence, she heard from her room her 
 sisters enjoying themselves, and could not take part. 
 
 "Nut why did you purchase this heap of things?" asked 
 the princess, offering her husband a cup of coffee. 
 
 " You go out for a walk, nu! and you come to a shop, and 
 they address you, and say, l Erlaucht, Excellenz, Durch- 
 laucht!' Nu! when they get to Durcfilaucht [highness], I 
 cannot resist any longer, and my ten t haters vanish." 
 
 " It was merely because of irksomeness ! " 
 
 "Certainly it was, such irksomeness that one does not 
 know how to escape from it." 
 
 "But how can you be bored? There are so many inter- 
 esting things to see in Germany now," said Marya Evgen- 
 yevna. 
 
 "Da! I know all that is interesting just at the present 
 time. I know soup with prunes, I know pea-pudding, I 
 know every thing." 
 
 "It is idle to resist, princess : their institutions are inter- 
 esting." 
 
 l *Dat but how are they interesting? They are as con- 
 tented as new shillings [lit. groshi, twenty kopeks]. They 
 have whipped the world ! Nu! why should I find an\- thing 
 to content me here? I never conquered anybody; but I 
 have to take off my boots myself, and, what is worse, put 
 them out myself in the corridor. In the morning I get up, 
 and have to dress myself, and go down to the dining-room, 
 and drink execrable tea. 'Tisn't like that at home. There 
 you can get up when you please : if you are out of sorts, 
 you can be out of sorts ; you have all the time you want, 
 and you can do whatever you please without hurrying." 
 
 " But time is money : don't forget that," said the colonel. 
 
 " That depends. There are whole months that you would 
 sell for fifty kopeks, and quarter-hours that you would not
 
 ANNA KAR&N1NA. 247 
 
 take any amount of money for. Isn't that so, Kateuka? 
 But why are 3-011 so solemn? " 
 
 " I am not, papa." 
 
 "Where are 3-011 going? Stay a little longer," said the 
 prince to Varenka. 
 
 " But I must go home," said Varenka, rising, and laugh- 
 ing gayly again. When she was calmed, she took leave of 
 her friends, and went to get her hat. 
 
 Kitty followed her. Even Varenka seemed to her friend 
 changed. She was not less good, but she was different from 
 what she had imagined her to be. 
 
 " Ach! it is a long time since I have laughed so much," 
 said Varenka, as she was getting her parasol and her satchel. 
 " How charming your papa is ! " 
 
 Kitty did not answer. 
 
 " When shall I see 3-011 again? " asked Varenka. 
 
 " Maman wanted to go to the Petrofs'. Will you be 
 there? " asked Kitt3 T , trying to read Varenka. 
 
 " I will be there," she replied. " They expect to go, and 
 I am going to help them pack." 
 
 "Nu! Then I will go with 3-011." 
 
 " No : why should you? " 
 
 "Why? why? why?" asked Kitt3 T , holding Varenka by 
 her sunshade, and opening her C3 7 es very wide. "Wait a 
 moment, and tell me why." 
 
 " "Why? ' Because your papa has come, and because they 
 are vexed at you." 
 
 " No : tell me honestly why you don't like to have me go 
 to the Petrofs'. You don't like it : wl^ is it? " 
 
 " I didn't sa3 r so," replied Varenka calmly. 
 
 " I beg you to tell me." 
 
 " Must I tell you all?" 
 
 "All, all," replied Kitty. 
 
 "Da! At bottom there is nothing very serious: only 
 Mikhai'1 Aleksyevitch that was Petrofs name was will- 
 ing to leave at any time, and now he does not want to go," 
 replied Varenka, smiling. 
 
 " Nu! Nu!" cried Kitty, looking at Varenka with a 
 gloomy expression. 
 
 " Nu ! Anna Pavlovua imagines that he does not want to 
 go because you are here. Of course this was unfortunate ; 
 but you have been the cause of a family quarrel, and you 
 know how irritable these invalids are."
 
 248 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 Kitty grew still more melancholy, and kept silent : and 
 Varenka went on speaking, trying to pacify her, and 
 put things in a better light, though she foresaw that the 
 result would be either tears or reproaches ; she knew 
 not which. 
 
 "So it is better not to go there, you see ; and you will 
 not be angry " 
 
 "But I deserved it, I deserved it," said Kitty, speaking 
 rapidly, and still holding Varenka's parasol, and not looking 
 at her. 
 
 Varenka was amused at her friend's childish anger, but 
 she was afraid of offending her. 
 
 " How deserve it? I don't understand ! " 
 
 " I deserve it because this was all pretence, it was all 
 hypocrisy, and because it did not come from the heart. 
 What business had 1 to meddle with the affairs of a stranger? 
 And so I have been the cause of a quarrel, and simply be- 
 cause it was all hypocrisy, hypocrisy," said she, mechani- 
 cally opening and shutting the sunshade. 
 
 "But why do you call it hypocrisy?" asked Varenka 
 gently. 
 
 "Ach! How stupid, how wretched ! It was none of my 
 business. Hypocrisy ! hypocrisy ! " 
 
 " But why hypocrisy? " 
 
 " Because I did it to seem better to others, to myself, to 
 God, to deceive everybody. No, I will not fall so low 
 again. I would rather be wicked, and not lie, and not 
 deceive. 
 
 " Da! But who is a liar? " asked Varenka, in a reproach- 
 ful tone. " You speak as if " 
 
 But Kitty was thoroughly angry, and did not let her 
 finish. 
 
 " I was not speaking of you, not of you at all. You are 
 perfection. Yes, yes : I know that you are all perfection. 
 What can be done? I am wicked: this would not have 
 occurred, if I had not been wicked. So much the worse. I 
 will be what I am, and I will not be deceitful. What have 
 I to do with Anna Pavlovna? Let them live as they want to, 
 and I will do the same. I can't be somebody else. Besides, 
 it is not that at all " 
 
 " Da! What isn't ' that ' ? " asked Varenka, in astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " Every thing ! I can only live by my heart, but you live
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 249 
 
 by your principles. I like you all ; but you have had in view 
 only to save me, to convert me." 
 
 " You are not fair," said Varenka. 
 
 " Da! I am not speaking about the rest of you. I only 
 speak for myself." 
 
 " Kitty ! " cried her mother's voice, " come here, and show 
 papa your corals." 
 
 Kitty took the box with the corals from the table, carried 
 it to her mother with a dignified air, but she did not become 
 reconciled with her friend. 
 
 "What is the matter? why are you so red? " asked her 
 father and mother with one voice. 
 
 "Nothing: I am coining right back;" and she hurried 
 to the house. 
 
 " She is still there," she thought: " what shall I tell her? 
 Bozlie mo'i ! what have I done ? what have I said ? Why did 
 I hurt her feelings? What have I done? what did I say to 
 her? " she asked herself as she hurried to the door. 
 
 Varenka, with her hat on, was sitting by the table, exam- 
 ining the remains of her parasol, which Kitty had broken. 
 She raised her head. 
 
 " Vareuka, forgive me," whispered Kitty, coming up to 
 her. " I did not know what I was saying. I " 
 
 " Truly, I did not mean to cause you pain," said Varenka, 
 smiling. 
 
 Peace was made. But her father's coming had changed 
 for Kitty the world in which she lived. Without giving up 
 what she had learned, she confessed that she had been under 
 an illusion by believing that she was what she had dreamed 
 of being. It was like a dream. She found that she could 
 not, without hypocrisy, stay on such an elevation : she felt, 
 moreover, still more vividly, the weight of the misfortunes, 
 the ills, the agonies, of those who surrounded her, and she 
 felt that it was cruel to prolong the efforts which she had 
 made to interest herself in them. She began to long to 
 breathe the purer, healthier atmosphere of Russia at Yer- 
 gushovo, where Dolly and the children had preceded her, as 
 she learned from a letter that had just come. 
 
 But her love for Varenka had not diminished. When she 
 went away, she begged her to come and visit them in Russia. 
 
 " I will come when you are married," said she. 
 
 " I shall never marry." 
 
 " Nu! then I shall never come."
 
 250 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 
 
 " Nu I In that case, I shall get married only for your sake. 
 Don't forget your promise," said Kitty. 
 
 The doctor's prophecies were realized. Kitty came home to 
 Russia perfectly well : possibly she was not as gay and care- 
 less as before, but her calmness was restored. The pains of 
 the past were only a memory.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 251 
 
 PART III. 
 I. 
 
 SERGEI IVANOVITCH KOZNUISHEF liked to rest after his in- 
 tellectual labors : and instead of going abroad, as usual, he 
 came, towards the end of May, to visit his brother in the 
 country. In his opinion, country life was the best of all, and 
 he came now to enjoy it at Pokrovsky. Konstantin Levin 
 was very glad to welcome him, the more because he did not 
 expect his brother Nikolai' this summer. But in spite of his 
 love and respect for Sergei Ivanovitch, Konstantin was not 
 altogether at his ease with him in the country. It was ex- 
 asperating and unpleasant for him to see his brother's be- 
 havior. For Konstantin the country was the place for 
 life, for pleasures, sorrows, labor. For Sergei Ivano- 
 vitch the country, on the contrary, offered rest from labor, 
 and a profitable antidote against the corruption which he 
 found in the pleasures and acquaintances of his life. For 
 Konstautin Levin the country was the more beautiful because 
 it offered an end for works of incontestable utility. For 
 Sergei Ivanovitch the country was vastly more delightful 
 because he could not, and need not, do any thing at all. 
 Their wa}-s of looking at the peasantry were likewise ex- 
 actly diametrically opposite to each other. Sergei Ivano- 
 vitch said that he loved and knew the people ; and he will- 
 ingly talked with the muzhiks, and discovered, in his inter- 
 views with them, traits of character honorable to the people, 
 so that he felt convinced that he knew them thoroughly. 
 Such superficial views vexed Konstantin Levin. For him 
 the peasantry was only the chief factor in associated labor ; 
 and though he respected the muzhik, and, as he himself said, 
 drew in with the milk of the woman who nursed him a gen- 
 uine love for them, still their vices exasperated him as often 
 as their virtues struck him. For him the people represented
 
 252 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 the principal partner in a labor association, and, as such, he 
 saw no need of making a distinction between the qualities, 
 the faults, and the interests of this associate and those of 
 the rest of men. He lived among them, and he knew them 
 thoroughly : he was their landlord, their mediator, and, what 
 was more, their adviser ; for the muzhiks had faith in him, 
 and came to him from forty versts around to ask his opinions. 
 But to say that he knew the peasantry, would have meant, in 
 his opinion, the same as to say, that he knew people. 
 
 In the discussions which arose between the brothers in 
 consequence of their divergence of views, the victory always 
 remained with Sergei Ivanovitch, because his opinions, formed 
 by his methodical studies, remained unshaken ; while Kon- 
 stantin, ceaselessly modifying his, was easily convicted of 
 contradicting himself. Sergei Ivanovitch looked upon his 
 brother as an excellent fellow, whose heart was bien plac6, 
 as he expressed it in French, but whose mind, though quick 
 and active, was full of non sequiturs. Often, with the con- 
 descension of an elder brother, he tried to make him see the 
 real meaning of things ; but he could not take genuine pleas- 
 ure in discussing with him, because his opponent was so easy 
 to vanquish. 
 
 Konstautin Levin, on his side, looked upon his brother as 
 a man of vast intelligence and learning, endowed with ex- 
 traordiuaiy faculties, most advantageous to the community 
 at large ; but as he advanced in life, and learned to know 
 him better, he sometimes asked himself, in the secret cham- 
 bers of his heart, if this devotion to the general interests, 
 which he himself seemed to lack, was really a good quality, 
 or rather a vice ; not through the powerlessness of good-na- 
 tured, upright, benevolent wishes and motives, but the pow- 
 erlessness of a strong man pushing his own way through the 
 multitudes of paths which life offers to men, and resolved 
 at all odds to delight in this, and to follow it alone. 
 
 Levin felt also another sort of constraint in his relations 
 with his brother when he was spending the summer with 
 him. The days seemed to him too short for him to accom- 
 plish all that he wanted to do and to superintend, while his 
 brother cared to do nothing but take his ease. Though Ser- 
 ge"i Ivanovitch was not writing, his mind was too active for 
 him not to need some one to whom he might express in logi- 
 cal and elegant form the ideas which occupied him. Kon- 
 stautin was his habitual and favorite auditor.
 
 ANNA K Alt NINA. 253 
 
 It was his favorite habit to lie lazily on the grass, stretched 
 out at full length in the sun, and to talk. 
 
 "You can't imagine," he would say, "how I enjoy this 
 idleness. I have not an idea in my head : it is empty as a 
 shell." 
 
 But Konstantin quickly wearied of sitting down and talk- 
 ing about trifles. He knew that in his absence they were 
 spreading the manure on the wrong fields, and were up to 
 God knows what mischief, and he felt anxious to be super- 
 intending this work : he knew that they would be taking off 
 the irons from his English ploughs, so as to be able to say 
 that they were not as good as the primitive arrangements still 
 used by his neighbor So-and-so. 
 
 " Don't you ever get weary trotting about so in this 
 heat?" asked Sergei Ivanovitch. 
 
 " No. Excuse me for a minute : I must run over to the 
 office," said Levin ; and he hurried across the field. 
 
 II. 
 
 EARLY in June, Agafya Mikhailovna, the old nurse and 
 ekonomka [housekeeper], in going down cellar with a pot 
 of pickled mushrooms, slipped on the staircase, and dislo- 
 cated her wrist. The district doctor, a loquacious young 
 medical student who had just taken his degree, came and 
 examined the arm, declared that it was not out of joint, and 
 applied compresses : and during dinner, proud of finding him- 
 self in the society of the distinguished Koznuishef, he began 
 to relate all the petty gossip of the neighborhood ; and, in 
 order that he might have occasion to introduce his enlight- 
 ened ideas, he began to complain of the bad state of things 
 in general. 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch listened attentively. Animated by the 
 presence of a new hearer, he talked, and made keen and 
 shrewd observations, which were received by the young phy- 
 sician with respectful appreciation. After his departure 
 Koznuishef was left in that rather over-excited frame of 
 mind which, as his brother knew, was liable in his case to 
 follow a lively and brilliant conversation. Immediately after, 
 he took a fish-line and went to the river. He was very fond 
 of fishing : he seemed to take a little pride in allowing that 
 he could amuse himself with such a puerile amusement.
 
 254 ANNA K All t NINA. 
 
 Konstantin was intending to make a tour of inspection across 
 the fields, and he offered to take his brother in his gig as far 
 as the river. 
 
 It was the time of the year when, the summer having suffi- 
 ciently gone, the amount of the crops can be judged, and the 
 thoughts of the coming summer begin to take root. The ears 
 of corn, now full and still green, swing lightly in the breeze ; 
 the oats peep irregularly from the late-sown fields ; the wheat 
 already is up, and hides the soil ; the odor of the manure, 
 heaped in little hillocks over the fields, mingles with the per- 
 fume of the herbs, which, scattered with little bunches of 
 wild sorrel, stretch out like a sea. This period of the sum- 
 mer is the lull before the harvest, that great event which the 
 muzJiik expects each year with eagerness. The crops prom- 
 ised to be superb ; and long, bright days were followed by 
 short nights, when the dew lay heavy on the grass. 
 
 To reach the fields, it was necessary to cross the woodland. 
 Sergei Ivanovitch liked this dense forest. He pointed out 
 to his brother, as they rode along, an old linden almost in 
 flower; but Konstantin, who did not himself care to speak 
 about the beauties of nature, did not care to have others 
 speak of them. Words, he thought, spoiled the beauty of 
 the thing that tbey saw. He assented to what his brother 
 said, but allowed his mind to concern itself with other things. 
 After they left the wood, his attention was drawn to a fallow 
 field, where some places were growing yellow, where iu others 
 the crop was being gathered and garnered. The teh/eyas were 
 thronging up toward the field. Levin counted them, and 
 was satisfied with the work which was going on. His 
 thoughts were diverted, by the sight of the fields, to the seri- 
 ous question of fertilizers, which he always had particularly 
 at heart. He stopped his horse when they reached the 
 meadow. The high, thick grass was still damp with dew. 
 Sergei Ivanovitch begged his brother, in order that he might 
 not wet his feet, to drive him as far as a clump of laburnums 
 near which perch were to be caught. Though he disliked 
 to trample down his grass, he drove over through the field. 
 The tall grass clung round the horse's legs, and the seed was 
 dusted on the wheels of the little gig. 
 
 * Sergei sat down under the laburnums, and cast his line. 
 Though he caught nothing, he was undisturbed in spirits, and 
 the time that his brother was away conversing with Famitch 
 and the other workmen did not seem irksome to hiui. When
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 255 
 
 his brother returned, anxious to get back to the house to give 
 some orders, Serg6i was sitting calmly looking at the water 
 and the sky and the fields. 
 
 "These fields," he said, "are heavenly. They always 
 remind me of an enigma, do you know? ' The grass says to 
 the river ' ' 
 
 " I don't know any such riddle," interrupted Koustantin 
 in a melancholy tone. 
 
 III. 
 
 " Do you know, I was thinking about you," said Sergei 
 Ivanovitch. "It is not well at all, what is going on in your 
 district, if that doctor tells the truth : he is not a stupid fel- 
 low. And I have told you all along, and I say to-day, you 
 are wrong in not going to the assembly meetings, to know 
 what they are doing. If men of standing don't take an in- 
 terest in affairs, God knows how things will turn out. The 
 taxes we pay will be spent in salaries, and n6"t for schools, 
 or hospitals, or midwives, or pharmacies, or any thing." 
 
 " But I have tried it," replied Levin faintly and unwill- 
 ingly. "I can't do any thing. What is to be done about 
 it?" 
 
 " Da ! why can't you do any thing? I confess I don't un- 
 derstand it. I cannot admit that it is incapacity or lack of 
 intelligence : isn't it simply laziness? " 
 
 "It is not that, or the first or the second. I have tried it, 
 and I am sure that I cannot do any thing." 
 
 Levin was not paying great heed to what his brother said, 
 but was looking intently across the fields on the other side of 
 the river. He saw something black, but he could not make 
 out whether it was only a horse, or his prikashcliik on horse- 
 back. 
 
 " Why can't you do any thing? You make an experiment, 
 and it does not turn out to 3'our satisfaction, and you give 
 up. Why not have a little pride about you? " 
 
 "Pride ? " said Levin, touched to the quick by his brother's 
 reproach. " I don't see what that has to do with it. If at 
 the university they had told me that others understood the 
 integral calculus, but I did not, that would have touched my 
 pride ; but here I have first to believe in the value of these 
 new institutions." 
 
 " What ! do you mean to say that they are not valuable? "
 
 256 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 
 
 asked Sergei Ivanovitch, piqued because his brother seemed 
 to attach so little importance to his words, and gave him 
 such poor attention. 
 
 ' It seems to me that they are useless, and I cannot feel 
 interested in what yen wish me to do," replied Levin, who 
 now saw that the black speck was the prikashchik< and that 
 the prikashchik was probably taking some muzhiks from their 
 work. They were carrying home the ploughs. " Can they 
 have finished ploughing?" he asked himself. 
 
 " Nu, listen ! one thing," said his brother, his handsome, 
 intellectual face growing a shade darker. " There are limits 
 to every thing. It is very fine to be an original and out- 
 spoken man, and to hate falsehood, all that I know; but 
 the fact is, that what you say has no sense at all, or has a 
 very bad sense. Do 3 - ou really think it idle that these peo- 
 ple, whom you love, as you assert " 
 
 "I never asserted any such thing," replied Konstantin 
 Levin. 
 
 "That these people should perish without aid? Coarse 
 babki [peasant-women] act as midwives, and the people re- 
 main in ignorance, and are at the mercy of every letter- 
 writer. But it is within your power to remedy all this ; and 
 you don't assist them, because, in your eyes, it is not worth 
 while." 
 
 And Sergei Ivanovitch offered him the following dilem- 
 ma : 
 
 " Either 3*ou are not developed sufficiently to do all that 
 you might do, or you do not care to give up your love of 
 idleness, or your vanity : I don't know which." 
 
 Konstantin Levin felt, that, if he did not wish to be con- 
 victed of indifference for the public weal, he would have 
 to make a defence ; and this was vexatious and offensive to 
 him. 
 
 " That is another thing," he said testily. " I do not see 
 how it is possible ' ' 
 
 " What! impossible to give medical aid if the funds were 
 watched more closely ? ' ' 
 
 ' fc Impossible it seems to me. In the four thousand square 
 versts of our district, with'our floods, snow-storms, and busy 
 seasons, I don't see the possibility of giving public medical 
 aid. Besides, I don't much believe in medicine, anyway" 
 
 " Nu! nonsense! you are unjust. I could name you a 
 thousand cases aud schools."
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 257 
 
 "Why schools?" 
 
 "What do you say? Can you doubt the advantages of 
 education ? If it is good for you, why not for others? " 
 
 Konstantiu Levin felt that he was pushed to the wall ; and, 
 in his irritation, against his will he revealed his real reason 
 for his indifference. 
 
 " Maybe it is a good thing ; but why should I put myself 
 out, have medical dispensaries located which I never 
 make use of, or schools where I should never send my chil- 
 dren, and where the peasants won't send their children, and 
 where I am not sure that it is wise to send them, anyway?" 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch for a moment was disconcerted b}- this 
 sally ; and, while carefully pulling his line from the water, 
 he developed another line of attack. 
 
 " Nu! that is absurd," said he with a smile. "In the 
 first place, the dispensary is necessary. Vot! we ourselves 
 sent for the zemski doktor for Agafya Mikhai'lovna." 
 
 " Nu! I believe that her wrist was out of joint, in spite 
 of what he said." 
 
 " That remains to be proved. In the next place, the 
 iniizldk who can read is a better workman, and more useful 
 to you." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " replied Konstantin Levin bluntly. "Ask any 
 one you please, they will tell you that the educated muzhik 
 is less valuable as a laborer. He will not repair the roads ; 
 and, when they build bridges, he will only steal the planks." 
 
 " Now, this is not the point," said SergeM, vexed, because 
 he detested contradiction, and this way of leaping from one 
 subject to another, and bringing up arguments without any 
 apparent connection. " The question is this : Do you admit 
 that education is good for the peasantry? " 
 
 " I do," said Levin, without realizing that he was not 
 speaking the thought in his mind. Instantly he perceived, 
 that, by making this admission, it would be easy to convict 
 him of speaking nonsense. How it would be brought up 
 against him he did not know ; but he knew that he would 
 surely be shown his logical inconsequence, and he awaited the 
 demonstration. It came much sooner than he expected. 
 
 "If you admit its value," said Sergei, "then, as an 
 honest man, you cannot refuse to delight in this work, and 
 give it your hearty co-operation." 
 
 " But I still do not admit that it is good," said Konstantin 
 Levin, in confusion.
 
 258 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 4 ' What ? But you just said ' ' 
 
 " That is, I don't say that it is bad, but that it is not ad- 
 visable." 
 
 " But you can't know this, since you have not made any 
 effort to try it." 
 
 " Nu! I admit that the education of the people is advanta- 
 geous," said Konstantin, but without the least conviction, 
 "but I don't see why I should bother myself with it." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Nu ! if we are going to discuss the question, then explain 
 it to me from your philosophical point of view." 
 
 " I don't see what philosophy has to do here," retorted 
 Sergei Ivanovitch in a tone which seemed to cast some 
 doubt on his brother's right to discuss philosophy ; and this 
 nettled him. 
 
 " That is why," said he warmly, " I think that the motive- 
 power in all our actions is forever personal interest. Now, 
 I see nothing in our provincial institutions that contributes 
 to my well-being. The roads are not better, and cannot be 
 made so. My horses carry me, even on bad roads. The 
 doctor and the dispensary are no use to me. The justice 
 of the peace does me no good : I never went to him, and 
 never expect to. The schools seem to me not only useless, 
 but, as I have said, are even harmful ; and these provincial 
 institutions oblige me to pay eighteen kopeks a desyutin, to 
 go to the city, to be eaten by bugs, and to hear all sorts of 
 vulgar and obscene talk, and yet do not in any way affect my 
 personal interests." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Sergei Ivanovitch with a smile. " Our 
 personal interests did not compel us to work for the emanci- 
 pation of the serfs, and yet we accomplished it." 
 
 " No," replied Konstantin with still more animation : " the 
 emancipation was quite another affair. It was for personal 
 interest. We wanted to shake off this }-oke that hung upon 
 the necks of all of us decent people. But to be a member of 
 the town council ; to discuss what only concerns smiths, and 
 how to lay sewer-pipes in streets where one does not live ; 
 to be a juryman, and sit in judgment on a muzhik who 
 has stolen a ham ; to listen for six hours to all sorts of rub- 
 bish which the defendant and the prosecutor may utter, and, 
 as presiding officer, to ask my old friend, the half-idiotic 
 Aloshka, ' Do you plead guilty, Mr. Accused, of having 
 stolen this ham ? ' "
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 259 
 
 And Konstantin, carried away by his subject, enacted the 
 scene between the president and the half-idiotic Aloshka. 
 It seemed to him that this was in the line of the argument. 
 
 But Sergei Ivauovitch shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ' ' Nu ! what do you mean by this ? ' ' 
 
 " I only mean that I will always defend with all my powers 
 those rights which touch me, my interests; that when 
 the policemen came to search us students, and read our let- 
 ters, I was ready to defend these rights with all my might, 
 to defend my rights to instruction, to liberty. I am inter- 
 ested in the required service which concerns the fate of my 
 children, of my brothers, and of myself. I am willing to 
 discuss this because it touches me ; but to deliberate on the 
 employment of forty thousand rubles of district money, or 
 to judge the crack-brained Aloshka, I won't do it, and I 
 can't." 
 
 Konstantin Levin discoursed as though the fountains of his 
 speech were unloosed. His brother was quietly amused. 
 
 " Supposing to-morrow you were arrested : would you pre- 
 fer to be tried by the old ' criminal court ' ? " 
 
 " But I shall not be arrested. I am not a murderer, and 
 this is no use to me. Nu, uzh! " he continued, again jump- 
 ing to a matter entirely foreign to their subject, " our pro- 
 vincial institutions, and all that, remind me of the little twigs 
 which on Trinity day we stick into the ground, to imitate a 
 forest. The forest has grown of itself in Europe ; but I can- 
 not on my soul, have any faith in our birch sprouts, or water 
 them." 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch only shrugged his shoulders again, as a 
 sign of astonishment that birch twigs should be mingled in 
 their discussion, although he understood perfectly what his 
 brother meant. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said he. " That is no way to reason." 
 
 But Konstantin, in order to explain his self-confessed lack 
 of interest in matters of public concern, continued, 
 
 " I think that there can be no durable activity if it is not 
 founded in individual interest : this is a general, a philo- 
 sophical truth," said he, laying special emphasis on the word 
 " philosophical," as though he wished to show that he also 
 had the right, as well as any one else, to speak of philosophy. 
 
 Again Sergei Ivanovitch smiled. '" He also," thought he, 
 " has his owu special philosophy for the benefit of his incli- 
 nations."
 
 260 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 " Nu! be quit of philosophy," he said. "Its chief aim 
 has been in all times to grasp the indispensable bond which 
 exists between the individual and the public interest. But 
 I think I can make your comparison valid. The little birch 
 twigs have not been merely stuck in, but have been sowed, 
 planted, and it is necessary to watch them carefulh'. The 
 only nations which can have a future, the only nations 
 which deserve the name of historic, are those which feel 
 the importance and the value of their institutions, and prize 
 them." 
 
 And Sergei Ivanovitch, the better to show his brother what 
 a mistake he had made, began to discuss the question from 
 an historico-philosophical point of view, which Konstantin 
 was by no means able to appreciate. 
 
 " As to your distaste for affairs, excuse me if I refer it 
 to our Russian indolence and gentility [barstvo, Russian 
 rank] ; and I trust that this temporary error will pass 
 away." 
 
 Konstantin was silent. He felt himself routed on every 
 side, but he felt also that his brother had not understood 
 what he wished to say. He did not know exactly whether 
 it was because he did not know how to express himself 
 clearly, or because his brother did not wish to understand 
 him, or whether he could not understand him. He did not 
 try to fathom this question ; but, without replying to his 
 brother, he became absorbed in entirely different thoughts, 
 connected with his own work. Sergei Ivanovitch reeled in 
 his lines, unhitched the horse, and they drove away. 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE thought which absorbed Levin at the time of his dis- 
 cussion with his brother was this : the year before, he had 
 fallen into a passion with his overseer one day when they 
 were mowing, and to calm himself he had taken the scythe 
 from a muzhik, and begun to mow. He enjoyed the work 
 so much that he had tried it again and again. He mowed 
 the lawn in front of his house, and promised himself that 
 the next year he would follow the same plan, and spend 
 whole days mowing with the muzhiks. 
 
 Since his brother's arrival he had asked himself the ques- 
 tion, Should he mow, or not? He had scruples about leav-
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 261 
 
 ing his brother alone for an entire day, and he was afraid 
 of his pleasantries on the subject. But as they crossed the 
 field, and saw the mowing already begun, he decided that 
 he would mow. After his vexatious discussion with his 
 brother, he remembered his project. 
 
 " I must have some physical exercise, or my character will 
 absolutely spoil," he thought, and made up his mind to mow, 
 no matter what his brother or his servants should say. 
 
 That very evening Levin went to the office, gave some 
 directions about the work to be done, and sent to the village 
 to hire some mowers for the morrow, so as to attack his field 
 at Kaliuovo, which was the largest and best. 
 
 "Da! send my scythe over to Sef, and have him put it 
 in order ; perhaps I will come and mow too," said he, trying 
 to hide his confusion. 
 
 The prika*hchik laughed, and said, " I will obey you." 
 
 Later, at the tea-table, Levin said to his brother, " It seems 
 like settled weather. To-morrow I am going to mow." 
 
 " I like to see this work," said Sergei Ivanovitch. 
 
 " I like it extremely," said Levin. "Last year I myself 
 mowed with the muzhiks, and to-morrow I am going to spend 
 all day at it." 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch raised his head, and gazed with aston- 
 ishment at his brother. 
 
 " What did you say? Like the muzhiks, all day long?" 
 
 " Certainty : it is very enjoyable." 
 
 "It is excellent as physical exercise, but can you stand 
 such work?" asked Sergei, without meaning to say any 
 thing ironical. 
 
 " I have tried it. At first it is hard work, but afterwards 
 you get used to it. I think I shall not leave off " 
 
 " Vot kak! but tell me, how do the muzhiks look at it? 
 Naturally they make sport because the barin is queer, don't 
 they?" 
 
 "No, I don't think so; but this is such pleasant and at 
 the same time hard work, that they don't think about it." 
 
 " But how do you do about your dinner? They could 
 hardly bi'ing you there a bottle of Lafitte and a roast 
 turkey." 
 
 ; No : I come home while the workmen have their noon- 
 ing." 
 
 The next morning Konstantin Levin got up earlier than 
 usual ; but his duties about the house detained him, and when
 
 262 ANNA KAE&NINA. 
 
 he came to the mowing-field he found the men already at 
 work. 
 
 The field, still in the shade, extended to the foot of a high 
 hill, and a part was already mowed ; and Levin, as he drew 
 near, could see the long wind-rows, and the little black heaps 
 of kaftans thrown down by the men when they went by the 
 first time. He saw also the band of muzhiks, some in their 
 kaftans, some in their shirt-sleeves, moving in a long line, 
 and swinging their scythes in unison. He counted forty-two 
 men of them. They were advancing slowly over the uneven 
 bottom-land of the field, where there was an old ditch. 
 Many of them Levin knew. The old round-shouldered 
 Yermil was there in a very clean white shirt, wielding the 
 scythe; there was the young small Vaska, who used to be 
 Levin's driver ; there was Sef, a little thin old muzhitchok, 
 who had taught him how to mow. He was cutting a wide 
 swath without stooping, and easily handling his scythe. 
 
 Levin dismounted from his horse, tied her near the road, 
 and went across to Sef, who immediately got a second scythe 
 from a clump of bushes. 
 
 " All ready, barin; 'tis like a razor, cuts of itself," said 
 Sef with a smile, taking off his shapka, and handing him the 
 scythe. 
 
 Levin took it, and began to try it. The haymakers, having 
 finished their line, were returning one after the other on their 
 track, covered with sweat, but gay and lively. They all 
 stopped, and saluted the barin. No one ventured to speak ; 
 but at last a wrinkled old man, without a beard, and dressed 
 in a sheepskin jacket, thus addressed him : 
 
 " Look here, barin, if you put your hand to the work, 
 you must not quit it," said he ; and Levin heard the sound 
 of stifled laughter among the workmen. 
 
 " I will try not to be left behind," he said as he took his 
 place behind Sef, and waited for the signal to begin. 
 
 " 'Tention ! " cried the starik. 
 
 Sef made the way, and Levin followed in his steps. The 
 grass was short and tough ; and Levin, who had not mowed 
 in a long time, and was constrained by the watchful eyes of 
 the men, at first made very bad work of it, though he swung 
 the scythe energetically. Voices were heard behind him : 
 
 " He does not hold his scythe right : the sned is too high. 
 See how he stoops," said one. 
 
 " Bears his hand on too much," said another.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 263 
 
 ' ' It won 't do at all : it's not well, ' ' said the starik. ' ' Look, 
 he goes like this ; swings too wide. He'll get played ont. 
 The master is trying it for himself as hard as he can, but 
 look at his row ! For such work my brother was beaten 
 once." 
 
 The grass became less tough ; and Levin, listening to the 
 remarks without replying, and doing his best to learn, fol- 
 lowed in Sef's footsteps. Thus they went a hundred steps. 
 Sef kept on without any intermission, and without showing 
 the least fatigue ; but Levin began to fear that he could not 
 keep it up, he was so tired. 
 
 He was just thinking that he should have to ask Sef to rest, 
 when the muzhik of his own accord halted, bent over, and, 
 taking a handful of grass, began to wipe his scythe, and to 
 turn around. Levin straightened himself up, and with a sigh 
 of relief looked about him. Just behind was a peasant, and 
 he was evidently tired and had also' stopped. Sef whetted his 
 own scythe and Levin's, and started again. 
 
 At the second attempt it was just the same. Sef ad- 
 vanced a step at every swing of the scythe. Levin followed 
 him, striving not to fall behind ; but each moment it came 
 harder and harder. But, as before, just as he believed him- 
 self at the end of his forces, Sef stopped and rested. 
 
 Thus they went over the first swath. And this long stretch 
 was very hard for Levin ; but afterwards, when the work began 
 again, Levin had no other thought, no other desire, than to 
 reach the other end as soon as the others. He heard nothing 
 but the swish of the scythes behind him, saw nothing but 
 Sef's straight back plodding on in front of him, and the 
 semicircle described in the grass, which fell over slowly, 
 carrying with it the delicate heads of flowers. 
 
 Suddenly he felt a pleasant sensation of coolness on his 
 shoulders. He looked up at the sky while Sef was plying the 
 whetstone, and he saw a heavy black cloud. A shower had 
 come, and a heavy rain was falling. Some of the muzhiks 
 were putting on their kaftans: others, like Levin himself, 
 were glad to feel the rain upon their shoulders. 
 
 The work went on and on. Levin absolutely lost all idea 
 of time, and did not know whether it was early or late. Though 
 the sweat stood on his face, and dropped from his nose, and 
 all his back was wet as though he had been plunged in water, 
 still he felt very good. His work now seemed to him full of 
 pleasure. It was a state of unconsciousness : he did not know
 
 264 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 what he was doing, or how much he was doing, or how the 
 hours and moments were flying, but only felt that at this time 
 his work was good, and equal to that done by Sef. 
 
 After they had gone over the field one more time, he 
 started to turn back again ; but Sef halted, and, going to the 
 stank, whispered something to him. Then the two studied 
 the sun. " What are they talking about? and why don't they 
 keep on?" thought Levin, without considering that the 
 muzhiks had been mowing for more than four hours, and it 
 was time for them to eat their lunch. 
 
 " Breakfast, barin," said the starik. 
 
 " So late already? Nu! breakfast, then." 
 
 Levin gave his scythe to Sef, and together with the muzhiks, 
 who were going to their kaftans for their bread, he crossed 
 the wide stretch of field, where the mown grass lay lightly 
 moistened by the shower, and went to his horse. Then only 
 he perceived that he had made a false prediction about the 
 weather, and that the rain would wet his hay. 
 
 " The hay will be spoiled," he said. 
 
 "No harm done, barin: mow in the rain, rake in the 
 sun," said the storik. 
 
 Levin unhitched his horse and went home to take coffee 
 with his brother. Sergei Ivanovitch had just got up ; before 
 he was dressed and down in the dining-room, Konstantiu was 
 back to the field again. 
 
 V. 
 
 AFTER breakfast, Levin, in returning to his work, took his 
 place between the quizzical starik, who asked him to be his 
 neighbor, and a young muzhik who had only lately been 
 manied, and was now mowing for the first time. The starik 
 mowed straight on, with long, regular strides ; and the swing- 
 ing of the scythe seemed no more like labor than the swinging 
 of arms when walking. His well-whetted scythe cut, as it 
 were, of its own energy through the succulent grass. 
 
 Behind Levin came the young Mishka. His pleasant, 
 youthful face under a wreath of green leaves, which bound 
 his curls, worked with the energy that employed the rest of 
 his body. But when any one looked at him, he would 
 smile. He would rather die than confess that he found the 
 labor hard. 
 
 The labor seemed lighter to Levin during the heat of the
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 265 
 
 day. The sweat in which he was bathed refreshed him ; and 
 the sun, burning his back, his head, and his arms bared to 
 the elbow, gave him force and energy. The moments of 
 oblivion, of unconsciousness of what he was doing, came 
 back to him more and more frequently : the scythe seemed 
 to go of itself. These were happy moments. Then, still 
 more gladsome were the moments when, coming to the river- 
 side, the starik, wiping his scythe with the moist, thick grass, 
 rinsed the steel in the river, then, dipping up a ladleful of 
 the water, gave it to Levin. 
 
 " Nu-ka. my kvas! Ah, good !" he exclaimed, winking. 
 
 And, indeed, it seemed to Levin that he had never tasted 
 iiny liquor more refreshing than this pure, lukewarm water, 
 in which grass floated, and tasting of the rusty tin cup. 
 Then came the glorious slow promenade, when, with scythe 
 on the arm, there was time to wipe the heated brow, fill the 
 lungs full, and glance round at the long line of hay-makers, 
 and the busy life in field and forest. 
 
 The longer Levin mowed, the more frequently he felt the 
 moments of oblivion, when his hands did not wield the 
 scythe, but the scythe seemed to have a self-conscious body, 
 full of life, and carrying on, as it were by enchantment, a 
 regular and systematic work. These were indeed joyful 
 moments. It was hard only when he was obliged to inter- 
 rupt this unconscious activity to remove a clod or a clump 
 of wild sorrel. The starik found it mere sport. When he 
 came to a clod, he pushed it aside with repeated taps of his 
 scythe, or with his hand tossed it out of the way. And 
 while doing this he noticed every thing and examined every 
 thing that was to be seen. Now he picked a strawberry, and 
 ate it himself or gave it to Levin ; now he discovered a nest 
 of quail from which the cock was scurrying away, or caught 
 a snake on the end of his scythe, and, having shown it to 
 Levin, flung it out of the way. 
 
 But for Levin and the young fellow behind him these 
 repeated observations were difficult. When once they got 
 into the swing of work, they could not easily change their 
 movements, and turn their attention to what was before them. 
 
 Levin did not realize how the time was flying. If he had 
 been asked how long he had been mowing, he would have 
 answered, " A quarter of an hour ; " and here it was almost 
 dinner-time. The starik drew his attention to the girls and 
 boys, half concealed by the tall grass, who were coming from
 
 266 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 
 
 all sides, bringing to the hay-makers their bread and jugs of 
 /eyas, which seemed too heavy for their little arms. 
 
 "See! here come the midgets" [kozyavki, lady bugs], 
 said he, pointing to them ; and, shading his eyes, he looked at 
 the sun. 
 
 Twice more they went across the field, and then the starik 
 stopped. 
 
 " Nu, barin! dinner," said he in a decided tone. 
 
 Then the mowers, walking along the river-side, went back 
 to their kaftans, where the children were waiting with the din- 
 ners. Some clustered around the telyegas; others sat in the 
 shade of a laburnum, where the mown grass was heaped up. 
 
 Levin sat down near them : he had no wish to leave them. 
 All constraint in the presence of the barin had disappeared. 
 The muzhiks prepared to take their dinner. They washed 
 themselves, took their bread, emptied their jugs of kvas, and 
 some found places to nap in, while the children went in 
 swimming. 
 
 The starik crumbed his bread into his porringer, mashed it 
 with his spoon, poured water on from his tin basin, and, cut- 
 ting off still more bread, he salted the whole plentifully ; and, 
 turning to the east, he said his prayer. Then he invited 
 Levin : 
 
 " Nu-ka, barin, my tiurki!" 1 said he, kneeling down 
 before his porringer. 
 
 Levin found the tiurkii so palatable that he decided not to 
 go home to dinner. He dined with the starik, and their con- 
 versation turned on his domestic affairs, in which the barin 
 took a lively interest, and in his turn told the old man about 
 such of his plans and projects as would interest him. He 
 felt as though the starik were more nearly related to him 
 than his brother, and he could not help smiling at the feeling 
 of sympathy which this simple-hearted man inspired. 
 
 When dinner was over, the starik offered another prayer, 
 and arranged a pillow of fresh-mown grass, and composed 
 himself for a nap. Levin did the same ; and, in spite of the 
 flies and insects tickling his heated face, he immediately 
 went off to sleep, and did not wake until the sun came out 
 on the other side of the laburnum bush, and shone brightly 
 above his head. The starik was awake, but was sitting 
 down cutting the children's hair. 
 
 1 Tiura, diminutive tiurka, a bread-crumb soaked in kvas, or beer. The starik 
 used water Instead of kvas.
 
 ANNA KAKfiNINA. 267 
 
 Levin looked around him, and did not know where he was. 
 Every thing seemed changed. The mown field stretched 
 away into immensity with its wind-rows of sweet-smelling hay, 
 lighted and glorified in a new fashion by the oblique rays of 
 the sun. The bushes had been cut down by the river: and 
 the river itself, before invisible, but now shining like steel 
 with its windings ; and the busy peasantry ; and the high wall 
 of grass, where the field was not yet mowed ; and the young 
 vultures flying high above the field, all this was absolutely 
 new to him. 
 
 Levin calculated what his workmen had done, and what 
 still remained to do. The work accomplished by the forty- 
 two men was considerable. The whole field, which in the 
 time of serfdom used to take thirty-two men two days, was 
 now almost mowed : only a few corners with short rows were 
 left. But he wanted to do still more : in his opinion, the sun 
 was sinking too early. He felt no fatigue : he only wanted 
 to do more rapid, and if possible better, work. 
 
 tk Do you think we shall get Mashkin Hill mowed to-day?" 
 he demanded of the starik. 
 
 " If God allows : the sun is still high. Will there be little 
 sips of vodka for the boys ? ' ' 
 
 At supper-time, when the men rested again, and some of 
 them were lighting their pipes, the starik announced to the 
 boys, " Mow Mashkin Hill extra vodka ! " 
 
 " Eka! Come on, Sef! Let's tackle it lively. We'll 
 eat after dark. Come on ! " cried several voices ; and, even 
 while still munching their bread, they got to work again. 
 
 " Nu ! Oh, keep up good hearts, boys! " said Sef, set- 
 ting off almost on the run. 
 
 "Come, come!" cried the starik, hastening after them. 
 " I am first. Look out ! " 
 
 Old and young took hold in rivalry ; and yet with all their 
 haste, they did not spoil their work, but the wind-rows lay in 
 neat and regular lines. 
 
 The triangle was finished in five minutes. The last mowers 
 had just finished their line, when the first, throwing their kaf- 
 tans over their shoulders, started down the road to the hill. 
 
 The sun was just going behind the forest, when, with rat- 
 tling cans, they came to the little wooded ravine of Mashkiu 
 Verkh. The grass here was as high as a man's waist, 
 tender, succulent, thick, and variegated with the flower 
 called Ivan-da- Marya.
 
 268 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 After a short parley, to decide whether to take it across, 
 or lengthwise, an experienced mower, Prokhor Yermilin, a 
 huge, black-bearded muzhik, went over it first. He took it 
 lengthwise, and came back in his track ; and then all fol- 
 lowed him, going along the hill above the hollow, and skirt- 
 ing the wood. The sun was setting. The dew was already 
 falling. Only the mowers on the ridge could see the sun ; 
 but down in the hollow, where the mist was beginning to rise, 
 and behind the slope, they went in fresh, dewy shade. The 
 work went on. The grass fell in high heaps : the mowers 
 came close together as the rows converged, rattling their 
 drinking-cups, sometimes hitting their scythes together, 
 working with joyful shouts, rallying each other. 
 
 Levin still kept his place between his two companions. 
 The starik, with sheepskin vest loosened, was gay, jocose, 
 free in his movements. 
 
 In the woods, mushrooms were found lurking under the 
 leaves. Instead of cutting them off with his scythe, as the 
 others did, he bent down whenever he saw one, and, picking 
 it. put it in his breast. " Still another little present for my 
 old woman." 
 
 The tender and soft grass was easy to mow, but it was 
 hard to climb and descend the steep sides of the ravine. 
 But the slarik did not let this appear. Always lightly swing- 
 ing his scythe, he climbed with short, firm steps, though he 
 trembled all over with the exercise. He let nothing escape 
 him, not an herb or a mushroom ; and he never ceased to 
 joke with Levin and the muzhiks. Levin behind him felt 
 that he would drop at every instant, and told himself that he 
 should never climb, scythe in hand, this steep hillside, where 
 even unencumbered it Avould be hard to go. But he perse- 
 vered all the same, and succeeded. He felt as though some 
 interior force sustained him. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THEY had finished mowing the Mashkin Verkh : the last 
 rows were done, and the men had taken their kaftans, and 
 were gaybj going home. Levin mounted his horse, and re- 
 gretfully took leave of his companions. On the hill-top he 
 turned round to take a last look ; but the evening's mist, 
 rising from the bottoms, hid them from sight ; but he could
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 269 
 
 hear their hearty, happy voices, as they laughed and talked, 
 and the sound of their clinking scythes. 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch had long done his dinner, and, sitting in 
 his room, was taking iced lemonade, and reading the papers 
 and reviews, which had just come from the post, when Levin, 
 with matted and disordered hair, and full of lively talk, 
 joined him. 
 
 "Well! we mowed the whole field. Ach! How good, 
 how delightful ! And how has the day passed with you ? ' ' 
 he asked, completely forgetting the unpleasant conversation 
 of the evening before. 
 
 " Bdt iusliki ! " exclaimed Serge"! Ivanovitch, looking at 
 first not over- pleasantly at his brother. "How you look! 
 Dal Shut the door, shut the door !" he cried. "You've 
 let in more than a dozen ! " 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch could not endure flies ; and he never 
 opened his bedroom windows before evening, and he made 
 it a point to keep his doors always shut. 
 
 " Indeed, not a one ! If you knew what a day I 've had ! 
 And how has it gone with you? " 
 
 " First rate. But you don't mean to say that you have 
 been mowing all day? You must be hungry as a wolf. 
 Kuzma has your dinner all ready for you." 
 
 " No : I am not hungry. I ate j'onder. But I'm going to 
 have a bath." 
 
 "jVu / go ahead, and I'll join you," said Sergei Ivanovitch, 
 lifting his head, and gazing at his brother. " Hurry up," 
 he said, arranging his papers, and getting ready to follow : 
 he also felt enlivened, and unwilling to be away from his 
 brother. " Nu ! but where were 3*011 during the shower?" 
 
 " What shower? Only a drop or two fell. I'll be right 
 back. And did the day go pleasantly with you? Nu! that's 
 capital ! " And Levin went to dress. 
 
 About five minutes afterwards the brothers met in the 
 dining-room. Levin imagined that he was not hungry, and 
 he sat down only so as not to hurt Kuzma's feelings ; but 
 when he once got to eating, he found it excellent. His 
 brother looked at him with a smile. 
 
 "Ach, da! there's a letter for you," he said. "Kuzma, 
 go and get it. Da! see that you shut the door." 
 
 The letter was from Oblonsky. Levin read it aloud. It 
 was dated from Petersburg : 
 
 "I have just heard from Dolly; she is at Yergushovo ;
 
 270 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 every thing is going wrong with her. Please go and see her, 
 and give her your advice, you who know every thing. She 
 will be so glad to see you ! She is all alone, wretched. 
 Mother-in-law is abroad with the family." 
 
 Certainly I will go to see her," said Levin. " Let us 
 go together. She is a glorious woman : don't you think 
 so?" 
 
 " And they live near you? " 
 
 " About thirty versts, possibly forty. But there's a good 
 road. We can make good time." 
 
 *' Like to very much," said Sergei Ivanovitch enthusias- 
 tically. The sight of his brother irresistibly filled him with 
 happiness. "Nu! what an appetite you have! " he added, 
 as he saw his tanned, sunburned, glowing face and neck, as 
 he bent over his plate. 
 
 " Excellent ! You can't imagine how this sort of thing 
 drives all foolish thoughts out of one's head. I am going to 
 enrich medicine with a new term, arbeitskur" [labor-cure]. 
 
 " Nu! you don't seem to need it much, it seems to me." 
 
 " Yes : it is a sovereign specific against nervous troubles." 
 
 " It must be looked into. I was coming to see you mow, 
 but the heat was so insupportable that I did not go farther 
 than the wood. I rested a while, and then I went to the vil- 
 lage. I met your nurse there, and asked her what the mu- 
 zhiks thought about you. As I understand it, they don't 
 approve of you. She said, 'It ain't the gentry's work.' 
 I think that, as a general thing, the peasantry form very 
 definite ideas about what is becoming for the gentry to do, 
 and the}* don't like to have them go outside of certain fixed 
 limits." 
 
 " Maybe ; but I never enjoyed any thing more in all my 
 life," he said ; " and I did not do anybody any harm, did I? 
 And suppose it doesn't please them, what is to be done? 
 Whose business is it? " 
 
 " Well, I see you are well satisfied with your day," replied 
 Sergei Ivanovitch. 
 
 "Very well satisfied. We finished the whole field; and I 
 got so well acquainted with the starik! you can't imagine 
 how he pleased me." 
 
 lk Nii! you are satisfied with your day! So am I with 
 mine. In the first place, I solved two chess problems, 
 and one was a beauty. I'll show it to you. And then 
 I thought of our last evening's discussion."
 
 ANNA K AH NINA. 271 
 
 "What? Our last evening's discussion?" said Levin, 
 half closing his eyes, with a sensation of comfort and ease 
 after his dinner, and entirely unable to recollect the subject 
 of their discussion. 
 
 " I come to the conclusion that you are parti}' in the right. 
 The discrepancy in our views lies in the fact that you assume 
 personal interest as the moving power of our actions, while 
 I claim that every man who has reached a certain stage of 
 intellectual development must have for his motive the public 
 interest. But you are probably right in saying that personal 
 action, material activity, is concerned in these matters. Your 
 nature is, as the French say. primesauti&re [off-hand]. You 
 want strong, energetic activity, or nothing." 
 
 Levin listened to his brother ; but he did not understand 
 him at all, and did not try to understand. He feared, how- 
 ever, that his brother would ask him some question by which 
 it would become evident that he was not listening. 
 
 "How is this, dntzhok?" [little friend], asked Sergei 
 Ivanovitch, taking him by the shoulder. 
 
 "Z)a/ of course. But, then, I don't set much store on 
 my own opinions," replied Levin, smiling like a child, con- 
 scious of naughtiness. His thought was, "What was our 
 discussion about? Of course; and I am right, and he is 
 right, and all is charming. But I must go to the office, and 
 give my orders." He arose and stretched himself. 
 
 " If you want to go out, let's go together," he said : " if 
 you must go to the office, I'll go with you." 
 
 " Ach, bdtiushki!" exclaimed Levin so bruskly, that his 
 brother was startled. 
 
 " What's the matter?" 
 
 " Agafya Mikhailovna's hand," said Levin, striking his 
 forehead. " I had forgotten all about her." 
 
 'She is much better." 
 
 " Nn! still, I must go to her. I'll be back before you get 
 on your hat." 
 
 And he started to run down-stairs, his heels clattering on 
 the steps. 
 
 VII. 
 
 WHILE Stepan Arkadyevitch was off to Petersburg, to fulfil 
 the duty so natural and unquestionable to functionaries, how- 
 ever other people may look upon it, of reporting to the min-
 
 272 9 ANNA KAK&NINA. 
 
 istiy, and at the same time, being well supplied with mone}*, 
 was read}* to enjoy himself at the races, and his friends 1 
 datchas, Dolly, with the children, was on her way to the 
 country, in order to reduce the expenses as much as possible. 
 She was going to their country-place at Yergushovo, an es- 
 tate which had been a part of her dowry. It was where the 
 wood had been sold in the spring, and was situated about 
 fifty versts from Levin's Pokrovsky. 
 
 The old seignorial mansion of Yergushovo had long been 
 in ruins, and the prince had contented himself with enlarging 
 and repairing one of the L's. Twenty years before, when 
 Dolly was a little girl, this L was spacious and comfortable, 
 though, in the manner of all L's, it was built across the ave- 
 nue, and towards the south. But now it was old, and out 
 of repair. When Stepan Arkadyevitch went in the spring 
 to sell the wood, his wife begged him to give a glance at the 
 house, and have it made habitable. Stepan Arkadyevitch, 
 like the guilty husband that he was, feeling desirous of mak- 
 ing his wife's material existence as comfortable as possible, 
 made haste to have the furniture covered with cretonne, to 
 hang curtains, to clear up the garden, to plant flowers, and 
 to build a bridge across the pond ; but he had overlooked 
 many more essential matters, and Daiya Aleksaudrovna was 
 not slow to complain about it. 
 
 Although Stepan was a solicitous husband and a father, 
 he was constantly forgetting that he had a wife and children, 
 and his tastes remained those of a bachelor. When he got 
 back to Moscow he took great pride in assuring his wife that 
 every thing was in prime order, that he had arranged the 
 house to perfection, and he advised her strongly to go there 
 immediately. This emigration suited him in many ways : 
 the children would enjoy the country, expenses would be 
 lessened, and last, and most essential, he would be freer. 
 
 Darya Aleksandrovna, on her part, felt that it would be a 
 good thing to take the children away after the scarlatina, 
 for the youngest little girl gained very slowly. Moreover, 
 she would be freed from the importunities of the butcher, the 
 fish-dealer, and the baker, which troubled her. And finally 
 the happy thought occurred, to invite her sister Kitty, who 
 was coming home from abroad about the middle of the sum- 
 mer, and had been advised to take some cold baths. Kitty 
 wrote her that nothing would delight her so much as to spend 
 the rest of the summer with her at Yergushovo, that place
 
 ANNA KARtixIXA. 273 
 
 that was so full of happy childhood memories for both of 
 them. 
 
 The first part of the time the country life was very tire- 
 some to Dolly. .She had lived there when she was a child. 
 Mewed in the light of early recollections, she had expected 
 it to be a refuge from all the trials of city life, and if it was 
 not very gay or elegant, and she hardly expected to find it 
 so, at least, it would be comfortable and inexpensive, and 
 the children would be happy. But now, when she came there 
 as mistress of the house, she found things contrary to her 
 expectations. 
 
 On the morning after their arrival, it began to rain in tor- 
 rents. The roof was leaking ; and the. water dripped in the 
 corridor and the nursery, and the little beds had to be 
 brought down into the parlor. It was impossible to find a 
 cook. Among the nine cows in the barn, according to the 
 dairy-woman's report, some were going to calve, and the 
 rest were either too young or too old, and consequently they 
 could not have butter, or even milk for the children. Not an 
 egg was to be had. It was impossible to find a hen. They 
 had for roasting or broiling, only tough old purple roosters. 
 No babui were to be found to do the washing all were at 
 work in the fields. They could not drive, because one of the 
 horses was balk}*, and wouldn't be harnessed. The}' had to 
 give up bathing, because the bank of the river had been trod- 
 den into a quagmire by the cattle, and, moreover, it was too 
 conspicuous. Walking near the house was not pleasant, be- 
 cause the tumble-down fences let the cattle into the garden, 
 and there was in the herd a terrible bull which bellowed, and 
 was reported to be ugly. In the house, there was not a 
 clothes-press. The closet-doors either would not shut, or 
 flew open when any one passed. In the kitchen, there were 
 no pots or kettles. In the laundry, there were no tubs, or 
 even any scrubbing-boards for the girls. 
 
 At first, therefore, Darya Aleksandrovna, not finding the 
 rest and peace which she expected, fell into despair. Real- 
 izing her helplessness in such a terrible situation, she could 
 not keep back her tears. The overseer, formerly a sergeant 
 [vakhmistr'], who, on account of his fine presence, had been 
 promoted by Stepau Arkadyevitch from his place as Swiss, 
 made no account of Darya Aleksandrovna's tribulations, but 
 simply said in his respectful wa\*, "Can't find anybody, the 
 peasantry are so beastly ! " and would not stir.
 
 274 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 The situation seemed hopeless ; but in the Oblonsky house- 
 hold, as in all well-regulated homes, there was one humble, 
 but still important and useful, member, Matriona Filimon- 
 ovna. She calmed the baruina, telling her that all would 
 come out right, that was her favorite expression, and 
 Matve" had borrowed it from her, and she went to work 
 without fuss and without bother. 
 
 She had made the acquaintance of the prikashckilc's wife, 
 and on the very day of their arrival went to take tea with 
 her under the acacias, and discussed with her the ways and 
 means of the household. A sort of club, composed of 
 Matrioua Filimonovna, together with the prikashchik' s wife, 
 the stdrosta [bailiff], and the book-keeper, was formed un- 
 der the trees ; and through their deliberations, the difficulties, 
 one by one, disappeared, and every thing, as Matriona said, 
 u came out all right." The roof was patched up; a cook 
 was found in a friend of the starosta's wife ; chickens were 
 bought ; the cows began to give milk ; the garden-fence was 
 repaired ; the carpenter drove in hooks, and put latches on the 
 closets, so that they would not keep flying open ; the laundry 
 was set to rights ; and the ironing-board, covered with sol- 
 diers' cloth, was extended from the dresser across the back 
 of a chair, and the smell of the ironing came up from below. 
 
 "JVw, vot ! " said Matriona Filimonovna, pointing to the 
 ironing-board. " There is no need of worrying." 
 
 They even went so far as to build a board bath-house on 
 the river-bank, so that Lili could bathe. Darya Aleksan- 
 drovna's hope of a comfortable, if not a peaceful, country 
 life became almost realized. Peaceful life was impossible 
 to her with six children. If one had an ill turn, another was 
 sure to follow suit, and something would happen to a third, 
 and the fourth would show signs of a bad character, and so 
 it always was. Rarely, rarely came even short periods of 
 rest. But these very anxieties and troubles were the only 
 chances of happiness that Darya Aleksandrovna had. If 
 she had been shut off from this resource, she would have 
 been a prey to her thoughts about a husband who no longer 
 loved her. Besides, these same children, who worried her 
 with their little illnesses and faults, drove away her sorrows 
 by their pleasures and enjoyments. Her joys were so small, 
 that they were almost invisible, like gold in sand ; and in 
 trying hours she saw only the sorrows, the sand : but there 
 were also happy moments, when she saw only the joys, the
 
 ANNA KARlSNINA. 275 
 
 gold. In the quiet of the country, her joys became more and 
 more frequent. Often, as she looked upon her little flock, 
 she accused herself of a mother's partiality, but she could 
 not help admiring them ; she could not keep from saying 
 to herself, that it was rare to meet such beautiful children, 
 all six charming -in their own ways ; and she rejoiced in 
 them, and was proud of them. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 TOWARDS the end of Maj% when every thing was beginning 
 to improve, she received her husband's reply to her com- 
 plaints about her domestic tribulations. He wrote, asking 
 pardon because he had not remembered every thing, and 
 promised to come just as soon as he could. This had not 
 yet come to pass ; and at the end of June, Darya Aleksan- 
 drovna was still living alone in the countiy. 
 
 On Sunday, during the fast of St. Peter, Darya Aleksan- 
 drovna took all her children to the holy communion. In her 
 intimate philosophical discussions with her sister, her mother, 
 or her friends, she sometimes surprised them by the breadth 
 of her views on religious subjects. She had gone through 
 strange religious metempsychoses, and had come out into a 
 faith which had very little in common with ecclesiastical 
 dogmas ; yet Dolly herself conformed strictly to all the 
 obligations of the church, and obliged her family to do the 
 same. She not only wished to let her example tell, but she | 
 felt it as a need of her soul. And now she was blaming! 
 herself because her children had not been to communion 
 since the beginning of the year, and she resolved to ac- 
 complish this duty. 
 
 For several days she had been deciding what the children 
 should wear : and now their dresses were arranged, all clean 
 and in order ; flutings and flounces were added, new buttons 
 were put on, and ribbons were gathered in knots. Only Tania's 
 dress, which had been intrusted to the English governess, was 
 a source of anger to Dolly : the English governess, sewing it 
 over again, put the seams across the shoulders in the wrong 
 place, made the sleeves too short, and spoiled the whole gar- 
 ment. Tania was a sight to see, so badly did the dress fit 
 her. Fortunately, it occurred to Matriona Filimonovna to 
 set gores into the waist, and to put on a collar. The harm
 
 276 ANNA KAKtiNINA. 
 
 was repaired, but they narrowly escaped a quarrel with the 
 English governess. 
 
 All was now in readiness ; and about ten o'clock in the 
 morning, for that was the hour that the priest had set for 
 the communion, the children, radiant with joy, were gath- 
 ered on the steps before the two-seated drozhky waiting for 
 their mother. Thanks to Matriona Filimonovna's watchful 
 care, in place of the restive horse, the prikasJiclik's stallion 
 had been harnessed to the clrozhky. Darya Aleksandrovna 
 appeared in a white muslin, and got into the carriage. 
 
 She had taken considerable pains with her toilet, and had 
 dressed with care and emotion. In former times she had 
 liked to dress well for the sake of being handsome and at- 
 tractive ; but as she got along in life, she lost her taste for 
 affairs of the toilet, because it made her realize how her 
 beauty had faded. But to-day she once more took especial 
 pains to improve her personal appearance. But she did not 
 dress for her own sake, or to enhance her beauty, but so 
 that, as mother of these lovely children, she might not spoil 
 the impression of the whole scene. And as she cast a final 
 glance at the mirror, she was satisfied with herself. She was 
 beautiful, not beautiful in the same way as once she liked 
 to be at the ball, but by reason of the purpose which inspired 
 her. 
 
 There was no one at church except the muzhiks and the 
 household servants ; but she noticed, or thought she noticed, 
 the attention that she and her children attracted as the}' went 
 along. The children were handsome in their nicely trimmed 
 dresses, and still more charming in their behavior. Little 
 Alosha, to be sure, was not absolutely satisfactory : he kept 
 turning round, and trying to look at the tails of his little coat, 
 but nevertheless he was wonderfully pretty. Tania behaved 
 like a little lady, and looked after the younger ones. But 
 Lili, the smallest, was fascinating in her na'ive delight at 
 every thing that she saw ; and it was hard not to smile when, 
 after she had received the communion, she cried out, " Please, 
 some more! " 
 
 After they got home, the children felt the consciousness 
 that something solemn had taken place, and were very quiet 
 and subdued. All went well in the house, till at lunch 
 Grisha began to whistle, and, what was worse than all, re- 
 fused to obey the English governess ; and he was sent away 
 without any tart. Darya Aleksandrovna would not have al-
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 277 
 
 lowed any punishment on such a day if she had been there ; 
 but she was obliged to uphold* the governess, and confirm her 
 in depriving Grisha of the tart. This was a cloud on the 
 general happiness. 
 
 Grisha began to cry, saying that Nikolinka also had 
 whistled, but they did not punish him ; and that he was not 
 crying about the tart, that was no account, but because 
 they had not been fair to him. This was very disagreeable ; 
 and Darya Aleksandrovna, after a consultation with the Eng- 
 lish governess, decided to reason with Grisha, and went to 
 get him. But then, as she went through the hall, she saw a 
 scene that brought such joy to her heart, that the tears came 
 to her eyes, and she herself forgave the culprit. 
 
 The little fellow was sitting in the drawing-room by the 
 bay-window: near him stood Tania with a plate. Under 
 the pretext of wanting some dessert for her dolls, she had 
 asked the English governess to let her take her portion of 
 the pie to the nursery ; but instead of this, she had taken it 
 to her brother. Grisha, still sobbing over the unfairness of 
 his punishment, was eating the pie, and saying to his sister 
 in the midst of his tears, "Take some too: we will eat to 
 together." 
 
 Tauia, full of sympathy for her brother, and with the sym- 
 pathy of having done a generous action, was eating her part 
 with tears in her eyes. When they saw their mother, they 
 were scared, but they felt assured by the expression of her 
 face, that the}' were doing right : they ran to her with their 
 mouths still full of pie, began to kiss her hands with their 
 laughing lips, and their shining faces were stained with tears 
 and jam. 
 
 "Mdtiushki! my new white dress! Tania! Grisha!" 
 exclaimed the mother, endeavoring to save her dress, but 
 at the same time smiling at them with a happy, beatific 
 smile. 
 
 Afterwards the new dresses were taken off, and the girls 
 put on their frocks, and the boys their old jackets ; and the 
 lineika [two-seated drozhky'] was brought out again, to the 
 wrath of the prikashchik, whose stallion was put at the pole ; 
 and they started with joyful cries and shouts out after mush- 
 rooms, and to have a bath. 
 
 They soon filled a basket with mushrooms : even Lili found 
 one. Always before Miss Hull had been obliged to find them 
 for her ; but now she herself found a huge birch shliupik, and
 
 278 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 there was a universal cry of enthusiasm, " Lili has found a 
 shliupik ! ' ' 
 
 Afterwards they came to the river, fastened the horses to 
 the birch-trees, and had their bath. The coachman, Terenti, 
 leaving the animals to switch away the flies with their tails, 
 stretched himself out on the grass in the shade of the birches, 
 and lighted his pipe, and listened to the shouts and laughter 
 of the children in the bath-house. 
 
 Although it was rather embarrassing to look after all these 
 children, and to keep them from mischief ; though it was hard 
 to remember, and not mix up all these stockings, shoes, and 
 trousers for so many different legs, and to untie, unbutton, 
 and then fasten again, so many strings and buttons, still 
 Darya Aleksandrovna always took a lively interest in the 
 bathing, looking upon it as advantageous for the children, 
 and never feeling happier than when engaged in this occupa- 
 tion. To fit the stockings on these plump little legs ; to take 
 them by the hand, and dip their naked little bodies into the 
 water; to hear their cries, now joyful, now terrified ; to see 
 these eyes shining with joy and excitement, these splashing 
 chei-itbimtchiks, was to her a perfect delight. 
 
 When the children were about half dressed, the peasant- 
 women, in Sunday attire, came along, and stopped timidly 
 at the bath-house. Matriona Filimonovna hailed one of 
 them, in order to give her some of the shirts to dry that had 
 fallen into the river ; and Darya Aleksandrovna talked with 
 the babui. At first they laughed behind their hoods, and 
 did not understand her questions ; but little by little their 
 courage returned, and they quite won Darya Aleksandrovna's 
 heart by their sincere admiration of the children. 
 
 " Ish tui! ain't she lovely, now? White as sugar ! " said 
 one, pointing to Tania, and nodding her head. "But thin " 
 
 " Yes : been sick." 
 
 " LT)ok you," said still another, pointing to the youngest. 
 
 " You don't take him in? " 
 
 " No," said Darya Aleksandrovna proudly. " He is only 
 three months old." 
 
 " You don't say ! " ["/s/i tui! "] 
 
 " And have you children? " 
 
 "Had four; two alive, boy and girl. I weaned the last 
 before Lent. 
 
 "How old is he?" 
 
 4 ' Da ! Second y ear . "
 
 ANNA KAlifiNINA. * 279 
 
 " And do yon nnrse him so long? " 
 
 " It's our way : three springs." 
 
 And then the bab asked Darya Aleksandrovna about her 
 children and their illness ; where was her husband ? would 
 she see him often ? 
 
 Darya Aleksandrovna found the conversation with the 
 babui so interesting, that she did not want to say good-by 
 to them. And it was pleasant to her, to see how evidently 
 all these women looked with admiration, because she had so 
 many and such lovely children. The babui made Darya 
 Aleksandrovna laugh, and piqued Miss Hull because she was 
 evidently the cause of their unaccountable laughter. One of 
 the 3'oung women gazed with all her eyes at Miss Hull, who 
 was dressing last ; and, when she put on the third petticoat, 
 she could not restrain herself any longer, but burst out 
 laughing. " Ish tuil she put on one, and then she put on 
 another, and she hasn't got them all on yet! " and they all 
 broke into loud ha-has. 
 
 IX. 
 
 DARYA ALEKSANDROVNA, with a platoJc on her head, and 
 surrounded by all her little flock of bathers, was just drawing 
 near the house when the coachman called out, " Here comes 
 some barin, Pokrovsky, it looks like ! " 
 
 To her great joy, Darya Aleksandrovna saw that it was 
 indeed Levin's well-known form in gray hat and gray over- 
 coat. She was alwa}^ glad to see him ; but now she was 
 particularly delighted, because he saw her in all her glory, 
 and no one could appreciate her triumph better than Levin. 
 
 When he caught sight of her, it seemed to him that he saw 
 the personification of the family happiness of his dreams. 
 
 " You are like a brooding-hen, Darya Aleksandrovna." 
 
 " Acli! how glad I am ! " said she, extending her hand. 
 
 "Glad! But 3-011 did not let me know. My brother is 
 staying with me ; and I had a little note from Stiva, telling 
 me you were here." 
 
 " From Stiva? " repeated Dolly, astonished. 
 
 "Yes. He wrote me that you were in the country, and 
 thought that you would allow me to be of some use to you," 
 said Levin ; and suddenly, even while speaking, he became 
 confused, and walked in silence by the lintflca, pulling off, 
 and biting, linden-twigs as he went. It had occurred to him
 
 280 . ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 that Darya Aleksandrovna would doubtless find it painful to 
 have a neighbor offer her the assistance which her husband 
 should have given. In fact, Darya Aleksandrovna was dis- 
 pleased at the way in which Stepan Arkadyevitch had thrust 
 his domestic difficulties upon a stranger. She perceived that 
 Levin felt this, and she felt grateful to him for his tact and 
 delicacy. 
 
 "Of course, I understood that it was a pleasant way of 
 telling me that you would be glad to see me ; and I was glad. 
 Of course, I imagine that you, a city dame, find it savage 
 here ; and, if I can be of the least use to you, I am wholly 
 at your service." 
 
 "Oh, no!" said Dolly. "At first it was rather hard, 
 but now every thing is running beautifully. I owe it all to 
 my old nurse," she added, pointing to Matriona Filimonovna, 
 who, perceiving that they were speaking of her, gave Levin 
 a pleasant, friendly smile. She knew him, and knew that 
 he would make a splendid husband for the baruishna, as she 
 called Kitty, and thus felt an interest in him. 
 
 "Will you get in? We will squeeze up a little," said she. 
 
 " No, I will walk. Children, which of you will run with 
 me to get ahead of the horses? " 
 
 The children were very slightly acquainted with Levin, and 
 did not remember where they had seen him ; but they had 
 none of that strange feeling of timidity and aversion which 
 children are often blamed for showing in the presence of 
 their elders. The most shrewd and experienced man may 
 easily become the dupe of dissimulation ; but even the most 
 innocent child seems to know it by intuition or instinct, though 
 it be most carefully hidden. Whatever faults Levin had, he 
 could not be accused of lack of sincerity ; and, moreover, 
 the children felt well inclined to him on account of the ex- 
 pressions of good will that the} 7 had seen on their mother's 
 face. The two eldest instantly accepted his invitation, and 
 ran with him as they would have gone with their nurse, or 
 Miss Hull, or their mother. Lili also wanted to go with him : 
 so he set her on his shoulder, and began to run. 
 
 "Don't be frightened, don't be frightened, Darya Alek- 
 sandrovna," he said, laughing gayly. "I won't hurt her, or 
 let her fall." 
 
 And when -she saw his strong, agile, and at the same time 
 prudent and careful, movements, Dolly felt re-assured, and 
 followed his course with pleasure.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 281 
 
 There in the country, with the children and with Darya 
 Aleksandrovna, with whom he felt thoroughly in sympathy, 
 Levin entered into that boylike, happy frame of mind which 
 was not unusual with him, and which Darya Aleksandrovna 
 especially admired in him. He played with the children, and 
 taught them gymnastic exercises ; he jested with Miss Hull 
 in his broken English ; and he told Darya Aleksandrovna of 
 his undertakings in the country. 
 
 After dinner, Darya Aleksandrovna, sitting alone with him 
 on the balcony, began to speak of Kitty. 
 
 " Did you know? Kitty is coming here to spend the sum- 
 mer with me ! ' ' 
 
 "Indeed!" replied Levin, confused; and instantly, in 
 order to change the subject, he added, 
 
 "Then I shall send you two cows, shall I? And if you 
 insist on pa}-iug, and have no scruples, then you may give 
 me five rubles a month." 
 
 " No, excuse me. We shall get along." 
 
 " Nu ! Then I am going to look at your cows ; and, with 
 your permission, I will give directions about feeding them. 
 All depends on that." 
 
 And Levin, in order not to hear any thing more about 
 Kitty, of whom more than any thing else he was anxious to 
 hear, explained to Darya Aleksandrovna the whole theory of 
 the proper management of cows, so systematized that cows 
 became mere machines for the conversion of so much fodder 
 into milk, and so on. He was afraid that his peace of mind, 
 so painfully won, might be destroyed. 
 
 "Yes: but, in order to do all this, there must be some 
 one to superintend it; and who is there?" asked Darya 
 Aleksandrovna, not quite convinced. 
 
 Now that her domestic regime was satisfactory, through 
 Matriona Filimonovna, she had no desire to make any 
 changes : moreover, she had no faith in Levin's knowledge 
 about rustic management. His reasonings about a cow 
 being merely a machine to produce milk were suspicious. 
 It seemed to her that such theories would throw house- 
 keeping into discord : it even seemed to her that they 
 might be dangerous. And that it was sufficient to do as 
 
 o o 
 
 Matriona Filimonovna did, to give the two cows more 
 fodder, and to prevent the cook from carrying dish-water 
 from the kitchen to the dairy, this was clear. But the 
 theories about meal and ensilage for fodder were not clear,
 
 282 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 but dubious ; and the principal point was, that she wanted 
 to talk about Kitty. 
 
 X. 
 
 " KITTY writes me that she is longing for solitude and 
 repose," began Dolly after a moment's silence. 
 
 " Is her health better? " asked Levin with feeling. 
 
 " Thank the Lord, she is entirely well! I never believed 
 that she had any lung-trouble." 
 
 " Ach! I am very glad," said Levin ; and Dolly thought 
 that she could read on his face the touching expression of 
 inconsolable grief as he said it, and then looked at her in 
 silence. 
 
 " Tell me, Konstantin Levin," said Darya Aleksandrovna 
 with a friendly, and at the same time a rather mischievous, 
 smile, " why are you angry with Kitty? " 
 
 "I? I am not angry with her," said Levin. 
 
 " Yes, you are. Why didn't you come to see any of us 
 the last time you were in Moscow? " 
 
 "Darya Aleksandrovna," he exclaimed, blushing to the 
 roots of his hair, " I beg of you, with your kindness of 
 heart, not to think of such a thing ! How can you not have 
 pity on me when you know " 
 
 " What do I know?" 
 
 " You know that I offered myself, and was rejected." 
 And as he said this, all the tender feelings that Kitty's name 
 had caused vanished at the memory of this injury. 
 
 " How could you suppose that I knew? " 
 
 " Because everybody knows it." 
 
 " There is where you are mistaken. I suspected it, but I 
 knew nothing positive." 
 
 " Ah, nu! and so you know now ! " 
 
 ' ' All that I know is that she was keenly tortured by a mem- 
 ory to which she permitted no reference made. If she has 
 made no confidences to me, then she has not to any one else. 
 Now, what have you against her? Tell me! " 
 
 " I just told you all that there was." 
 
 "When was it?" 
 
 " When I was at your house the last time." 
 
 " But do you know? I will tell you," said Darya Alek- 
 sandrovna "I am sorry for Kitty, very sorry. You suffer 
 only in your pride ' '
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 283 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Levin, " but " 
 
 She interrupted him. 
 
 " But she, poor little one, I am very, very sorry for her. 
 Now I understand all ! " 
 
 " Nu, Darya Aleksandrovna, excuse me," said he, rising. 
 " Proshcliaite [good-by], Darya Aleksandrovua, till we meet 
 again." 
 
 "No! wait!" she cried, holding him by the sleeve: 
 " wait! sit down ! " 
 
 " I beg of you, I beg of you, let us not speak of this any 
 more," said Levin, sitting down again; while a ray of that 
 hope which he believed forever vanished, flashed into his 
 heart. 
 
 " If I did not like you," said Dolly, her eyes full of tears, 
 " if I did not know you as I do" 
 
 The hope which he thought was dead, filled Levin's heart 
 more and more. 
 
 "Yes, I understand all now," said Dolly : "you cannot 
 understand this, you men, who are free in your choice; it is 
 perfectly clear whom you love : while a young girl, with that 
 feminine, maidenly modesty imposed on her, must see you 
 men, but must wait till the word is spoken and the young 
 girl will be, must be, so timid that she will not know what to 
 say." 
 
 " Yes, if her heart does not speak " 
 
 " No ; her heart speaks, but think for a moment : yon men 
 decide upon some girl, you visit her home, you watch, observe, 
 and you make up your minds whether you are in love or not, 
 and then, when you have come to the conclusion that you love 
 her, you offer yourselves." 
 
 " Nu! we don't always do that." 
 
 " All the same, you don't propose until your love is fully 
 ripe, or when you have made up your mind between two 
 possible choices. But the young girl cannot make a choice. 
 They pretend that she can choose, but she cannot : she can 
 only answer yes or no." 
 
 " Da! the choice was between me and Vronsky," thought 
 Levin ; and the resuscitated dead love in his soul seemed to 
 die for a second, giving his heart an additional pang. 
 
 " Daiya Aleksandrovna," said he, " thus one chooses a 
 dress or any trifling merchandise, but not love. Besides, the 
 choice has been made, and so much the better ; and it can- 
 not be done again."
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 " Ach! pride, pride!" said Dolly, as though she would 
 express her scorn for the degradation of his sentiments 
 compared with those which only women are able to compre- 
 hend. 
 
 " When you offered yourself to Kitty, she was in just that 
 situation where she could not give an answer. She was in 
 doubt : the choice was you or Vronsky. She saw him every 
 day : you she had not seen for a long time. If she had been 
 older, it would have been different: if I, for example, had 
 been in her place, I should not have hesitated. He has 
 always been distasteful to me, and so that is the end of it." 
 
 Levin remembered Kitty's reply: " No, this cannot be." 
 
 ' k Darya Aleksandrovna," said he dryly, "I am touched 
 by your confidence in me ; but I think you are mistaken. 
 Right or wrong, this vanity which you so despise makes it 
 impossible for me ever to think about Kateriua Aleksan- 
 drovna ; you understand? utterly impossible." 
 
 " I will say only one thing more. You must know that I 
 am speaking to you of my sister, whom I love as my own 
 children. 1 don't say that she loves you, but I only wish to 
 say that her reply at that moment amounted to nothing at 
 all." 
 
 " I don't know," said Levin, leaping suddenly to his feet. 
 "If you only realized the pain that } T OU cause me! It is 
 just the same as if you had lost a child, and they came to 
 you and said, ' He would have been like this, like this, and 
 he might have lived, and you would have had so much joy 
 in him But he is dead, dead, dead ' " 
 
 " How absurd you are ! " said Darya Aleksandrovna, with 
 a melancholy smile at the sight of Levin's emotion. " Da! 
 I understand better and better," she continued pensively. 
 " Then you won't come to see us when Kitty is here? " 
 
 " No, I will not. Of course I will not avoid Katerina 
 Aleksandrovna ; but, when it is possible, I shall endeavor to 
 spare her the affliction of my presence." 
 
 " You are very, very absurd," said Darya Aleksandrovna, 
 looking at him affectionately. " Nti! let it be as though we 
 had not said a word about it. What do you want, Tania? " 
 said she in French to her little girl, who came running in. 
 
 " Where is my little shovel, mamma? " 
 
 " I speak French to you, and you must answer in French." 
 
 The child tried to speak, but could not recall the French 
 word for shovel. Her mother whispered it to her, and then
 
 ANNA KAKfiNINA. 285 
 
 told her, still in French, where she should go to find it. This 
 made Levin feel unpleasantly. 
 
 Every thing now seemed changed in Darya Aleksandrovna's 
 household ; even the children were not nearly so attractive 
 as before. 
 
 "And why does she speak French to the children?" he 
 thought. "How false and unnatural! Even the children 
 feel it. Teach them French, and spoil their sincerity," he 
 said to himself, not knowing that Darya Aleksandrovna had 
 twenty times asked the same question, and yet, in* spite of 
 the harm that it did their simplicity, had come to the conclu- 
 sion that this was the right way to teach them. 
 
 " But why are you in a hurry? Sit a little while longer." 
 
 Levin staid to tea ; but all his gayety was gone, and he 
 felt bored. 
 
 After tea he went out to give orders about harnessing the 
 horses : and when he came in he found Darya Aleksandrovna 
 in great disturbance, with flushed face, and tears in her eyes. 
 During his short absence all the pleasure and pride that she 
 took in her children had been ruthlessly destroyed. Grisha 
 and Tania had quarrelled about a ball. Darya Aleksan- 
 drovna, hearing their cries, ran to them, and found them in a 
 frightful state. Tauia was pulling her brother's hair ; and 
 he, with angry face, was pounding his sister with all his 
 might. When Da'rya Aleksandrovna saw it, something 
 seemed to snap in her heart. A black cloud, as it were, 
 came down on her life. She saw that these children of hers, 
 of whom she was so proud, were not only ill trained, but 
 were even bad, and inclined to the most evil and tempestuous 
 passions. 
 
 This thought troubled her so that sh$ could not speak or 
 think, or even explain her sorrow to Levin. Levin' saw that 
 she was unhappy, and he did his best to comfort her, saying 
 that this was not so very terrible, after all, and that all chil- 
 dren got into fights ; but in his heart he said, " No, I will 
 not bother myself to speak French with my children. I 
 shall not have such children. There is no need of spoiling 
 them, and making them unnatural ; and they will be charm- 
 ing. Da! my children shall not be like these." 
 
 He took his leave, and rode away ; and she did not try to 
 keep him longer.
 
 286 ANNA KAE&NINA. 
 
 XL 
 
 TOWARDS the middle of July, Levin received a visit from 
 the stdrosta of his sister's estate, situated about twenty versts 
 from Pokrovsky. He brought the report about the progress 
 of affairs, and about the hay-making. The chief income from 
 this estate came from the prairies inundated in tlie spring. 
 In former years the muzhiks rented these hayh'elds at the 
 rate of twenty rubles a desyatin. But when Levin under- 
 took the management of this estate, and examined the hay- 
 crops, he came to the conclusion that the rent was too low, 
 and he raised it to the rate of twenty-five rubles a clasyi.it in. 
 The muzhiks refused to pay this, and, as Levin suspected, 
 drove away other lessees. Then Levin himself went there, 
 and arranged to have the prairies mowed partly by day la- 
 borers, partly on shares. His muzhiks were greatly discon- 
 tented with this new plan, and did their best to block it ; but 
 it succeeded, and even the very first year the yield from the 
 prairies was doubled. For the second and the third sum- 
 mere the peasantry still resisted, but the harvesting went on 
 in good order, and the present year the} 7 proposed to mow the 
 prairies on thirds ; and now the stdrosta came to announce 
 that the work was done, and that he, fearing lest it should 
 rain, had asked the accountant to make the division, and turn 
 over to the proprietor the eighteen hay-cocks which were his 
 share. By the unsatisfactory answer to his question why 
 the hay had been mowed only on the largest prairie, b}' the 
 stdrosia's haste in declaring the division without orders, by 
 the muzhik's whole manner, Levin was led to think that in 
 this matter there was something crooked, and he concluded 
 that it would be wise, to go and look into it. 
 
 Levin reached the estate just at dinner-time ; and, leaving 
 his horse at the house of his brother's nurse, he went to find 
 the old man at the apiary, hoping to obtain from him some 
 light on the question of the hay-crop. 
 
 The loquacious, friendly old man, whose name was Par- 
 menvitch, was delighted to see Levin, told him all about his 
 husbandry, and gave him a long account of his bees, and 
 how they swarmed this year ; but when Levin asked him 
 about the hay, he gave vague and unsatisfactory answers. 
 And thus Levin's suspicions were more than ever strength- 
 ened. Thence he went to the prairie and examined the hay-
 
 ANNA KABtiNINA. 287 
 
 ricks, and found that they could not contain fifty loads each, 
 as the muzhiks said. ISo he had one of the carts which they 
 had used as a measure to be brought, and ordered all the 
 hay from one of the ricks to be carried into the shed. The 
 hay-rick was found to contain only thirty-two loads. Not- 
 withstanding the stdrosta's protestations that the hay was 
 measured right, and that it must have got pressed down in 
 the cart ; notwithstanding the fact that he called God to 
 witness that it was all done in the most righteous manner, 
 Levin replied, that, as the division had been made without 
 his orders, he would not accept the hay-ricks as equivalent to 
 fifty loads each. After long parleys, it was decided that the 
 muzhiks should take eleven of these hay-ricks for their share, 
 but that the master's should be measured over again. The 
 colloquy did not come to an end until it was after the lunch- 
 hour. When the division was going on, Levin, confiding the 
 care of the work to the book-keeper, sat down on one of the 
 hay-ricks which was marked by a laburnum stake, and 
 enjoyed the spectacle of the prairie alive with the busy 
 peasantry. 
 
 Before him lay the bend of the river, and on the banks he 
 saw the peasant women, and heard their ringing voices as 
 they gossipped, and moved in parti-colored groups, raking 
 the scattered hay over the beautiful green-growing aftermath, 
 into long wavering brown ramparts. Behind the babui came 
 the muzhiks with pitchforks, who turned the windrows into 
 huge high-crested hay-cocks. On one side in the corner of 
 the prairie, all cleared of hay, came the creaking tdytyas in 
 a long line. One by one they were loaded with the share 
 belonging to the muzhiks, and their places were taken by the 
 horse-wagons heavy with the loads of fragrant hay. 
 
 "Splendid hay weather! Soon '11 be all in," said the 
 starik, sitting down near Levin. k ' Tea-leaves, not hay. 
 Scatter it just like seeds for the chickens." Then, pointing 
 to a hay-rick which the men were demolishing, the starik 
 went on : " Since dinner, pitched up a good half of it. Is 
 that the last?" he shouted to a young fellow who, standing 
 on the thills of a telyega, and shaking his hempen reins, was 
 driving by. 
 
 " The last, bdtiushka," shouted back the young fellow, 
 hauling in his horse. Then he looked down with a smile up- 
 on a happy-looking, rosy-faced baba who was sitting on the 
 hay in the telytya, and whipped up his steed again.
 
 288 ANNA KARfiNlNA. 
 
 "Who is that? your son?" asked Levin. 
 
 " My youngest," said the starik with an expression of 
 pride. 
 
 "What a fine fellow! " 
 
 "Not bad." 
 
 "Married yet?" 
 
 " Yes, three years come next Filipovok " [St. Philip's 
 Day, Nov. 14]. 
 
 " So? And are there children? " 
 
 " How? children? No, more's the pity. Nu! the haj r , 
 just tea-leaves," he added, wishing to change the subject. 
 
 Levin looked with interest at Vanka Parmenof and his 
 young wife. Vanka was standing on the wagon, arranging, 
 storing, and pressing down the fragrant hay which the hand- 
 some good-wife handed up to him. The young baba worked 
 gayly, industriously, and skilfully. First she arranged it 
 with her fork ; then, with elastic and agile motions, she exerted 
 all her strength upon it ; and, bending over, she lifted up the 
 great armful, and standing straight, with full bosom under 
 the white chemise gathered with a red girdle, she handed it 
 to her husband. Vanka, working as rapidly as he could, so 
 as to relieve her of every moment of extra work, stretched 
 out his arms wide, and caught up the load which she ex- 
 tended, and trampled it down into the wagon. Then, raking 
 up what was left, the baba shook off the hay that had got 
 into her neck, and, tying a red handkerchief around her broad 
 white brow, she crept under the telyega to fasten down the 
 load. Vanka showed her how the ropes should be tied, and at 
 some remark that she made burst into a roar of laughter. 
 On the expressive faces of both could be seeii the marks of 
 strong young love newly awakened. 
 
 XII. 
 
 THE load was complete ; and Vanka, jumping down , took his 
 gentle, fat horse by the bridle, and joined the file of telytgas 
 going to the village. The baba threw her rake on the load, 
 and with firm step joined the other women who in a group 
 followed the carts. The bnbui, with rakes on their shoulders, 
 and dressed in bright-colored petticoats, began to sing in 
 loud, happy voices. One wild, untrained voice would intone 
 the folk-song (py^sna), and then fifty other young, fresh,
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA, 289 
 
 and powerful voices would take it up, and repeat it to the 
 end. 
 
 The babui, singing their pyesna, passed by Levin ; and it 
 seemed to him, as he sat comfortably on his hay-rick, that 
 they were like a cloud, big with tumultuous joy, ready to 
 overwhelm him and carry him off, together with his hay and 
 the other hay-ricks and the wagons. As he heard the rhythm 
 of this wild song, with its accompaniment of whistles and 
 shrill cries, the prairie, the far-away fields, all things seemed 
 to him to be filled with a strange, weird life and animation. 
 This gayety filled him with envy. He would have liked to 
 take part ; but he could not thus express his joy of living, 
 and he was obliged to lie still and look and listen. When 
 the throng had passed out of sight, he was seized with a 
 sense of his loneliness, of his physical indolence, of the 
 hostility which existed between him and this life that he 
 saw. 
 
 All of these muzhiks, even those who had quarrelled with 
 him about the hay, or those whom he had injured if their 
 intention was not to cheat him, saluted him gayly as they 
 passed, and showed no anger for what he had done, or any 
 remorse or even remembrance that they had tried to defraud 
 him. All was swallowed up and forgotten in this sea of joy- 
 ous, universal labor. God gave the day, God gave the 
 strength ; and the day and the strength consecrated the 
 labor, and gave their own reward. For whom the work? 
 Who would enjoy the work? These questions were sec- 
 ondary and of no account. 
 
 Levin had often looked with interest at this life, had often 
 been tempted to become one with the people, living their 
 lives ; but to-day the impression of what he had seen in the 
 bearing of Vanka Parmenof towards his young wife gave him 
 for the first time a clear and definite desire to exchange the 
 burdensome, idle, artificial, selfish existence which he led, 
 for the laborious, simple, pure, and delightful life of the 
 peasantiy. 
 
 The starik, who had been sitting with him, had already gone 
 home ; the people were scattered ; the neighbors had gone 
 home : but those who lived at a distance were preparing to 
 spend the night on the prairie, and getting ready for supper. 
 
 Levin, without being seen, still lay on the hay, looking, 
 listening, and thinking. The peasantry gathered on the 
 prairie scarcely slept throughout the short summer night.
 
 290 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 
 
 At first there were gay gossip and laughter while everybody 
 was eating ; then followed songs and jests. 
 
 All the long, laborious day had left no trace upon them, 
 except of its happiness. Just before the dawn there was 
 silence everywhere. Nothing could be heard but the noc- 
 turnal sounds of the frogs croaking in the marsh, and the 
 horses whim^-ing as they waited for the coming morning. 
 Coming to himself, Levin stood up on the hay-rick, and, 
 looking at the stars, saw that the night had gone. 
 
 " Nu! what am I going to do? How am I going to do 
 this?" he asked himself, trying to give a shape to the 
 thoughts and feelings that had occupied him during this 
 short night. 
 
 These thoughts and feelings had run in three separate 
 directions. First, it seemed to him that he must renounce 
 his former way of living, which was useful neither to himself 
 nor to anybody else. In comparison to it, the new life 
 seemed to him simple and attractive. The second thought 
 especially referred to the new life which he longed to lead. 
 To renounce his useless intellectual culture was easy, espe- 
 cially when the simplicity and purity of his future life was 
 so likely, as he thought, to restore him to calmness and quie- 
 tude of mind. The third line of thought brought him to the 
 question how he should effect the transition from the old life 
 to the new, and in this regard there was nothing clear that 
 presented itself to his mind. " I must have a wife. I must 
 engage in work, and not solitary work. Shall I sell Pok- 
 rovsky? buy land? join the commune? marry a peasant 
 woman? How can I do all this?" he asked himself, and 
 no answer came. " However," he went on in his self-com- 
 muuings, " I have not slept all night, and my ideas are not 
 very clear. I shall reduce them to order by and by. One 
 thing is certain : this night has settled my fate. All my 
 former dreams of family existence were rubbish, but this 
 all this is vastly simpler and better. 
 
 "How lovely!" he thought as he gazed at the delicate 
 rosy clouds, colored like mother-of-pearl, which floated in 
 the sky above him. " How charming every thing has been 
 this lovely night ! And when did that shell have time to 
 form? I have been looking this long time at the sky. and 
 only two white streaks were to be seen. Da! thus, without 
 my knowing it, my views about life have been changed." 
 
 He left the prairie, and walked along the highway towards
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 291 
 
 the village. A cool breeze began to blow. At this moment, 
 just before the dawn, every thing took on a gray and melan- 
 choly tint, as if to bring out into stronger relief the perfect 
 triumph of light over the darkness. 
 
 Levin shivered with the chill. He walked fast, looking 
 at the ground. " Who is that coming? " he asked himself, 
 hearing the sound of bells. He raised his head. About 
 forty steps from him he saw, coming towards him on the 
 highway, a travelling-carriage, drawn by four horses. The 
 horses, to avoid the ruts, pressed close against the pole ; 
 but the skilful yamshchik [driver] , seated on one side of the 
 box, drove so well that the wheels kept only on the smooth 
 surface of the road. 
 
 Levin was so interested in this that he looked only at the 
 carriage, and forgot about the occupants. 
 
 In one corner of the carriage an elderly lady was asleep ; 
 and by the window sat a young girl, only just awake, holding 
 with both hands the ribbons of her white bonnet. Serene 
 and thoughtful, filled with a lofty, complex life which Levin 
 could not understand, she was gazing beyond him at the 
 glow of the morning sky. 
 
 At the very instant that this vision flashed by him he 
 caught a glimpse of her frank e3'es. He recognized her, and 
 a gleam of joy, mingled with wonder, shone upon his face. 1 
 
 He could not be mistaken. Only she in all the world 
 could have such ej'es. In all the world there was but one 
 being who could condense for him all the light and meaning 
 of life. It was she : it was Kitty. He judged that she was 
 on her way from the railway station to Yergushovo. And all 
 the thoughts that had occupied Levin through his sleepless 
 night, all the resolutions that he had made, vanished in a 
 twinkling. Horror seized him as he remembered his resolution 
 of marrying a krestianka. In that carriage which flashed 
 by him on the other side of the road, and disappeared, was 
 the only possible answer to his life's enigma which had tor- 
 mented and puzzled him so long. She was now out of sight ; 
 the rumble of the wheels had ceased, and scarcely could he 
 hear the bells. The barking of the dogs told him that the 
 carriage was passing through the village. And now there 
 remained only the lonely prairies, the distant village, and 
 
 1 In the original it says that she recognized Levin, and the joy shone upon her 
 face. But it is evident, from the conversation in chap. zi. book iii., that it could not 
 have been so.
 
 292 ANNA KAJitfNINA. 
 
 himself, an alien and a stranger to every thing, walking soli- 
 tan' on the deserted highway. 
 
 He looked at the sky, hoping to find there still the sea-shell 
 cloud which he had admired, and which personified for him 
 the movement of his thoughts and feelings during the night. 
 But he could find nothing that resembled the pearl-like hues. 
 There, at immeasurable heights, that mysterious change had 
 already taken place. There was no sign of the sea-shell, 
 but in its place there extended over the whole level extent of 
 the heavens a tapestry of cirrhous clouds sweeping on and 
 sweeping on. The sky was growing blue and luminous, and 
 with tenderness and less of mystery it answered his ques- 
 tioning look. 
 
 " No," he said to himself, " however good this simple 
 and laborious life may be, I cannot bring myself to it. I 
 love her." 
 
 XIII. 
 
 No one except Aleksei Aleksandrovitch's most intimate 
 friends suspected that this apparently cold and rational man 
 had one weakness absolutely contradictory to the general 
 consistency of his character. He could not look on with indif- 
 ference when a child or a woman was weeping. The sight 
 of tears caused him to lose his self-control, and destroyed for 
 him his reasoning-faculties. His subordinates understood 
 this, and warned women who came to present petitions not to 
 allow their feelings to overcome them unless they wanted 
 to injure their prospects. " He will fly into a passion, and 
 will not listen to you," they said. And it was a fact that 
 the trouble which the sight of weeping caused Aleksei Alek- 
 sandrovitch was expressed by hasty irritation. " I cannot, 
 I cannot, do any thing for you. Please leave me," he would 
 cry, as a general thing, in such cases. 
 
 When, on their way back from the races, Anna confessed 
 her love for Vronsky, and, covering her face with her hands, 
 burst into tears, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, in spite of his 
 anger against his wife, was conscious at the same time of 
 this feeling of deep, soul-felt emotion which the sight of weep- 
 ing always caused him. Knowing this, and knowing that any 
 expression of it would be incompatible with the situation, he 
 endeavored to restrain every sign of life, and therefore he 
 did not move and did not look at her : hence arose that
 
 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 293 
 
 strange appearance of deathlike rigidity in his face which 
 so impressed Anna. 
 
 When they reached home, he helped her from the carnage ; 
 and, having made a great effort, he left her with ordinar}' 
 politeness, saying those words which would not oblige him 
 to follow any course. He simply said that to-morrow he 
 would let her know his decision. 
 
 Anna's words, confirming his worst .suspicions, caused a 
 keen pain in his heart ; and this pain was made still keener 
 by the strange sensation of physical pity for her, caused 
 by the sight of her tears. Yet, as he sat alone in his car- 
 riage, Aleksandrovitch felt, to his surprise and pleasure, 
 as if an immense weight had been taken from his mind. It 
 seemed to him that he was now freed from his doubts, his 
 jealousy, and his pity. 
 
 He appreciated the feelings of a man who has been suffer- 
 ing long from the toothache, and at last has the tooth drawn. 
 The pain is terrible, frightful, that sensation of an enormous 
 bod}-, greater than the head itself, which the forceps tears 
 away ; and the patient can hardly believe in his good fortune 
 when the pain that has poisoned his life so long has suddenly 
 ceased, and he can live, think, and interest himself in some- 
 thing besides his aching tooth. Such was Aleksei Aleksan- 
 drovitch's feeling. The pain had been strange and terrible, 
 but now it was over. He felt that he could live again and 
 think of something besides his wife. 
 
 " Without honor, without heart, without religion, a lost 
 woman ! This I always knew, although out of pity for 
 her, I tried to blind myself," he said to himself. And he 
 was perfectly sincere in his conviction that he had always 
 been so perspicacious. He recalled many details of their 
 past lives ; and things which once seemed innocent in his 
 eyes, now clearly came up as proofs that she had always been 
 corrupt. 
 
 " I made a mistake when I joined my life to hers ; but my 
 mistake was not my fault, and I ought not to be unhappy. 
 The guilt}- one," he said, "is not I, but she. But I have 
 nothing more to do with her. She does not exist for me." 
 
 He ceased to think of the misfortunes that would befall 
 her, as well as his son, for whom also his feelings underwent 
 a similar change. The one essential thing was the question, 
 how to make his escape from this wretched crisis in a fashion 
 at once wise, correct, and honorable for himself, and having
 
 294 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 cleared himself satisfactorily from the mud which she had 
 spattered him withal, owing to her evil conduct, henceforth 
 pursue his own path of honorable, active, and useful life. 
 
 " Must I make myself wretched because a despicable 
 woman has committed a sin? All I want, is to find a way 
 out from the situation in which she has brought me. And I 
 will find it," he added, getting more and more determined. 
 " I am not the first, nor the second." And not speaking of 
 the historical examples, beginning with " La Belle He'lene " 
 of Menelaus, which had recently been brought to all their 
 memories, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch went over in his mind a 
 whole series of contemporary episodes, where husbands of 
 the highest position had been obliged to mourn the faithless- 
 ness of their wives. 
 
 " Darialof, Poltavsk}-, Prince Karibanof, Count Paskudin, 
 Dramm (yes, even Dramm, honorable, industrious man as 
 he is), Semenof, Tchagin, Sigonin. Suppose we apply the 
 unjust epithet ridicule to these people ; but I never saw any 
 thing in this except their misfortune, and I always pitied 
 them," thought Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, although this also 
 was absolutely false, and he had never felt any pity of this 
 sort, and had only plumed himself the more as he had heard 
 of wives deceiving their husbands. 
 
 " This disgrace is liable to strike an}- one, and now it has 
 struck me. The main thing is, to know how to find a practi- 
 cal way of settling the difficulty." And he called to mind 
 the different ways in which all the men had behaved. 
 
 " Darialof fought a duel " 
 
 Duelling had often been a subject of consideration to 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch when he was a young man, and for 
 the reason that he was a timid man, and he knew it. He 
 could not think without a shudder of having a pistol levelled 
 at him, and never in his life had he made any practice with 
 fire-arms. This instinctive horror caused him to think many 
 times about duelling, and he tried to accustom himself to the 
 thought that he might be obliged some time to expose his 
 life to this danger. Afterwards, when he reached a high 
 social position, these impressions faded away ; but his habit 
 of distrusting his courage was so strong, that, at this time, 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch long deliberated about the matter, 
 turning it over on all sides, and questioning the expediency 
 of a duel, although he knew perfectly well that in any case 
 he should not fight.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 295 
 
 "The state of our society is still so savage," he said, 
 " though it is not so iu England, that very many " 
 
 And in these man//, to whom such a solution was satisfac- 
 tory, thei;e were some for whose opinions Aleksei Aleksan- 
 drovitch had the very highest regard. "Looking at the duel 
 on all sides, to what result does it lead? Let us suppose 
 that I challenge ! " And here Aleksei Aleksandrovitch drew 
 a vivid picture of the night that he would spend after the 
 challenge ; and he imagined the pistol drawn upon him, and 
 he shuddered, and made up his mind that he could never do 
 such a thing. " Let us suppose that I challenge him, that I 
 learn how to shoot," he forced himself to think, " that I am 
 standing, that I pull the trigger," he said to himself, shut- 
 ting his eyes, " and suppose I kill him ; " and he shook his 
 head, to drive away these absurd notions. "What sense 
 would there be in causing a man's death, in order to re- 
 establish relations with a sinful woman and her son? Would 
 the question be settled in any such way? But suppose and 
 this is vastly more likeh* to happen that I am the one 
 killed or wounded. I, an innocent man, the victim, killed 
 or wounded ? Still more unreasonable, worse than that, the 
 challenge to a duel on my part would be absurd, and not 
 an honorable action: besides, don't I know beforehand that 
 my friends would never allow me to fight a duel? would never 
 permit the life of a government official, who is so indispen- 
 sable to Russia, to be exposed to danger? What would hap- 
 pen? I should seem to people to be anxious to win notoriety 
 by a challenge that could lead to no result. It would be 
 dishonorable, it would be false, it would be an act of decep- 
 tion towards others and towards myself. A duel is not to be 
 thought of, and no one expects it of me. My sole aim should 
 be to preserve my reputation, and not to suffer any unneces- 
 sary interruption of my activity." The service of the state, 
 always important in the eyes of Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, 
 now appeared to him of extraordinary importance. 
 
 Having decided against the duel, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 
 began to discuss the question of divorce a second expe- 
 dient which had been employed by several of the pen whom 
 he had iu mind. Examples of divorces in high life were 
 well known to him, but he could not name a single case 
 where the aim of the divorce had been such as he proposed. 
 The husband in each case had sold or given up the faith- 
 less wife ; and the guilty party, who had no right to a second
 
 296 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 
 
 marriage, had entered into relations, imagined to be sanc- 
 tioned, with a new husband. As to legal divorce, which 
 proposed as its end the punishment of the faithless woman, 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch came to the conclusion, as he rea- 
 soned about it, that it was impossible. The coarse, brutal 
 proofs demanded by the law would be, in the complex con- 
 ditions of his life, out of the question for him to furnish : 
 even had they existed, and he could make public use of 
 them, the scandal that would ensue would cause him to fall 
 lower in public opinion than the guilty wife. 
 
 Divorce, moreover, broke off absolutely all dealings be- 
 tween wife and husband, and united her to her paramour. 
 But in Aleksei Aleksandrovitch's heart, in spite of the indif- 
 ference and scorn which he affected to feel towards his wife, 
 there still remained one very keen sentiment, and that was 
 his unwillingness for her to unite her lot absolutely with 
 Vronsky, so that her fault would turn out to her advantage. 
 This thought was so painful to Aleks6i Aleksandrovitch, that 
 he almost groaned aloud with mental pain ; and he got up 
 from his seat, changed his place, and with stern countenance 
 deliberately wrapped his woolly plaid around his thin and 
 chilly legs. 
 
 Besides formal divorce, there could still be separation, as 
 in the case of Karibauof, Paskudin and that gentle Dramm, 
 but this measure had almost the same disadvantages as the 
 other : it was practicall}' to throw his wife into Vronsky's 
 arms. "No: it is impossible impossible," he muttered, 
 again trying to wrap himself up. " I cannot be unhappy, 
 but neither ought she or he to be happy." 
 
 The sensation of jealousy which had pained him while he 
 was still ignorant, came back to him at this moment as he 
 thought of his wife's words ; but it was followed by a differ- 
 ent one, the desire not only that she should not triumph, 
 but that she should receive the reward for her sins. He did 
 not express it, but in the depths of his soul he desired that 
 she should be punished for the way in which she had de- 
 stroyed his peace and honor. 
 
 After passing in review the disadvantages of the duel, the 
 divorce, and the separation, Aleks6i Aleksandrovitch came to 
 the conclusion that there was only one way to escape from his 
 trouble, and that was to keep his wife under his protection, 
 shielding his misfortune from the eyes of the world, employ- 
 ing all possible means to break off the illicit relationship,
 
 ANNA KAlitfNINA. 297, 
 
 and what he did not avow to himself, though it was the 
 principal point punishing his wife's fault. 
 
 " I must let her know, that, in the situation into which she 
 has brought our family, I have come to the conclusion that 
 the statu quo is the only way that seems advisable on all 
 sides ; and that I will agree to preserve, under the strenuous 
 condition that she fulfil my will, and absolutely break off all 
 relations with her paramour." 
 
 Having made this resolution, Alekse'i Aleksandrovitch 
 brought up arguments which sanctioned it in his eyes. 
 " Only by acting in this manner, do I conform absolutely 
 with the law of religion," he said to himself; " only by this 
 reasoning, do 1 refuse to send away the adulterous woman ; 
 and I give her the chance of amending her ways, and like- 
 wise, painful as it will be to me, I consecrate, as it were, 
 my powers to her regeneration and salvation." 
 
 Though Aleksei Aleksandrovitch knew that he could have 
 no influence over his wife, and that the attempts which he 
 should make to convert his wife would be illusory, still, dur- 
 ing the sad moments that he had been passing through, he 
 had not for an instant thought of finding a foot-hold in 
 religion, until now, when he felt that his determination was 
 in accordance with religion : then this religious sanction 
 gave him full comfort and satisfaction. He was consoled 
 with the thought that no one would have the right to blame 
 him for having, in such a trying period of his life, acted in 
 opposition to the religion whose banner he bore aloft in the 
 midst of universal indifference. 
 
 He even went so far at last as to see no reason wh}' his 
 relations with his wife should not remain as they had always 
 been. Of course, it would be impossible for him to feel 
 great confidence in her ; but he saw no reason why he should 
 ruin his whole life, and suffer personally, because she was a 
 bad and faithless wife. 
 
 ''Da! the time will come," he thought, "the time that 
 solves all problems ; and our relations will be brought into the 
 old order, so that I shall not feel the disorder that has broken 
 up the current of my life. She must be unhappy, but I 
 do not see why it is necessary for me to be unhappy too."
 
 298 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 ALEKSEI ALEKSANDROVITCH on his way back to Petersburg 
 not only fully decided on the line of conduct which he should 
 adopt, but even composed in his head a letter to be sent to 
 his wife. When he reached his house, he glanced at the 
 official papers and letters left in charge of the Swiss, and 
 ordered them to be brought into the library. " Shut the 
 door, and let no one in," said he in reply to a question of 
 the Swiss, emphasizing the last order with some satisfaction, 
 which was an evident sign that he was in a better state of 
 mind. 
 
 Alekse"i Aleksandrovitch walked up and down the library 
 once or twice, cracking his knuckles ; and then coming to his 
 huge writing-table, on which his valet-de-chambre, before he 
 went out, had placed six lighted candles, he sat down, and 
 began to examine his writing-materials. Then, leaning his 
 elbow on the table, he bent his head to one side, and after a 
 moment of reflection he began to write. He wrote in French 
 without addressing her by name, employing the pronoun vons 
 [you], which seemed to him to have less coldness and indif- 
 ference than the corresponding character in Russian. 
 
 " At our last interview, I expressed the intention of communicating 
 to you my resolution concerning the subject of our conversation. 
 After mature deliberation, 1 propose to fulfil my promise. This is my 
 decision: however improper your conduct may have been, I do not 
 acknowledge that I have the right to break the bonds which a power 
 Supreme has consecrated. The family cannot be at the mercy of a 
 caprice, of an arbitrary act, even of the crime of one of the parties; 
 and our lives must remain unchanged. This must be so for my sake, 
 for your sake, for the sake of our son. I am persuaded that you have 
 been penitent, that you still are penitent, for the fact that obliges me 
 to write you; that you will aid me to destroy, root and branch, the cause 
 of our estrangement, and to forget the past. In the opposite case, 
 you must comprehend what awaits you, you and your son. I hope to 
 have a complete understanding with you at our coming interview. As 
 the summer season is nearly over, you would oblige me by returning 
 to the city as soon as possible, certainly not later than Tuesday. All 
 the necessary measures for your transportation will be taken. I beg 
 you to take notice that I attach a very particular importance to your 
 attention to my demand. 
 
 "A. KAR^NIN. 
 
 " P.S. I enclose in this letter money, which you may need at this 
 particular time."
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 299 
 
 
 
 He re- read his letter, and was satisfied. The sending of 
 the money seemed to him a specially happy thought. There 
 was not an angry word, not a reproach, neither was there 
 any weakness, in it. The essential thing was the golden 
 bridge for their reconciliation. He folded his letter, pressed 
 it with a huge paper-cutter of massive ivory, enclosed it in 
 an envelope together with the money, and rang the bell, 
 feeling that sensation of satisfaction which the perfect work- 
 ing of his epistolary arrangements always gave him. 
 
 tk Give this letter to the courier for delivery to Anna 
 Arkadyevna to-morrow." 
 
 " I will obey your excellency. Will you have tea here in 
 the library? " 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch decided to have his tea brought 
 to him in the library ; and then, still playing with the paper- 
 cutter, he went towards his arm-chair, near which was a 
 shaded lamp, and a French work on cuneiform inscriptions 
 which he had begun. Above the chair, in an oval gilt frame, 
 hung a portrait of Anna, the excellent work of a distinguished 
 painter. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch looked at it. Two eyes, 
 impenetrable to him as they had been on the evening of their 
 attempted explanation, returned his gaze ironically and in- 
 solently. Every thing about this remarkable portrait seemed 
 to Aleksei Aleksandrovitch insupportably insolent and pro- 
 voking, from the black lace on her head and her dark hair, 
 to the white, beautiful hands and the slender fingers cov- 
 ered with rings. After gazing at this portrait for a moment, 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch shuddered, his lips trembled, and 
 with a "6rr " he turned away. Sitting down, he opened his 
 book. He tried to read, but he could not regain the keen in- 
 terest which he had felt before in the cuneiform inscriptions. 
 His eyes looked at the book, but his thoughts were elsewhere. 
 He was thinking, not of his wife, but of a complication which 
 had recently arisen in important matters connected with his 
 official business, and which at present formed the chief inter- 
 est of his service. He felt that he was more than ever mas- 
 ter of this question, and that he could without self-conceit 
 claim that the conception which had taken root in his mind 
 in regard to the causes of this complication, furnished the 
 method of freeing it from all difficulties, confirmed him in 
 his official career, put down his enemies, and thus enabled 
 him to do a signal service to the state. As soon as his ser- 
 vant had brought his tea, and left the room, Aleksei Aleksan-
 
 300 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 
 
 drovitch got up, and went to his writing-table. He took the 
 portfolio which contained his business papers, seized a pencil, 
 and, with a faintly sarcastic smile of self-satisfaction, buried 
 himself in the perusal of the documents relative to the diffi- 
 culty under consideration. The distinguishing trait of Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch as a government official, the one charac- 
 teristic trait which separated him from all other government 
 employes, and which had contributed to his success no less 
 than his moderation, his uprightness, and his self-confidence, 
 was his thorough-going detestation of " red tape," and his 
 sincere desire to avoid, so far as he could, unnecessaiy writ- 
 ing, and to go straight on in accomplishing needful business 
 with all expedition and economy. It happened, that, in the 
 famous Commission of the 2d of June, the question was raised 
 in regard to the flooding of the fields in the Government of 
 Zarai, which formed a part of Aleksei Aleksandrovitch's 
 jurisdiction ; and this question offered a striking example 
 of the few results obtained by official correspondence and 
 expenditure. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch knew that it was a 
 worthy object. The matter had come to him by inheritance 
 from his predecessor in the ministry, and, in fact, had already 
 cost much mone} 7 , and brought no results. When he first 
 took his place in the ministry, he had wished immediately to 
 put his hand to this work, but he did not feel as yet strong 
 enough ; and he perceived that it touched too many interests, 
 and was imprudent : then afterwards, having become involved 
 in other matters, he entirely forgot about it. The fertiliza- 
 tion of the Zarai' fields, like all things, went in its own way 
 by force of inertia. Many people got their living through it, 
 and one family in particular, a very agreeable and musical 
 family : two of the daughters pla} - ed on stringed instruments. 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch knew this family, and had been 
 nuptial godfather 1 when one of the elder daughters was 
 married. 
 
 The opposition to this affair, raised by his enemies in 
 another branch of the ministry, was unjust, in the opinion of 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, because in every ministry there 
 are such cases of impropriety which no one ever thinks of 
 bothering with. But since they had thrown down the gaunt- 
 let, he had boldly accepted the challenge by demanding the 
 appointment of a special Commission for examining and 
 
 1 Foxuzhonnui otets, a mail who lakes the father's place iu the Russian wedding 
 ceremony.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 301 
 
 verifying the labors of the Commissioners on the fertilization 
 of the Zarai fields ; and that he might give no respite to 
 these gentlemen, he also demanded a special Commission 
 for investigating the status and organization of the foreign 
 populations. This last question had likewise been raised by 
 the Committee of the 2d of June, and was energetically sup- 
 ported by Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, on the ground that no 
 delay should be allowed in relieving the deplorable situation 
 of these alien tribes. The most lively discussion arose 
 among the ministries. The ministry, hostile to Aleksei Alek- 
 sandrovitch, proved that the position of the foreign popula- 
 tions was flourishing ; that to meddle with them would be to 
 injure their well-being ; and that, if any fault could be found 
 in regard to the matter, it was due to the neglect of Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch and his ministry, in not carrying out the 
 measures prescribed by law. In order to avenge himself, 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch demanded, first, the appointment of 
 a Committee, whose duty should be to study on the spot the 
 condition of the foreign populations. Secondly, in case their 
 condition should be found such as the official data in the 
 hands of the Committee represented, that a new scientific 
 Commission should be sent to study into the causes of this 
 sad state of things, with the aim of settling it from the (a) 
 political, (b) administrative, (c) economical, (d) ethnograph- 
 ical, (e) physical, and (/) religious point of view. Thirdly, 
 that the hostile ministry should be required to furnish the 
 particulars in regard to the measures taken during the last 
 ten years, to relieve the wretched situation in which these 
 tribes were placed. And fourthly and finally, to explain 
 the fact that they had acted in absolute contradiction to the 
 fundamental and organic law, Volume T, page 18, with 
 reference to Article 36, as was proved by an act of the 
 Committee under numbers 17,015 and 18,308 of the 5th of 
 December, 1863, and the 7th of June, 1804. 
 
 A flush of animation covered Aleksei Aleksandrovitch's 
 face as he rapidly wrote down for his own use a digest of 
 these thoughts. After he had covered a sheet of paper, he 
 rang a bell, and sent a messenger to the Chancellor of State, 
 asking for a few data which were missing. Then he got up, 
 and began to walk up and down the room, looking again at 
 the portrait with a frown and a scornful smile. Then he 
 resumed his book about the cuneiform inscriptions, and 
 found that his interest of the evening before had come back
 
 302 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 to him. He went to bed about eleven o'clock ; and as he 
 lay, still awake, he passed in review the events of the day, 
 and they no longer appeared to him in the same gloomy 
 aspect. 
 
 XV. 
 
 THOUGH Anna obstinately and angi'ily contradicted Vron- 
 sky when he told her that her position was impossible, yet 
 in the bottom of her heart she felt that it was false and dis- 
 honorable, and she longed with all her soul to escape from 
 it. When, in a moment of agitation, she avowed all to her 
 husband as they were returning from the races, notwithstand- 
 ing the pain which it cost her, she felt glad. After Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch left her, she kept repeating to herself, that, 
 at least, all was now explained, and that henceforth there 
 would be no more need of falsehood and deception. This 
 new state of things might be bad, but it would be definite, 
 and at least not equivocal. The pain which her words had 
 cost her husband and herself would have its compensation 
 in this new state of affairs. That very evening Vronsky 
 came to see her, but she did not tell him what had taken 
 place between her husband and herself, although it was 
 needful to tell him, in order that the affair might be definitely 
 settled. 
 
 The next morning when she awoke, her first memory was 
 of the words that she had spoken to her husband ; and they 
 seemed to her so odious, that she could not imagine now how 
 she could have brought herself to say such brutal things, and 
 she could not conceive what the result of them would be. 
 But the words were irrevocable, and Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 
 had departed without replying. " I have seen Vronsky since, 
 and I did not tell him. Even at the moment that he went 
 away, I wanted to hold him back, and to speak ; but I did 
 not, because I felt how strange it was that I did not tell him 
 at the first moment. Why did I have the desire, and yet not 
 speak?" And in reply to this question, she felt her face 
 burn, and she realized that it was shame that kept her from 
 speaking. Her position, which in the evening seemed to her 
 so clear, suddenly presented itself in its true color, and more 
 inextricable than ever. She began to fear the dishonor 
 about which she had not thought before. AVhen she con- 
 sidered what her husband might do to her, the most terrible
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 303 
 
 ideas came to her mind. It occurred to her that at any 
 instant the sheriff 1 might appear to drive her out of house 
 and home, that her shame would be proclaimed to all the 
 world. She asked herself where she could go if they drove 
 her from home, and there was no reply. 
 
 When she thought of Vronsky, she imagined that he did 
 not love her, and that he was already beginning to tire of 
 her, and that she could not impose herself upon him, and 
 she felt angry with him. It seemed to her that the words 
 which she spoke to her husband, and which she incessantly 
 repeated to herself, were spoken so that evei'ybody could 
 hear them, and had heard them. She could not bring her- 
 self to look in the faces of those with whom she lived. She 
 could not bring herself to ring for her maid, and still less to 
 go down and meet her sou and his governess. 
 
 The maid came, and stood long at the door, listening : 
 finally she decided to go to her without a summons. Anna 
 looked at her questioningly, and a look of fear came into her 
 face. The maid apologized, saving that she had come be- 
 cause she thought she heard the bell. She brought a dress 
 and a note. The note was from Betsy, and said that Liza 
 Merkalova and the Baroness Stolz with their adorers, Kaluzh- 
 sky and the old man Stremof , were coming to her house to- 
 day for a game of croquet. " Come and look on, please, as 
 a study of manners. 1 shall expect you," was the conclusion 
 of the note. 
 
 Anna* read the letter, and sighed profoundly. 
 
 "Nothing, nothing, I need nothing," said she to An- 
 nushka, who was arranging the toilet- articles on her dressing- 
 table. " Go away. I will dress myself immediately, and 
 come down. I need nothing." * 
 
 Annushka went out : yet Anna did not begin to dress, but 
 sat in the same attitude, with bent head and folded hands ; 
 and occasionally she would shiver, and begin to make some 
 gesture, to say something, and then fall back into listlessness 
 again. She kept saying, " Bozhe mo'i! Bozhe mo'i!" but the 
 words had no meaning in her mind. The thought of seeking 
 a refuge from her situation in religion, although she never 
 doubted the faith in which she had been trained, seemed 
 to her as strange as to go and ask help of Alekse'i Aleksan- 
 drovitch himself. She knew beforehand that the refuge 
 offei'ed by religion was possible only by the absolute renun- 
 
 1 Uprurfyaiushc/iy, literally director, steward.
 
 304 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 elation of all that represented to her the reason for living. 
 She suffered, and was frightened besides, by a sensation that 
 was new to her experiences hitherto, and which seemed to her 
 to take possession of her inmost soul. She seemed to feel 
 double, just as sometimes eyes, when weary, see double. She 
 knew not whether she feared the future, or desired the past ; 
 and what she desired, she did not know. 
 
 " Ach! what am I doing?" she cried, suddenly feeling a 
 pain in both temples ; and she discovered that she had taken 
 her hair in her two hands, and was pulling it. She got up, 
 and began to walk the floor. 
 
 " The coffee is served, and Mamzd and Serozha are 
 waiting," said Annushka, coming in again, and finding her 
 mistress still undressed. 
 
 " Serozha? what is Serozha doing," suddenly asked Anna, 
 remembering, for the first time this morning, the existence of 
 her son. 
 
 " He is naughty, I think," said Aunushka. 
 
 "How naughty?" 
 
 "He took one of the peaches from the corner cupboard, 
 and ate it all by himself, as it seems." 
 
 The thought of her son suddenly called Anna from the 
 impassive state in which she had been sunk. The sincere, 
 though somewhat exaggerated, role of devoted mother, which 
 she had taken upon herself for a number of years, came back 
 to her mind, and she felt that in this relationship she had a 
 stand-point independent of her relation to her husband and 
 Vronsky. This stand-point was her son. In whatever 
 situation she might be placed, they would not deprive her of 
 him. Her husband might drive her from him, and put her to 
 shame ; Vronsky might turn his back upon her, and resume his 
 former independent life, and here again she felt the feeling 
 of bitter reproach, but she could not leave her son. She had 
 an aim in life ; and she must act, act at once, and take every 
 measure to preserve her relation towards him, so that they 
 could not take him from her. She must take her son, and 
 go off. She must calm herself, and get away from this tor- 
 menting situation. The very thought of an action having 
 reference to her son, and of going away with him, no one 
 knows where, already gave her consolation. 
 
 She dressed in haste, went down-stairs with firm steps, and 
 entered the parlor, where, as usual, she found lunch ready, 
 and Serozha and the governess waiting for her. Serozha,
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 305 
 
 all in white, was standing with bended head near a table 
 under the window, with the expression of concentrated atten- 
 tion which she knew so well, and in which he resembled his 
 father. Bending over, he was busy with some flowers that 
 he had brought in. 
 
 The governess put on a very stern expression. Serozha, 
 as soon as he saw his mother, uttered a sharp cry, which was a 
 frequent custom of his, "Ah, mamma ! " Then he stopped, 
 undecided whether to run to his mother, and let the flowers 
 go, or to finish his bouquet, and to go with them. 
 
 The governess bowed, and began a long and circumstantial 
 account of the naughtiness that Serozha had committed ; but 
 Anna did not hear her. She was thinking whether she should 
 take her with them. " No, I will not. I will go alone with 
 my son." 
 
 "Yes, he is very naughty," said Anna; and, taking the 
 boy by the shoulder, she looked at him with a gentle, not 
 angry, face, and kissed him. " Leave him with me," said she 
 to the wondering governess ; and, not letting go his arm, she 
 sat down to the table where the coffee was waiting. 
 
 "Mamma I I didn't," stammered Serozha, trying 
 to judge by his mother's expression what fate was in store 
 for him after the peach. 
 
 "Serozha," she said as soon as the governess had left the 
 room, " this was naughty. You will not do it again, will you ? 
 Do you love me ? " 
 
 She felt that the tears were standing in her eyes. "Can I 
 not love him?" she asked herself, touched by the boy's 
 happy and radiant face. "And can he join with his father to 
 punish me? Will he not have pity on me?" The tears 
 began to course down her face ; and, in order to hide them, 
 she got up quickly, and hastened, almost running, to the ter- 
 race. 
 
 Clear, cool weather had succeeded the stormy rains of the 
 last few days. 
 
 In spite of the warm sun which shone on the thick foliage 
 of the trees, it was cool in the shade. 
 
 She shivered both from the coolness and from the senti- 
 ment of fear which seized her with new force. 
 
 "Go, go and find Mariette," said she to Serozha, who 
 had followed her ; and then she began to walk up and down 
 on the straw carpet which covered the terrace. She stopped 
 and looked at the tops of the aspens, washed bright by the
 
 306 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 rain, which were gleaming in the warm sun. It seemed to 
 her that every thing, this sky and this foliage, was without 
 pity for her. Arid again, as before breakfast, she felt that 
 mysterious sense in her inmost soul that she was iu a dual 
 state. 
 
 tk l must not, must not think," she said to herself. "I 
 must have courage. Where shall I go? When? Whom 
 shall I take? Da! to Moscow by the evening train, with 
 Annushka and Serozha and only the most necessary things. 
 But first I must write to them both." And she hurried 
 back into the house to her library, sat down at the table, and 
 wrote her husband, 
 
 "After what has passed, I cannot longer remain in your 
 house. I am going away, and I shall take my son. I do not 
 know the laws, and so I do not know with which of us the 
 child should remain ; but I take him with me, because with- 
 out him I cannot live. Be generous : let me have him." 
 
 Till this moment she wrote rapidly and naturally ; but this 
 appeal to a generosity which she had never seen in him, 
 and the need of ending her letter with something affecting, 
 brought her to a halt. 
 
 "1 cannot speak of my fault and my repentance, be- 
 cause " Again she stopped, unable to find the right words. 
 "No," she said, "I can say nothing;" and, tearing up this 
 letter, she began another, in which she excluded any appeal 
 to his generosity. 
 
 She had to write a second letter, to Vronsky. "I have 
 confessed to my husband," she began ; and she sat long in 
 thought, without being able to write more. This was so 
 coarse, so unfeminine ! "And then, what can I write to 
 him?" Again she felt her face burn as she remembered 
 how calm he was, and she felt so vexed with him that she 
 tore the note into little bits. " I cannot write," she said to 
 herself : and, closing her desk, she went up-stairs to tell the 
 governess and the domestics that she was going to Moscow 
 that evening ; and she began to make her preparations. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 IN all the rooms of the datcha, the dvorniks, the gardeners, 
 the valets, were packing up the things. Cupboards and com- 
 modes were cleared of their contents. Twice they had gone
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 307 
 
 to the shop for packing-cord ; half the things were wrapped 
 up in newspapers. Two trunks, travelling-bags, and a bun- 
 dle of plaids, were, standing in the hall. A carriage and two 
 izvoshchiks were waiting in front of the house. Anna, who in 
 the haste of departure had somewhat forgotten her torment, 
 was standing by her library-table, and packing her bag, 
 when Annushka called her attention to the rumble of a car- 
 riage approaching the house. Anna looked out of the win- 
 dow, and saw on the steps Aleksi Aleksandrovitch's courier 
 ringing the front-door bell. 
 
 "Go and see who it is," said she, and then sat down in 
 her chair ; and, folding her hands on her knees, she waited 
 with calm resignation. A lackey brought her a fat packet 
 directed in the handwriting of Alekse"i Aleksandrovitch. 
 
 " The courier was ordered to wait an answej," said he. 
 
 " Very well," she replied ; and as soon as he left the room 
 she opened the packet with trembling fingers. A roll of 
 fresh, new bank-notes, in a wrapper, fell out first. But she 
 unfolded the letter and read it, beginning at the end. " All 
 the necessary measures for your transportation will be taken. 
 ... I attach a very particular importance to your attention 
 to my demand," she read. She took it up a second time, 
 read it all through, and once and again she read it from 
 beginning to end. When she was through, she felt chilled, and 
 had the consciousness that some terrible and unexpected 
 weight was crushing her which she could not throw off. 
 
 That very morning she regretted her confession, and would 
 gladh* have taken back her words. But this letter treated 
 her words as though they had not been spoken, gave her 
 what she desired. And yet it seemed to her more cruel than 
 any thing that she could have imagined. 
 
 " Right, he is right ! " she murmured. " Of course he is 
 always right: he is a Christian, he is magnanimous! Nu! 
 the low, vile man ! No one understands, no one knows, him 
 but me ; and I cannot explain it. People say, ' He is a 
 religious, moral, upright, honorable, intellectual man.' But 
 they have not seen what I have seen ; they don't know how 
 for eight years he has crushed my life, crushed every thing 
 that was vital in me ; how he has never once thought of me 
 as a living woman who must love. They don't know how at 
 every step he has insulted me. and was all the more self-sat- 
 isfied. Have I not striven with all my powers to lead a use- 
 ful life ? Have I not done my best to love him, to love his
 
 308 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 son when I could not love my husband ? But the time came 
 when I could no longer deceive myself. I find that I am a 
 living being ; that I am not to blame ; that God has made 
 me so; that I must love and live. And now what? He 
 might kill me, he might kill him, and I could understand, I 
 could forgive it. But no, he 
 
 " Why should I not have foreseen what he would do? He 
 does exactly in accordance with his despicable character : 
 he stands upon his rights. But I, poor unfortunate, am 
 sunk lower and more irreclaimably than ever towards ruin. 
 ' You must comprehend what awaits you, you and your son,' ' 
 she repeated to herself, remembering a sentence in his letter. 
 "It is a threat that he means to rob me of my son, and 
 doubtless their wretched laws allow it. But, indeed, I do 
 not see why he said that. He has no belief in my love for 
 my son ; or else he is deriding as he always does, in his 
 sarcastic manner is deriding this feeling of mine, for he 
 knows that I will not abandon my son I cannot abandon 
 him ; that without my son, life would be unsupportable, even 
 with him whom I love ; and that to abandon my son, and 
 leave him, I should fall, like the worst of women. This he 
 knows, and knows that I should never have the power to do 
 so. 'Our lives must remain unchanged,' " she continued, 
 remembering another sentence in the letter. " This life was 
 a torture before ; but as time went on, it became worse than 
 ever. What will it be now? And he knows all this, 
 knows that I cannot repent because I breathe, because I 
 love ; he knows that nothing except falsehood and deceit can 
 result from this : but he must needs prolong my torture. I 
 know him, and I know that he swims in perjury like a fish in 
 water. But no : I will not give him this pleasure. I will 
 break this network of lies in which he wants to enwrap me. 
 Come what ma}*, any thing is better than lies. 
 
 ' ' But how ? Bozhe tno'i ! Sozhe moi I Was there ever 
 woman so unhappy as I? 
 
 " No, I will break it! I will break it! " she cried, striv- 
 ing to keep back the tears that would come. And she went 
 to her writing-table to begin another letter. But in the low- 
 est depths of her soul she felt that she had not the power to 
 break the network of circumstances, that she had not the 
 power to escape from the situation in which she was placed, 
 false and dishonorable though it was. 
 
 She sat down at the table ; but, instead of writing, she
 
 ANNA K A It NINA. 309 
 
 folded her arms on the table, and bowed her head upon 
 them, and began to weep like a child, with heaving breast 
 and convulsive sobs. She wept because her visions about 
 the new order of things had vanished forever. She knew 
 that now all things would go on as before, and even worse 
 than before. She felt that her position in society, which she 
 had slighted, and but a short time before counted as dross, 
 was dear to her ; that she should never have the strength to 
 abandon it for the shameful position of a woman who has 
 deserted her husband and son, and joined her lover. She 
 felt that she should never be stronger than herself and her 
 prejudices. She never would know what freedom to love 
 meant, but would be always a guilty woman, constantly 
 threatened by surprise, deceiving her husband for the dis- 
 graceful society of an independent stranger, with whose life 
 she could never join hers. She knew that this would be so, and 
 yet at the same time it was so terrible that she could not ac- 
 knowledge, even to herself, how it would end. And she wept, 
 pouring out her heart as a child sobs who has been punished. 
 
 The steps of a lackey approaching made her tremble ; and, 
 hiding from him her face, she pretended to be writing. 
 
 " The courier would like his answer," said the lackey. 
 
 " His answer? Oh, yes ! " said Anna. "Let him wait. 
 I will ring. 
 
 " What can I write?" she asked herself. " How decide 
 by myself alone? What do I know? What do I want? 
 Whom do I love? " Again it seemed to her that in her soul 
 she felt the dual nature. She drove this thought away, and 
 seized upon the first duty that lay at hand, so that, by forget- 
 ting herself, she might not think of this dual nature, which 
 terrified her. 
 
 "I must see Alekse"i " (thus in thought she called 
 Vronsky) : "he alone can tell me what I must do. I will 
 go to Betsy's. Perhaps I shall find him there." She 
 completely forgot that on the evening before, when she told 
 him that she was not going to the Princess Tverskaia's, he 
 said that he had no wish to go there either. 
 
 She went to the table again, and wrote her husband, 
 
 " I have received your letter. A." 
 
 She rang, and gave it to the lackey. 
 
 " We are not going," said she to Annushka, who was 
 just coming in.
 
 310 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 
 
 " Not going at all? " 
 
 "No, but don't unpack before to-morrow; and have the 
 carriage wait. I am going to the princess's." 
 " What dress shall you wear? " 
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE company which was to meet at the Princess Tver- 
 skaia's, where Anna was invited, was made up of two ladies 
 and their adorers. These two ladies were the leading repre- 
 sentatives of a new and exclusive coterie in Petersburg, and 
 called, in imitation of an imitation, les sept merveilles du monde 
 [the seven wonders of the world]. Both of them belonged 
 to the highest society, but to a circle absolutely hostile to 
 that in which Anna moved. The old Stremof, one of the 
 influential men of the city, and Liza Merkalova's lover, 
 belonged to the faction hostile to Aleksei Aleksandrovitch. 
 Anna, on account of this hostility, did not care to go to 
 Betsy's, and therefore declined her invitation ; but now she 
 decided to go, hoping to find Vronsky there. 
 
 She reached the Princess Tverskaia's before the other 
 guests. 
 
 The moment that she arrived, Vronsky 's valet, who with 
 his curly whiskers might have been taken for a hammer- 
 junker, was at the door, and. raising his cap, he stepped aside 
 to let her pass. When she saw him she remembered that 
 Vronsky had told her that he was not coming, and judged 
 that he had sent his excuses. As she was taking off her 
 wraps in the hall, she heard the valet, who rolled his r's like 
 a kammer-jvnker, say, "From the count to the princess." 
 It occurred to her to ask him where his barin was. It oc- 
 curred to her to go back and write him a note, asking him 
 to come to her, or to go and find him herself. But she could 
 not follow out any of these plans, for the bell had already 
 announced her presence, and one of the princess's lackeys 
 was waiting at the door to usher her into the rooms beyond. 
 
 u The princess is in the garden. Word has been sent to 
 her," said a second lackey in the second room. 
 
 Her position of uncertainty, of darkness, was just the same 
 as at home. It was worse rather, because she could not 
 make any decision, she could not see Vronsky, and she was 
 obliged to remain in the midst of strange and lively society,
 
 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 311 
 
 diametrically opposed to her. But she wore a toilet which 
 she knew was very becoming. She was not alone : she was 
 surrounded by that solemn atmosphere of indolence so famil- 
 iar ; and, on the whole, it was better to be there than at home. 
 She would not be obliged to think what she would do. 
 Things would arrange themselves. 
 
 Betsy came to meet her in a white toilet of the most ex- 
 quisite elegance ; and she greeted her, as usual, with a smile. 
 The Princess Tverskaia was accompanied by Tushkie'vitch, 
 and a young relative who, to the great delight of the provin- 
 cial family to which she belonged, was spending the summer 
 with the famous princess. 
 
 Apparently there was something unnatural in Anna's ap- 
 pearance, for Betsy immediately remarked upon it. 
 
 "I did not sleep well," replied Anna, looking furtively 
 at the lackey, who was coming, as she supposed, to bring the 
 princess Vronsky's note. 
 
 " How glad I am that you came ! " said Betsy. " I am just 
 up, and 1 should like to have a cup of tea before the others 
 come. And you," she said, addressing Tushkievitch, " had 
 better go with Maska and try the kroket-gro-tind, which has 
 just been clipped. We will have time to talk a little while 
 taking our tea. We'll have a coscy chat, won't we?" she 
 added in English, addressing Anna with a smile, and taking 
 her hand. 
 
 " All the more willingly, because I can't stay long. I 
 must call on old Vrede : I have been promising for a hundred 
 years to come and see her," said Anna, to whom the lie, 
 though contrary to her nature, seemed not only simple and 
 easy, but even pleasurable. Why she said a thing that she 
 forgot the second after, she herself could not have told ; 
 she said it at haphazard, so that, in case Vronsky were not 
 coming, she might have a way of escape, and find him else- 
 where : and why she happened to select the name of old 
 Freilina Vrede rather than any other of her acquaintances 
 was likewise inexplicable. But, as events proved, out of all 
 the possible schemes for meeting Vronsky, this was the 
 best. 
 
 " No, I shall not let you go," replied Betsy, scrutinizing 
 Anna's face. " Indeed, if I were not so fond of you, I 
 should be tempted to be vexed with you : anybody would 
 think that you were afraid of my compromising you. Tea 
 in the little salon, if you please," said she to the lackey,
 
 312 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 with a snap of the eyes such as was habitual with her ; and, 
 taking the letter, she began to read it. 
 
 "Aleksei disappoints us (Alexis nous fait faux bond). 
 He writes that he cannot come," said she in French, and 
 in a tone as simple and unaffected as though it had never 
 entered her mind that Vronsky was of any more interest to 
 Anna than as a possible partner in a game of croquet. 
 Anna knew that Betsy knew all ; but, as she heard Betsy 
 speak of him now, she almost brought herself to believe for 
 a moment that she did not know. 
 
 "Ah!" she said simply, as though it was a detail that 
 did not interest her. " How," she continued, still smiling, 
 " could your society compromise me? " 
 
 This manner of hiding a secret, this playing with words, 
 had for Anna, as it has for all women, a great charm. And 
 it was not the necessity of secrecy, or the reason for secrecy, 
 but the process itself, that gave the pleasure. 
 
 "I cannot be more Catholic than the Pope," she said. 
 " Stremof and Liza Merkalova, they are the cream of the 
 cream of society. They are received everywhere. But /" 
 she laid special stress on the / " I have never been severe 
 and intolerant. I simply have not had time." 
 
 " No. But perhaps you prefer not to meet Stremof ? 
 Let him break lances with Aleksei Aleksandrovitch in com- 
 mittee-meetings : that does not concern us. But in society 
 he is as lovely a man as I know, and a terrible hand at 
 croquet. But you shall see him. And you must see how 
 well he plays the absurd part of old lover to Liza. He is 
 very charming. Don't you know Safo Stoltz? She is the 
 latest, absolutely the latest style." 
 
 While Betsy was saying these words, Anna perceived, by 
 her joyous, intelligent eyes, that she saw her embarrassment, 
 and was trying to put her at her ease. They had gone into 
 the little library. 
 
 " I must write a word to Aleksei." And Betsy sat down 
 at her writing-table, and hastily penned a few lines. Then 
 she took out an envelope. " I wrote him to come to dinner. 
 One of my ladies has no partner. See if I am imperative 
 enough. Excuse me if I leave you a moment. Please seal 
 it and direct it : I have some arrangements to make." 
 
 Without a moment's hesitation, Anna took Betsy's seat at 
 the table, and added these words to her note : "I must see 
 you without fail. Come to the Vrede Garden. I will be
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 313 
 
 there at six o'clock." She sealed the letter; and Betsy, 
 coming a moment later, despatched it at once. 
 
 The two ladies took their tea in the cool little salon, and 
 had indeed a cosey chat. They talked about the coming 
 guests, and expressed their judgments upon them, beginning 
 with Liza Merkalova. 
 
 "She is very charming, and I have always liked her," 
 said Anna. 
 
 " You ought to like her. She adores you. Yesterday 
 evening, after the races, she came to see me, and was in 
 despair not to find you. She says that you are a genuine 
 heroine of a romance, and that if she were a man, she would 
 commit a thousand follies for your sake. Stremof told her 
 she did that, even as she was." 
 
 " But explain to me one thing that I never understood," 
 said Anna, after a moment of silence, and in a tone that 
 clearh" showed that she did hot ask an idle question, but that 
 what she wanted explained was more serious than would ap- 
 pear. "Explain to me, what are the relations between her 
 and Prince Kaluzhsky, the man that they call Mishka. I 
 have rarely seen them together. What is their relation ? ' ' 
 
 A look of amusement came into Betsy's eyes, and she 
 looked keenly at Anna. 
 
 "It's a new kind," she replied. "All these ladies have 
 adopted it." 
 
 " Yes, but what are her relations with Kaluzhsky?" 
 
 Betsy, to Anna's surprise, broke into a gale of irresistible 
 laughter. 
 
 " But you are trespassing on the Princess Miagkai'a's prov- 
 ince : it is the question of an enfant terrible." said Betsy, try- 
 ing in vain to restrain her gayety, but again breaking out into 
 that contagious laughter which is the peculiarity of people 
 who rarely laugh. "But you must ask them," she at length 
 managed to say, with the tears running down her cheeks. 
 
 " Nu! you laugh," said Anna, in spite of herself joining 
 in her friend's amusement ; " but I have never been able to 
 understand it at all, and I don't understand what rdle the 
 husband plays." 
 
 "The husband? Liza Merkalova's husband carries her 
 plaid, and is always at her beck and call. But the real 
 meaning of the affair no one cares to know." 
 
 "Are you going to Rolaudaki's fmzdnik? " [festival], 
 said Anna, wishing to change the conversation.
 
 314 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 " I don't think so," replied Betsy ; and not looking at her 
 companion, she carefully poured the fragrant tea into little 
 transparent cups. Then, having handed one to Anna, she 
 rolled a cigarette, and putting it into a silver holder she 
 began to smoke. 
 
 " You see, my position is the best," she began seriously, 
 holding her cup in her hand. " I understand you, and I un- 
 derstand Liza. Liza is one of these na'ive, childlike natures, 
 who cannot distinguish between ill and good, at least, she 
 was so when she was young, and now she knows that this 
 simplicity is becoming to her. Now perhaps she is na'ioe on 
 purpose," said Betsy with a cunning smile. " But all the 
 same, it becomes her. You see, some people look on life from 
 its tragic side, and make themselves miserable ; and others 
 look on it simply, and even gayly. Possibly you are inclined 
 to look on things too tragically." 
 
 " How I should like to know others as well as I know 
 myself ! " said Anna with a serious and pensive look. "Am 
 I worse than others, or better? Worse, I think." 
 
 "You are like a child, an enfant terrible," was Betsy's 
 comment. " But here they are ! " 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 STEPS were heard, and a man's voice, then a woman's 
 voice and laughter, and immediately after the expected 
 guests came in, Safo Stoltz, and a young man called Vaska 
 for short, whose face shone with exuberant health. It was 
 evident that truffles, burgundy, and rich blood-making viands 
 had accomplished their perfect work. Vaska bowed to the 
 two ladies as he came in, but the glance which he vouchsafed 
 them lasted only a second. He followed Safo into the draw- 
 ing-room, and he followed her through the drawing-room, as 
 though he had been tied to her, and he kept his brilliant 
 eyes fastened upon her as though he wished to devour her. 
 Safo Stoltz was a blonde with black eyes. She wore shoes 
 with enormoush" high heels, and she came in with slow, vig- 
 orous steps, and shook hands energetically, like a man. 
 
 Anna had never before met with this new celebrity, and 
 was struck, not only by her beauty, but by the extravagance 
 of her toilet and the boldness of her manners. On her 
 head was a veritable scaffolding of false and natural hair of
 
 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 315 
 
 a lovely golden hue, and of a height corresponding to the 
 mighty proportions of her protuberant and very visible 
 bosom. Her dress was so tightly pulled back, that at every 
 movement it outlined the shape of her limbs ; and involun- 
 tarily the question arose, where under this enormous, totter- 
 ing mountain, did her neat little body, so exposed above, 
 and so tightly laced below, really end ? 
 
 Betsy made haste to present her to Anna. 
 
 " Can you imagine it? We almost ran over two soldiers," 
 she began instantly, winking, smiling, and kicking back her 
 train. " I was coming with Vaska Ach,da! You are 
 not acquainted." And she introduced the young man by 
 his family name," laughing at her mistake in calling him 
 Vaska before strangers. Vaska bowed a second time to 
 Anna, but said nothing to her. He turned to Safo. " The 
 wager is lost. We came first," said he. " You must pay." 
 
 Safo laughed still more. 
 
 " Not now, though." 
 
 " All right : I'll take it by and by." 
 
 "Very well, very well! Ach,da!" she suddenly cried 
 out to the khozyd'ika (the hostess). "I [ forgot stupid 
 that I was ! I bring you a guest : here he is." 
 
 The young guest whom Safo presented, after having for- 
 gotten him, was a guest of such importance, that, notwith- 
 standing his youth, all the ladies rose to receive him. 
 
 This was Safo's new adorer ; and, just as Vaska did, he 
 followed her every step. 
 
 Immediately after came Prince Kaluzhsky and Liza Mer- 
 kalova with Stremof. Liza was a rather thin brunette, with 
 an Oriental, indolent type of countenance, and with ravish- 
 ing, and as everybody said, impenetrable, eyes. The style 
 of her dark dress was absolutely in keeping with her beauty. 
 Anna noticed it, and approved'. Liza was as quiet and un- 
 pretentious as S#fo was loud and obstreperous. 
 
 But Liza, for Anna's taste, was vastly more attractive. 
 Betsy, in speaking of her to Anna, ridiculed her affectation 
 of the manner of an innocent child ; but when Anna saw her, 
 she felt that this was not fair. Liza was really an innocent, 
 gentle, and sweet-tempered woman, a little spoiled. To be 
 sure, her morals were the same as Safo's. She also had in 
 her train two adorers, one young, the other old, who de- 
 voured her with their eyes. But there was something about 
 her better than her surroundings : she was like a diamond of
 
 316 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 the purest water surrounded by glass. The brilliancy shone 
 out of her lovely, enigmatical eyes. The wearied and yet 
 passionate look of her eyes, surrounded by dark circles, 
 struck one by its absolute sincerity. Any one looking into 
 their depths would seem to know her completely ; and to 
 know her, was to love her. At the sight of Anna, her face 
 suddenly lighted up with a happy smile. 
 
 " Ach ! How glad I am to see you ! " she said, as she went 
 up to her. "Yesterday afternoon at the races 1 wanted to 
 get to you, but you had just gone. I was so anxious to see 
 you yesterday especially ! Too bad, wasn't it?" said she, 
 gazing at Anna with a look which seemed to disclose her 
 whole soul. 
 
 " Da! I never would have believed that any thing could 
 be so exciting," replied Anna with some color. 
 
 The company no\y began to get read}- to go to the lawn. 
 
 " I am not going," said Liza, sitting down near Anna. 
 "You aren't going, are you? What pleasure can anyone 
 find in croquet ? ' ' 
 
 "But I am ver} T fond of it," said Anna. 
 
 " Vot! how is it that you don't get ennuyeeJ To look at 
 you is a joy. Y"ou live, but I vegetate." 
 
 ' ' How vegetate ? Da ! they say you have the gayest 
 society in Petersburg," said Anna. 
 
 "Perhaps those who are not of our circle are still more 
 ennnyee. But we, it seems to me, are not happy, but are 
 bored, terribly bored." 
 
 Safo lighted a cigarette, and went to the lawn with the two 
 young people. Betsy and Stremof staid at the tea-table. 
 
 "How bored?" asked Betsy. " Safo says she had a 
 delightful evening with you yesterday." 
 
 ''Ach! how unendurable it was ! " said Liza. " They all 
 came to my house after the races, and it was all so utterly 
 monotonous. They sat on sofas the whole, evening. How 
 could that be delightful ? No ; but what do you do to keep 
 from being bored?" she asked again of Anna. "It is 
 enough to look at you ! Y"ou are evidently a woman who 
 can be happy or unhappy, but never ennuyee. Now explain 
 what you do. " 
 
 'J don't do any thing," said Anna, confused by these per- 
 sistent questions. 
 
 " That is the best way," said Stremof, joining the conver- 
 sation.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 317 
 
 Stremof was a man fifty years old, rather gray, but well 
 preserved, very ugly, but with a face full of character and 
 intelligence. Liza Merkalova was his wife's niece, and he 
 spent with her all his leisure time. Though an enemy of 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch in politics, he endeavored, now that 
 he met Anna in society, to act the man of the world, and be 
 exceedingly amiable to his enemy's wife. 
 
 " The very best way is to do nothing," he continued with 
 his wise smile. " I have been telling you this long time, that, 
 if you don't want to be bored, you must not think that it is 
 possible to be bored ; just as one must not be afraid of not 
 sleeping if he is troubled with insomnia. This is just what 
 Anna Arkadyevna told you." 
 
 " I should be very glad if I had said so," said Anna, " be- 
 cause it is not only witty, it is true." 
 
 " But will you tell me why it is not hard to go to sleep, 
 and not hard to be free from ennui? " 
 
 " To sleep, you must work; and to be happy, you must 
 also work." 
 
 " But how can I work when my labor is useful to no one? 
 But to make believe, I neither can nor will." 
 
 " You are incorrigible," said he, not looking at her, but 
 turning to Anna again. He rarely met her. and could not 
 well speak to her except in the wa}- of small talk ; but he 
 understood how to say light things gracefully, and he asked 
 her when she was going back to Petersburg, and whether she 
 liked the Countess Lidia Ivanovna. And he asked these 
 questions with that manner that showed his desire to be her 
 friend, and to express his consideration and respect. 
 
 " No, don't go, I beg of you," said Liza, when she found 
 that Anna was not intending to stay. Stremof added his 
 persuasions. 
 
 "Too great a contrast," said he, "between our society 
 and old Vrede's ; and then, you will be for her only an object 
 for slander, while here you will only awaken very different 
 sentiments, quite the opposite of slander and ill-feeling." 
 
 Anna remained for a moment in uncertainty. This witt} r 
 man's flattering words, the childlike and nctive sympathy 
 shown her by Liza Merkalova, and all this agreeable social 
 atmosphere, so opposed to what she expected elsewhere, 
 caused her a moment of hesitation. Could she not postpone 
 the terrible moment of explanation? But remembering what 
 she had suffered alone at home when trying to decide, re-
 
 318 ANNA 
 
 membering the pain that she had felt when she pulled her 
 hair with both hands, not knowing what she did, so great was 
 her mental anguish, she took leave, and went. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 VRONSKY, in spite of his worldly life and his apparent fid- 
 elity, was a man who detested confusion. Once, when still a 
 lad in the School of Pages, he found himself short of money, 
 and met with a refusal when he tried to borrow. He vowed 
 that thenceforth he would not expose himself to such a 
 humiliation again, and he kept his word. Therefore, in 
 order to keep his affairs in order, he made, more or less 
 often, according to circumstances, but at least five times 
 a year, an examination of his affairs. He called this 
 "straightening his affairs," or, in French, faire sa lessive. 
 
 The morning after the races, Vronsky woke late, and 
 without stopping to shave, or take his bath, put on his kitel 
 [soldier's linen frock], and, placing his money and bills and 
 paper on the table, proceeded to the work of settling his 
 accounts. Petritsky, knowing that his comrade was likely 
 to be irritable when engaged in such occupation, quietly got 
 up, and slipped out without disturbing him. 
 
 Every man whose existence is complicated readily believes 
 that the complications and tribulations of his life are a per- 
 sonal and private grievance peculiar to himself, and never 
 thinks that others are subjected to the same troubles that he 
 himself is. Thus it seemed to Vronsky. And not without 
 inward pride, and not without reason, he felt that, until the 
 present time, he had done well in avoiding the embarrass- 
 ments to which every one else would have succumbed. But 
 he felt that now it was necessary for him to examine into his 
 affairs, so as not to be embarrassed. 
 
 First, because it was the easiest to settle, Vronsky inves- 
 tigated his pecuniary status. He wrote in his fluent, deli- 
 cate hand, a schedule of all his debts, and found that the 
 total amounted to seventeen thousand rubles, and some odd 
 hundreds, which he let go for the sake of clearness. Count- 
 ing up his available money, he had only eighteen hundred 
 rubles, with no hope of more until the new year. Vronsky 
 next made a classification of his debts, and put them into 
 three categories : first, the urgent debts, or, in other words,
 
 A XX A KAUtfXIXA. 319 
 
 those that required ready money, so that, in case of requisi- 
 tion, there might not be a moment of delay. These amounted 
 to four thousand rubles, fifteen hundred for his horse, 
 and twenty-five hundred as a guaranty for his young com- 
 rade, Veuevsky, who had, in Vronsky's company, lost this 
 amount in playing with a shuler [one who cheats at cards]. 
 Vronsky, at the time, did not want to hand over the money, 
 though he had it with him ; but Venevsky and Yashvin in- 
 sisted on paying it, rather than Vronsky, who had not been 
 playing. This was all very well ; but Vronsky knew that in 
 this disgraceful affair, in which his only share was to be 
 guarant3' for Venevsky, it was necessary to have these 
 twenty-five hundred rubles ready to throw at the rascal's 
 head, and not to have any words with him. Thus, he had to 
 reckon the category of urgent debts as four thousand rubles. 
 
 In the second category, were eight thousand rubles of 
 debts, and these were less imperative. These were what he 
 owed on his stable account, for oats and hay, to his English 
 trainer, and other incidentals. At a pinch, two thoflsand 
 would suffice. The remaining debts were to his tailor, and 
 other furnishers ; and they could wait. In conclusion, he 
 found that he needed for immediate use, six thousand rubles, 
 and he had only eighteen hundred. 
 
 For a man with an income of a hundred thousand rubles, 
 as people supposed Vronsky to have, these debts would 
 be a mere bagatelle; but the fact was, that he had not an 
 income of a hundred thousand rubles. The large paternal 
 estate, realizing two hundred thousand rubles a year, had 
 been divided between the two brothers. But when the elder 
 brother, laden with debts, married the Princess Varia Tchir- 
 kovai'a, the daughter of a Dekabrist, 1 who brought him no 
 fortune, Aleksei yielded him his share of the inheritance, 
 reserving only an income of twenty-five thousand rubles. 
 He told his brother that this would be sufficient for him until 
 he married, which he thought would never happen. His 
 brother, the colonel of one of the most expensive regiments 
 in the service, could not refuse this gift. His mother, who 
 possessed an independent fortune, gave her younger sou a 
 yearly allowance of twenty thousand rubles ; and Aleksei 
 spent the whole. Afterwards the countess, angry with him 
 on account of his departure from Moscow, and his disgrace- 
 
 1 The Pekabrists wore the revolutionists of December, 1825, the time of the acces- 
 sion of the Emperor Nicholas.
 
 320 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 ful amour, ceased to remit to him his allowance. So that 
 Vronsky, living on a foi^-five-thousand-ruble footing, now 
 found himself reduced to only twenty-five thousand. He 
 could not apply to his mother to help him out of his difficulty, 
 for the letter which he had just received from her angered him 
 by the allusions which it contained : she was ready, it said, to 
 help him along in society, or to advance him in his career, 
 but not in this present life which was scandalizing all the 
 best people. His mother's attempt to bribe him wounded 
 him in the tenderest spot in his heart, and he felt more cold- 
 ly towards her than ever. He could not retract his magnani- 
 mous promise given to his brother ; although he felt now, in 
 view of his rather uncertain relationship with Madame Ka- 
 re"nina, that his magnanimous promise had been given too 
 hastily, and that, even though he were not married, the 
 hundred thousand rubles might stand him in good stead. 
 He was prevented from retracting his promise only by the 
 memory of his brother's wife, the gentle, excellent Varia, 
 who ftlways made him understand that she should not forget- 
 his generosity, and never cease to appreciate it. It would 
 be as impossible as to strike a woman, to steal, or to lie. 
 There was only one possible and practicable thing, and Vron- 
 sky adopted it without a moment's hesitation, to borrow 
 ten thousand rubles of a usurer, which would offer no dif- 
 ficulties, to reduce his expenses, and to sell his race-horses. 
 Having decided upon this, he wrote a letter to Rolandaki, 
 who had many times offered to buy his stud. Then he sent 
 for his English trainer and the usurer, and devoted the 
 money which he had on hand to various accounts. Having 
 finished this labor, he wrote a cold and sharp note to his 
 mother ; and then taking from his portfolio Anna's last three 
 letters, he re-read them, burned them, and, remembering his 
 last conversation with her, fell into deep meditation. 
 
 XX. 
 
 VRONSKY'S life was especially happy, because he had 
 formed a special code of rules, which never failed to regulate 
 what he ought to do, and what he ought not to do. 
 
 This code applied to a very small circle of duties, but they 
 were strictly determined ; and as \ r ronsky never had occa- 
 sion to go outside of this circle, he had never been obliged
 
 ANNA KABtiNINA. 321 
 
 to hesitate about his course of action. This code prescribed 
 unfailingly, that it was necessary to pay gambling- debts, but 
 not his tailor's bills ; that it was not possible to tell lies, ex- 
 cept to women ; that the only persons legitimately open to 
 deceit were husbands ; that insults could be committed, but 
 never pardoned. 
 
 All these precepts might be wrong and illogical, but they 
 were indispensable ; and, while fulfilling them, Vronsky felt 
 that he was calm, and had the right to hold his head high. 
 Since his intimacy with Anna, however, Vronsky began to 
 perceive that his code was not complete on all sides ; and, as 
 the condition of his life had changed, he no longer found 
 any reply to his doubts, and even began to hesitate about the 
 future. 
 
 Until the present time his relations with Anna and her 
 husband had been, on his part, simple and clear: they were 
 in harmony with the code which guided him. She was an 
 honorable woman, who had given him her love, and he loved 
 her, and therefore she had every imaginable right to his 
 respect, even more than if she had been his legal wife. He 
 would have given his right hand sooner than permit himself 
 a word or an allusion that might wound her, or any thing 
 that could seem derogatory to the esteem and respect upon 
 which, as a woman, she ought to count. 
 
 His relations with society were not less clearly defined. 
 All might know or suspect his relations with her, but no 
 one should dare to speak of it. At the first hint, he was pre- 
 pared to cause the speaker to hold his peace, and to respect 
 the imaginary honor of the woman whom he loved. 
 
 Still more clear were his relations to the husband : from 
 the first moment when Anna gave him her love he prescribed 
 to her his own law, without fear of contradiction. The hus- 
 band was merely a useless, disagreeable person. Without 
 doubt, he was in an awkward position ; but what could be 
 done about it ? The only right that was left him was to seek 
 satisfaction with arms in their hands, and for this Vronsky 
 was wholly willing. 
 
 These last few days, however, had brought new compli- 
 cations, and Vronsky was not prepared to settle them. Only 
 the evening before, Anna had confessed that she was in 
 trouble ; and he knew that she expected him to make some 
 move, but the ruling principles of his life gave him no clew 
 as to what he ought to do. At the first moment, when she
 
 322 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 told him her situation, his heart bade him elope with her. 
 He said this, but now oil reflection he saw clearly that it 
 would be better not to do so ; but at the same time he was 
 alarmed and perplexed. 
 
 "If I urge her to leave her husband, it would mean, 
 unite her life with mine. Am I ready for that? How can I 
 elope with her when I have not any money? Let us admit 
 that I can get it ; but how can I take her away while I 
 am connected with the service? If I should decide upon 
 this, I should have to get money, and throw up my com- 
 mission." 
 
 And he fell into thought. The question of resigning, or 
 not, brought him face to face with another interest of his 
 life known only to himself, though it formed the principal 
 spur to his action. 
 
 Ambition had been the dream of his childhood and youth, 
 a dream which he did not confess to himself, but which was 
 nevertheless so strong that it fought with his love. His first 
 advances in society, and in his military career, had been 
 brilliant, but two years before he had made a serious blun- 
 der. Wishing to show his independence, and to cause a 
 sensation, he refused a promotion offered him, imagining 
 that his refusal would put a still higher value upon him. 
 But it seemed that he was too confident, and since then he 
 had been neglected. He found himself reduced nolens volens 
 to the position of an independent man, who asked for noth- 
 ing, and could not take it amiss if he were left in peace to 
 amuse himself as he pleased. In reality, as the year went 
 on, and since his return from Moscow, his independence 
 weighed upon him. He felt that many people were begin- 
 ning to think that he was incapable of doing any thing, in- 
 stead of a good, honorable fellow, capable of doing any thing, 
 but not caring to. 
 
 His relations with Madame Karnina, by attracting atten- 
 tion to him, for a time calmed the gnawings of the worm of 
 ambition, but lately this worm had begun to gnaw with re- 
 newed energy. Serpukhovskoi the friend of his childhood, 
 belonging to his own circle, a chum of his in the School of 
 Pages, who had graduated with him, who had been his rival 
 in the class-room and in gymnasium, in his pranks and in 
 his ambitions had just returned from Central Asia, where 
 he had advanced two steps (two tchins) on the ladder of 
 promotion, and won honors rarely given to such a young
 
 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 323 
 
 general. He was now in Petersburg, and people spoke of 
 him as a new rising star of the first magnitude. 
 
 Just Vronsky's age, and his intimate friend, he was a 
 general, and was expecting an appointment which would give 
 him great influence in the affairs of the country ; while Vrou- 
 sky, though he was independent and brilliant, and loved by 
 a lovel}' woman, was only a cavalry captain, whom they 
 allowed to remain as he was, and do as he pleased. 
 
 "Of course," he said to himself, "I am not envious of 
 Serpukhovskoi ; but his promotion proves that a man like me 
 only needs to bide his time in order to make a rapid rise in 
 his profession. It is scarcely three years ago that he was 
 in the same position as I am now. If I left the service, I 
 should burn my ships. If I stay in the service, I lose noth- 
 ing : did she not herself tell me that she did not want to 
 change her position ? And can I, sure of her love, be envi- 
 ous of Serpukhovskoi?" 
 
 And, slowly twisting his mustache, he arose from the 
 table, and began to walk up and down the room. His eyes 
 shone with extraordinary brilliancy ; and he was conscious of 
 that calm, even, and joyous state of mind that he always felt 
 after regulating his accounts. All was now clear and orderly 
 as ever. He shaved, took a cold-water bath, dressed, and 
 prepared to go out. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 "I WAS coming for you," said Petritsky, entering the 
 room. " Your accounts took a long time to-day, didn't they? 
 Are you through?" 
 
 "All through," said Vronsky, smiling only with his eyes, 
 and continuing to twist the ends of his mustache deliberately, 
 as though, after this work of regulation were accomplished, 
 any rash and quick motion might destroy it. 
 
 " You always come out of this operation as from a bath," 
 said Petritsky. " I come from Gritska's. They are waiting 
 for you." 
 
 Their colonel's name was Demin, but they all called him 
 Gritska, the diminutive of Grigorie. 
 
 Vronsky looked at his comrade without replying: his 
 thoughts were elsewhere. 
 
 "Z>a/ then that music is at his house?" he remarked, hear- 
 ing the well-known sounds of waltzes and polkas, played by
 
 324 ANNA KAItfiNINA. 
 
 a military band at some distance. " What is the celebra- 
 tion?" 
 
 " Serpukhovskoi has come." 
 
 "Ah ! " said Vronsky, " I did not know it." The smile in 
 his eyes was brighter than ever. He had himself elected to 
 sacrifice his ambition to his love, and again he argued that 
 he was happy in his choice. He therefore could feel neither 
 envy at Serpukhovskoi, nor vexation because he, returning to 
 the regiment, had not come first to see him. 
 
 " Ah ! I am very glad." 
 
 Colonel Demin lived in a vast seignorial mansion. When 
 Vronsky arrived, he found all the company assembled on the 
 lower front balcony. What first struck his eyes as he 
 reached the door were the singers of the regiment, in summer 
 kitels, grouped around a keg of vodka, and the healthy, 
 jovial face of the colonel surrounded by his officers. He 
 was standing on the front step of the balcony, screaming 
 louder than the music, which was playing one of Offenbach's 
 quadrilles. He was giving some orders and gesticulating to 
 a group of soldiers on one side. A group of soldiers, the 
 vdkhmistr [sergeant], and a few non-commissioned officers, 
 reached the balcony at the same instant with Vronsky. The 
 colonel, who had been to the table, returned with a glass of 
 champagne to the front steps, and proposed the toast, 
 
 "To our old comrade, the brave general Prince Serpu- 
 khovskoi. Hurrah!" 
 
 Behind the colonel came Serpukhovskoi, smiling, with a 
 glass in his hand. 
 
 "You are alwaj's young, Bondarenko," said he to the 
 vdkhmistr. a ruddy-cheeked soldier lad, who stood directly in 
 front of him, in the front row. 
 
 Vrousky had not seen Serpukhovskoi for three j-ears. He 
 had grown older, and wore whiskers, but his regular and 
 handsome features were not more striking than the nobility 
 and gentleness of his whole bearing. The only change that 
 Vronsky noted in him was the slight but constant radiance 
 which can generally be seen in the faces of people who have 
 succeeded, and made everybody else believe in their success. 
 Vronsky had seen it in other people, and now he detected it 
 in Serpukhovskoi. 
 
 As he descended the steps he caught sight of Vronsky, and 
 a smile of joy irradiated his face. He nodded to him, lifting 
 his wine-cup as a greeting, and at the same time to signify
 
 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 325 
 
 that first he must drink with the vdkhmistr, who, standing 
 perfectly straight, had puckered his lips for the kiss. 
 
 t; Nu ! here he is ! " cried the colonel ; " but Yashvin was 
 telling me that you were in one of your bad humors." 
 
 Serpukhovskoi, having kissed the vdkhmistr' 's moist, fresh 
 lips, wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, and came to 
 Vronsky. "Nu! how glad I am ! " he said, shaking hands, 
 and drawing him to one side. 
 
 "Bring him along," cried the colonel to Yashvin, point- 
 ing to Vronsky, and descending to join the soldiers. 
 
 " Why didn't you come to the races yesterday? I expect- 
 ed to see you," said Vrousky to Serpukhovskoi, studying his 
 face. 
 
 " I did come, but too late. Excuse me," he said; and, 
 turning to his adjutant, " Please have this distributed with 
 my thanks : only have it get to the men." 
 
 And he hurriedly took out of his pocket-book three hun- 
 dred-ruble notes, and handed them to him. 
 
 "Vrousky, will you have something to eat or drink?" 
 asked Yashvin. " Hey ! bring something to the count here. 
 There, now, drink this." 
 
 The feasting at the colonel's lasted a long time. They 
 drank a great deal. They toasted Serpukhovskoi, and car- 
 ried him on their shoulders. Then the colonel and Petritsky 
 danced a Russian dance, while the regimental singers made 
 the music ; and when he was tired, he sat down on a bench 
 near the door, and tried to prove to Yashvin, Russia's superi- 
 ority over Prussia, especially in cavalry-charges ; and the 
 ga}'ety calmed down for a moment. Serpukhovskoi went 
 into the house to wash his hands, and found Vronsky in the 
 lavatory. Vronsky was pouring on the water. He had taken 
 off his kitel, and was sousing his head and his handsome neck 
 under the faucet, and rubbing them with his hands. When 
 he had finished his ablutions, he sat down by Serpukhovskoi 
 on a divcmtchik [a small sofa], and a conversation very in- 
 teresting to both parties arose between them. 
 
 "I have learned all about you through my wife," said 
 Serpukhovskoi. " I am glad that you see her so often." 
 
 " She is a friend of Varia's, and they are the only women 
 in Petersburg that I care to see," said Vronsky with a smile. 
 He smiled because he foresaw on what subject the conversa- 
 tion would turn, and it was not displeasing to him. 
 
 " The only ones? " repeated Serpukhovskoi, also smiling.
 
 326 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 " Yes ; and I, too, know all about YOU, Tmfc not through 
 your wife only," said Vronsky, cutting short, by the sud- 
 denly stern expression of his face, the allusion ; " and I am 
 very glad at your success, but not the least surprised. T 
 expected even more." 
 
 Serpukhovskoi smiled again. This flattering opini 
 him pleased him, and he saw no reason to hide it. 
 
 " I on the contrary, I confess frankly, expected less. But 
 I am glad, very glad. I am ambitious : it is my weakness, 
 and I confess it." 
 
 " Perhaps you wouldn't confess it if you weren't success- 
 ful," suggested Vronsky. 
 
 " I think so," replied Serpukhovskoi'. " I will not say that 
 life would not be worth living without it, but it would be 
 tiresome. Of course I may deceive myself, but it seems to 
 ine that I possess the qualifications necessary to the sphere of 
 activity which I have chosen, and that in my hands power 
 of any sort soever would be better placed than in the hands of 
 many whom I know," said Serpukhovskoi, with the radiant 
 expression of success ; " and therefore, the nearer I am to 
 power, the moi'e contented I feel." 
 
 "Perhaps this is true for you, but not for everybody. I 
 used to think so, and yet I live, and no longer find that am- 
 bition is the only aim of existence." 
 
 " Vot ono! vot ono! " cried Serpukhovskoi, laughing. ' I 
 began by saying that I heard about you, about your refusal 
 of course I approved of you. There is a way for every 
 thing ; and I think that } r our action itself was well, but you 
 did not do it in the right way." 
 
 " What is done, is done ; and you know I never go back on 
 what I have done. Besides, I am very well fixed." 
 
 " Very well for a time. But you will not he contented 
 so forever. I do not refer to your brother. He a very 
 good fellow just like this host of ours. Hark ! hear that? " 
 he added, hearing the shouts and hurrahs. " He may be 
 happy, but this will not satisfy you." 
 
 " I don't say that I am satisfied." 
 
 "Da! and not this alone. Such men as you are neces- 
 sary ! " 
 
 "To whom?" 
 
 "To whom? to society; to Russia. Russia needs men; 
 she needs a party ; otherwise all is going, and will go, to the 
 dogs."
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 327 
 
 " "\Vhat do you mean? Bertenef s party against the Rus- 
 sian communists? " 
 
 " No," said Serpukhovskoi, with a grimace of vexation 
 that he should be accused of any such nonsense. "Tout gaest 
 une blague! [All that is fudge]. This always has been, and 
 always will be. There aren't an}* communists. But in- 
 triguing people must needs invent some malignant dangerous 
 party. It's an old joke. No, a powerful party is needed, of 
 independent men, like you and me." 
 
 " But why " Vronsky named several influential men 
 " but wh\- aren't they among the independents? " 
 
 " Simply because they had not, through birth, an independ- 
 ent position, or a name, and have not lived near the sun, as 
 we have. They can be bought by money or honors. And to 
 maintain themselves, the}- must invent a direction ; and they 
 must follow this direction, to which they do not attach any 
 meaning, or which may even be bad. And all this direction 
 is only a means for providing them a home at the expense of 
 the crown and certain salaries. Cela n'est pas plus Jin que 
 $a [That is all that it amounts to] when you look at their 
 cards. Maybe I am worse or more foolish than they, though 
 I don't see why I ought to be worse than they. But I have, 
 and you have, the one inestimable advantage, that it is harder 
 to buy us. And men of this stamp are more than ever neces- 
 sary." 
 
 Vronsky listened attentively, not only because of the 
 meaning of his words, but because of their connection with 
 Serpukhovskoi's own case, who was about to engage in the 
 struggle, and was entering into that official world, with its 
 sympathies and antipathies, while he was occupied only with 
 the interests of his squadron. Vronsky perceived how strong 
 Serpukhovskoi might be, with his unfailing aptitude for in- 
 vention, his quickness of comprehension, his intellect, and 
 fluent speech, so rarely met with in the circle in which he 
 lived. And, shameful as it was, he felt a twinge of envy. 
 
 " All that I need for this, is the one essential thing," said 
 he, " the desire for power. I had it, but it is gone." 
 
 "Excuse me: I don't believe you," said Serpukovsko'i, 
 smiling. 
 
 "No: it is true, true now to speak sincerely," per- 
 sisted Vronsky. 
 
 ' k Yes ; true now, that is another affair ; this now will 
 not last forever."
 
 328 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 "Perhaps." , 
 
 "You say perhaps; and I tell you certainly not," contin- 
 ued Serpukhovskoi, as though he divined his thought 
 " And that is why I wanted to see you. You declined, as 
 you felt was necessary. I understand that ; but it is not 
 necessary for you to stick to it [per sever irovat~\. All I ask 
 of }'ou is carte blanche for the future. I am not your patron ; 
 and yet why should I not take you under my protection? 
 Have you not often done as much for me? I hope that 
 our friendship stands above that. Da! " said he, smiling at 
 him tenderly, like a woman. " Give me carte blanche. Come 
 out of your regiment, and I will push you so that it won't be 
 known." 
 
 " But understand that I want nothing except that all 
 should be as it has been." 
 
 Serpukhovskoi arose, and stood facing him. " You say 
 that all must be as it has been. I understand you ; but 
 listen to me. We are of the same age : maybe you have 
 known more women than I." His smile and his gesture 
 told Vronsk}* that he would touch gently and delicately on 
 the tender spot. " But I am married ; and, in faith, as some 
 one or other wrote, he who knows only his wife, and loves 
 her, understands all women better than if he had known 
 a thousand." 
 
 "Coming directly," cried Vronsky to an officer who 
 looked in at the room, and said he was sent by the colonel. 
 
 Vronsky now felt curious to hear and to know what Ser- 
 pukhovskoi would say to him. 
 
 "And this is my idea: Women are the principal stum- 
 bling-block in the way of a man's activity. It is hard to love 
 a woman, and to do any thing else. There is only one way 
 to love with comfort, and without hinderance ; and that is, to 
 marry. And how to explain to you what I mean," con- 
 tinued Serpukhovskoi, who was fond of metaphors, " da! 
 suppose you had to carry a fardeau [burden] : your hands 
 are of no good until they fasten the fardeau on your back. 
 And so it is with marriage. And I found this out when 
 I got married. My hands suddenly became free. But to 
 carry this fardeau without marriage, your hands will be so 
 full that you can't do any thing. Look at Mazankof, 
 Krupof. They ruined their careers through women." 
 
 " But what women ! " said Vronsky, remembering the 
 French woman and the actress on whom these two men had 
 thrown themselves away.
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 329 
 
 " The higher the woman is in the social scale, the greater 
 the difficulty. It is just the same as not to carry your 
 fardeau in your hands, but to tear it from some other man." 
 
 "You have never loved," murmured Vronsky, looking 
 straight ahead, and thinking of Anna. 
 
 " Perhaps ; but you think of what I have told you. And 
 one thing more : women are all more material than men. 
 We make something immense out of love, but they are all 
 terre-ci-terre " [of the earth, earthy]. 
 
 "Right away, right away! " he cried to the lackey, who 
 was coming into the room. But the lackey was not a mes- 
 senger for him, as he supposed. The lackey brought Vronsky 
 a note. 
 
 " A man brought this from the Princess Tverskai'a." 
 
 Vronsky hastily read the note, and grew red in the face. 
 
 " I have a headache. I am going home," said he to 
 Serpukhovskoi. 
 
 " Nti, proshcha'i! will you give me carte blanche? " 
 
 ' ' We will talk about it by and by. I will meet you in 
 Petersburg." 
 
 XXII. 
 
 IT was already six o'clock ; and in order not to miss his 
 appointment, or to go with his own horses, which everybody 
 knew, Vronsky engaged Yashvin's hired carriage, and told 
 the izvoshchik to drive with all speed. It was a spacious old 
 carriage, with room for four. He sat in one corner, stretched 
 his legs out on the empty seat, and began to think. 
 
 The confused consciousness of the order in which he had 
 regulated his affairs ; the confused recollection of the friend- 
 ship and flattery of Serpukhofskoi, who assured him that he 
 was an indispensable man ; and most of all, the expectation 
 of the coming interview, conspired to give him a keen sense 
 of the joy of living. This impression was so powerful that 
 he could not restrain his joy. He stretched his legs, threw 
 one knee over the other, felt for the contusion that his fall 
 had given him the evening before, and drew several long 
 breaths with full lungs. 
 
 "Good, very good," said he to himself. Oftentimes be- 
 fore he had felt a pleasure in the possession of his body, but 
 never had he so loved it, or loved himself, as now. It was 
 even pleasurable to feel the slight soreness in his leg, pleas-
 
 330 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 
 
 urable was the mouse-like sensation of motion on his breast 
 when he breathed. 
 
 This same bright, cool, August day, which so painfully im- 
 pressed Anna, stimulated, vitalized him, and refreshed his 
 face and neck, which still burned from the re-action after his 
 bath. The odor of brilliantine from his whiskers seemed 
 pleasant to him in this fresh atmosphere. Every thing that he 
 saw from the carriage- window seemed to him in this cool, pure 
 air, in this pale light of the dying day, fresh, joyous, and 
 healthful, like himself. And the house-tops shining in the 
 rays'of the setting sun, the outlines of the fences and the 
 edifices along the ways, and the shapes of occasional pedes- 
 trians and carriages hunying hither and thither, and the 
 motionless leaves, and the lawns, and the fields with their 
 straight-cut rows of potato-hills, and the oblique shadows 
 cast by the houses and the trees, and even by the potato-hills, 
 all was as beautiful as an exquisite landscape just from 
 the master's hand, and freshly varnished. 
 
 "Make haste, make haste!" he shouted, pushing up 
 through the window a three-ruble note to the driver, who 
 turned round, and looked down towards him. 
 
 The izvoshchik's hand arranged something about the lan- 
 tern, then he applied the knout to his horses, and the carriage 
 whirled rapidty over the even pavement. 
 
 "I need nothing, nothing, but this pleasure," he thought, 
 as his 63-68 rested on the knob of the bell, fastened between 
 the windows, and he imagined Anna as she seemed when last 
 he saw her. ''The farther I go, the more I love her. Ah ! 
 here is the garden of the Vrede datcha. Where shall I find 
 her? How? Why did she make this appointment? and why 
 did she write on Betsy's note?" This struck him for the 
 first time, but he had no time to think about it. He stopped 
 the driver before they reached the drive- way, and, getting 
 out of the carriage, he went up the walk which led to the 
 house. There was no one on the avenue ; but going a little 
 farther, and looking straight ahead, he saw her. Her face was 
 covered with a thick veil ; but with a joyful glance, he recog- 
 nized her immediately, by her graceful motion as she walked, 
 by the slope of her shoulders, and the pose of her head, and 
 he felt as though an electric shock had passed through him. 
 With new strength he felt the joy of life and of action, even 
 from the movements of his limbs to the easy motion of res- 
 piration. When they neared each other, she eagerly seized 
 his hand.
 
 ANNA RA&NINA. 881 
 
 " You are not angry because I asked YOU to come? I ab- 
 solutely needed to see you,'*' she said ; and the serious and 
 stern closing of the lips, which he saw under the veil, quickly 
 put an end to his jubilant spirits. 
 
 " I angry? but why did you come? when?" 
 
 " No matter about that," said she, taking Vronsky's arm. 
 " Come : I must have a talk with you." 
 
 He perceived that something had happened, and that their 
 interview would not be joyful. While with her, he could not 
 control his will. Though he did not know what her agitation 
 portended, yet he felt that it had taken possession of him 
 also. 
 
 tl What is it? What is the matter? " he asked, pressing 
 her arm, and trying to read her thoughts by her face. 
 
 She went a few steps in silence, so as to get her breath ; 
 then she suddenly halted. 
 
 " I did not tell you last evening," she began, breathing 
 fast and painfully, "that, coming home with Alekse'i Alek- 
 saudrovitch, I confessed to him eveiy thing I said that I 
 could not be his wife and I told him all." 
 
 He listened, leaning towards her, as though ne wished to 
 lighten for her the difficulty of this confidence ; but as soon 
 as she finished speaking, he suddenly drew himself up, and 
 his face assumed a haughty and stern expression. 
 
 " Da! da! that was better, a thousand times better," he 
 said. But she did not heed his words, she read his thoughts 
 on his expressive face. She could not know that the expres- 
 sion of his face arose from the first thought that came into 
 his mind, the thought that the duel must now be fought. 
 Never had the thought of a duel entered her head, and the 
 interpretation which she gave to the sudden change in his 
 appearance was quite different. 
 
 Since the arrival of her husband's letter, she felt in the 
 bottom of her heart that all would remain as before ; that 
 she should not have the strength to sacrifice her position in 
 the world, to abandon her son, and join her lover. The 
 morning spent with the Princess Tverskaia confirmed her in 
 this. But the interview with Vronsky seemed to be of vital 
 importance. She hoped that it might change their relations 
 and save her. If, when they first met, he had said decidedly, 
 passionately, without a moment's hesitation, "Leave all, and 
 come with me," she would have even abandoned her son, 
 and gone with him. But their meeting had been the opposite
 
 332 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 of what she expected : he seemed, if any thing, vexed and 
 angry. 
 
 " It was not hard for me at all. It came of its own ac- 
 cord," she said, with a touch of irritation; "and here" 
 she drew her husband's letter from her glove. 
 
 " I understand, I understand," interrupted Vronsky, tak- 
 ing the letter, but not reading it, and trying to calm Anna. 
 "The one thing I wanted, the one thing I prayed for to 
 put an end to this situation, so that I could devote my whole 
 life to your happiness." 
 
 ' ' Why do you say that to me ? ' ' she asked. ' ' Can I doubt 
 it? If I doubted" 
 
 "Who are those?" asked Vronsky abruptly, seeing two 
 ladies coming in their direction. " Perhaps they know us." 
 And he hastily drew Anna with him down a side alley. 
 
 "Ach! it is all the same to me," she said. Her lips 
 trembled, and it seemed to Vronsky that her eyes looked at 
 him from under her veil with strange hatred. 
 
 "As I said, in all this affair, I cannot doubt you. But 
 here is what he wrote me. Read it." And again she halted. 
 Again, as when he first learned of Anna's rupture with her 
 husband, Vronsky, beginning to read this letter, involunta- 
 rily abandoned himself to the impression awakened in him 
 by the thought of his relations to the deceived husband. 
 Now that he had the letter in his hand, he imagined the 
 challenge which he would receive the next da}\ and the duel 
 itself, at the moment when, with the same cool and haughty 
 expression which now set his face, he would stand in front of 
 his adversary, and, having discharged his weapon in the air, 
 would wait the outraged husband's shot. And Serpukhov- 
 sko'i's words flashed through his mind, " Better not tie your- 
 self down ; " and he felt the impossibility of explaining them 
 to her. 
 
 After he read the note, he raised his eyes to her, and there 
 was indecision in his look. She instantly perceived that he 
 had thought this matter over before. She knew that what- 
 ever he said to her, he would not say all that he thought. 
 And her last hope vanished. This was not what she had 
 desired. 
 
 "You see what sort of a man he is," said she with fal- 
 tering voice. " He " 
 
 " Excuse me, but I am glad of this," said Vronsky. inter- 
 rupting. "For Heaven's sake, let me speak," he quickly
 
 ANNA KARNINA. 333 
 
 added, begging her with his look to give him time to finish 
 what he began to say. " I am glad, because this cannot, 
 and never could, go on as he imagines." 
 
 "Why can't it?" demanded Anna, holding back her 
 tears, and not attaching any importance to what he said, 
 for she felt that her fate was already settled. 
 
 It was in Vronsky's mind to say, that after the duel, which 
 he felt was inevitable, this situation must be changed ; but 
 he said something quite different. 
 
 " It cannot go on so. I hope that now you will leave him. 
 I hope" he stumbled and grew red " that you will allow 
 me to take charge of our lives, and regulate them. To- 
 morrow ' ' 
 
 She did not allow him to finish. 
 
 "And my sou!" she cried. "Do you see what he 
 writes ? I must leave him ; but I cannot, and I will not, 
 do that." 
 
 " But which is better, to leave your son, or to continue 
 this humiliating situation?" 
 
 " For whom is it a humiliating situation?" 
 
 " For all of us, and especially for you." 
 
 "You say humiliating! Don't say that. For me that 
 word has no meaning," said she with trembling voice. She 
 could not bear now to have him tell her a falsehood. Her 
 love for him was trembling in the balance, and she wished to 
 love him. " You must know that for me, on that day when I 
 first loved you, ever}' thing was transformed. For me there 
 was one thing, and only one thing, your love. If it is 
 mine, then I feel myself so high, so firm, that nothing can 
 be humiliating to me. I am proud of my position, because 
 proud that proud" She did not say why she was 
 proud. Tears of shame and despair choked her utterance. 
 She stopped, and began to sob. 
 
 He also felt that something rose in his throat. For the 
 first time in his life he felt ready to cry. He could not have 
 said what affected him so. He was sorry for her, and he 
 felt that he could not help her ; and, more than all, he knew 
 that he was the cause of her unhappiness, that he had done 
 something abominable. 
 
 "Then a divorce is impossible?" he asked gently. She 
 shook her head without replying. " Then, could you not 
 take your sou, and leave him? " 
 
 " Yes ; but all this depends on him now. Now I must go
 
 334 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 to him," she said dryly. Her presentiment that all would 
 be as before was verified. 
 
 " I shall be in Petersburg Tuesday, and every thing will 
 be decided." 
 
 " Yes," she repeated. " But we shall not speak any more 
 about that." 
 
 Anna's carriage, which she sent away with the order to 
 come back for her at the railing of the Vrede Garden, was 
 approaching. Anna took leave of Vrousky, and went home. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 THE Commission of the 2d of June, as a general thing, 
 held its sittings on Monday. Aleksei Aleksaudrovitch entered 
 the committee-room, bowed to the members and the president 
 as usual, and took his place, laying his hand on the papers 
 made ready for him. Among the number were the data 
 which he needed, and the notes on the proposition that he 
 intended to submit to the Commission. These notes, however, 
 were not necessary. His grasp of the subject was complete, 
 and he did not need to refresh his memory as to what he was 
 going to say. He knew that when the time came, and he 
 was face to face with his adversary, vainly endeavoring to 
 put on an expression of indifference, his speech would come of 
 itself in better shape than he could now determine. He felt 
 that the meaning of his speech was so great that every word 
 would have its importance. Meantime, as he listened to the 
 reading of the report, he put on a most innocent and inoffen- 
 sive expression. No one seeing his white hands, with their 
 swollen veins, his delicate, long fingers doubling up the two 
 ends of the sheet of white paper lying before him, and Ins 
 expression of weariness, as he sat with head on one side, 
 would have believed it possible, that, in a few moments, from 
 his lips would proceed a speech which would raise a real 
 tempest, cause the members of the Commission to outdo 
 each other in screaming, and oblige the president to call them 
 to order. AVhen the report was finished, Aleksei Aleksan- 
 drovitch, in his weak, shrill voice, said that he had a few 
 observations to .make in regard to the situation of the foreign 
 tribes. Attention was concentrated upon him. Aleksei Alek- 
 sandrovitch cleared his throat, and not looking at his adver- 
 sary, but, as he always did at the beginning of his speeches,
 
 A NX A KARfiyiNA. 835 
 
 addressing the person who sat nearest in front of him, who 
 happened to be a little, insignificant old man, without the 
 slightest importance in the Commission, began to deliver his 
 views. When he reached the matter of the fundamental and 
 organic law, his adversary leaped to his feet, and began to 
 reply. Stremof, who was also a member of the Commission, 
 and also touched to the quick, arose to defend himself ; and 
 the session proved to be excessively stormy. But Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch triumphed, and his proposition was ac- 
 cepted. The three new commissions were appointed, and 
 the next day in certain Petersburg circles this session formed 
 the staple topic of conversation. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 's 
 success far outstripped his anticipations. 
 
 The next morning, which was Tuesday, Karenin, on 
 awaking, recalled with pleasure his success of the day 
 before ; and he could not repress a smile, although he 
 wanted to appear indifferent, when his chief secretary, in 
 order to be agreeable, told him of the rumors which had 
 reached his ears in regard to the proceedings of the com- 
 mission. 
 
 Occupied as he was with the secretary, Aleksei Aleksan- 
 droviteh absolutely forgot that the day was Tuesday, the 
 day set for Anna Arkadyevna's return ; and he was sur- 
 prised and disagreeably impressed when a domestic came 
 to announce that she had come. 
 
 Anna reached Petersburg early in the morning. A car- 
 riage had been sent for her in response to her telegram, and 
 so Aleksei Aleksandrovitch might have known of her com- 
 ing. But when she came, he did not go to receive her. 
 She was told that he had not come down yet, but was 
 busy with his secretary. She bade the servant announce 
 her arrival, and then went to her boudoir, and began to 
 unpack her things, expecting that he would come to her. 
 But an hour passed, and he did not appear. She went to 
 the dining-room, under the pretext of giving some orders, 
 and spoke unusually loud, thinking that he would join her 
 there. But still he did not come, though she heard him go 
 out from the library, and take leave of the secretary. She 
 knew that he generally went out after his conference ; and so 
 she wanted to see him, so that their plan of action might be 
 decided. 
 
 She went into the hall, and finally decided to go to him. 
 She stepped into the library. Dressed in his uniform, ap-
 
 336 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 patently ready to take his departure, he was sitting at a little 
 table, on which his elbows rested. He was wrapped in 
 melancholy thought. She saw him before he noticed her, 
 and she knew that he was thinking of her. 
 
 When he caught sight of her, he started to get up, re- 
 flected, and then, for the first time since Anna had known 
 him, he blushed. Then quickly rising, he advanced towards 
 her, not looking at her face, but at her forehead and hair. 
 He came to her, took her by the hand, and invited her to 
 sit down. 
 
 " I am very glad that you have ccrme," he stammered, sit- 
 ting down near her, arid evidently desiring to talk with her. 
 Several times he began to speak, but hesitated. 
 
 Although she was prepared for this interview, and had 
 made up her mind to defend herself, and accuse him, she did 
 not know what to say, and pitied him. And so the silence 
 lasted some little time. 
 
 " Serozha well ? " at length he asked ; and, without wait- 
 ing for an answer, he added, " I shall not dine at home to- 
 day : I have to go right away." 
 
 " I intended to start for Moscow," said Anna. 
 
 " No : you did very, very well to come home," he replied, 
 and again was silent. 
 
 Seeing that it was beyond his strength to begin the con- 
 versation, she herself began : 
 
 " Aleksel Aleksandrovitch," said she, looking at him, and 
 not dropping her eyes under his gaze, which was still con- 
 centrated on her head-dress, " I am a guilty woman ; I am 
 a wicked woman ; but I am what I have been, what I told 
 you I was, and I have come to tell you that I cannot 
 change." 
 
 " I do not ask for that," he replied instantly, in a decided 
 voice, and looking with an expression of hate straight into 
 her eyes. " I presupposed that." Under the influence of 
 anger, he apparently regained control of all his faculties. 
 "But as I told you then, and wrote you " (he spoke in a 
 sharp, shrill voice), " I now repeat, that I am not obliged to 
 have it thrust into my face. I ignore it. Not all women 
 are so good as you are, to hasten to give their husbands 
 such very pleasant news." He laid a special stress on the 
 word "pleasant" \_priatnoe~\. "I will ignore it for the 
 present, so long as the world does not know, so long as 
 my name is not dishonored. I, therefore, only warn you
 
 ANNA EARtiNINA. 337 
 
 that our relations must remain as they always have been, 
 and that onl}* in case of your compromising yourself, shall I 
 be forced to take measures to protect my honor." 
 
 "But our relations cannot remain as they have been," 
 she said with timid accents, looking at him in terror. 
 
 As she once more saw his undemonstrative gestures, heard 
 his mocking voice with its sharp, childish tones, all the pity 
 that she had begun to feel for him was driven away by the 
 aversion that he inspired, and she had only a feeling of fear, 
 which arose from the fact that she did not see any light in 
 regard to their relations. 
 
 " I cannot be your wife, when I " she began. 
 
 He laughed with a cold and wicked laugh. 
 
 " It must needs be that the manner of life which you have 
 chosen is reflected in your ideas. I have too much esteem 
 or contempt, or rather I esteem your past, and despise your 
 present, too much for me to accept the interpretation which 
 you put upon my words." 
 
 Anna sighed, and bowed her head. 
 
 " Besides. I do not understand how you, having so much 
 independence," he continued, getting rather excited, "and 
 telling \-our husband up and down of your infidelity, and not 
 finding any thing blameworthy in it, as it seems, how you can 
 find any thing blameworthy either in the fulfilment of a wife's 
 duties to her husband." 
 
 " Alekse"i Aleksandrovitch ! What do you require of me? " 
 
 " I require that I may never meet this man here, and that 
 you comport yourself so that neither the world nor our ser- 
 vants can accuse you that }*ou do not see him. It seems 
 to me, that this is little. And in doing this, you will enjoy 
 the rights and fulfil the obligations of an honorable wife. 
 This is all that I have to say to you. Now it is time for me 
 to go. I shall not dine at home." 
 
 He got up, and went to the door. Anna also arose. He 
 silently bowed, and allowed her to pass. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 THE night spent by Levin on the hay-rick was not without 
 its reward. The way in which he administered his estate 
 aroused against him all sorts of interests. Notwithstanding 
 the excellent crops, never, or at least it seemed to him
 
 338 ANNA 
 
 that never, had there been such failure, and such unfriendly 
 relations between him and the muzhiks, as this year ; and 
 now the reasons for this failure, and this animosity, were 
 especially clear to him. The pleasure which he found in 
 work itself, the resulting acquaintance with the muzhiks, the 
 envy which seized him when he saw them and their lives, 
 the desire to lead such a life himself, which on that night 
 hud been not visionary but real, the details necessary to 
 carry out his desire, all this taken together had so changed 
 his views in regard to the management of his estate, that he 
 could not take the same interest as before, and he could not 
 help seeing how these unpleasant relations with the laborers 
 met him at every new undertaking. The herd of improved 
 cows, like Pava ; all the fertilized and ploughed lands ; nine 
 equal fields well planted ; the ninety desyatins, covered with 
 oderiferous dressing ; the deep-drills and other improvements, 
 all was excellent so far as it only concerned himself and the 
 people who were in sympathy with him. But now he clearly 
 saw and his study of the books on rural economy, in which 
 the principal element was found to be the laborer, may have 
 helped him to this conclusion that this present manner of 
 carrying on his estate was only a cruel and wicked struggle 
 between him and the laborers, in which on one side, on his 
 side, was a constant effort to carry out his aspirations for the 
 accomplishment of better models, and on the other side, the 
 natural order of things. In tin's struggle, he saw that on his 
 side, there were effort and lofty purpose, and on the other, no 
 effort or purpose, and that the result was that the estate went 
 from bad to worse : beautiful tools were destroj'ed, beautiful 
 cattle and lands ruined. The principal objection was the 
 energy absolutely wasted in this matter ; but he could not 
 help thinking now, when his thought was laid bare, that the 
 aim of his energies was itself unworthy. In reality, where 
 lay this quarrel? He defended every penny of his own, and 
 he could not help defending them, because he was obliged to 
 use his energies to the utmost, otherwise he would not have 
 wherewithal to pay his laborers, and they defended their 
 right to work lazily and comfortably, in other words, as they 
 had always done. It was for his interests that every laborer 
 should do his very best ; above all, should strive not to break 
 the winnowing-machines, the horse-rakes, so that he might 
 accomplish what he was doing. But the laborer wanted to do 
 his work as easily as possible, with long breathing-spaces for
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 339 
 
 doing nothing and napping and meditating. The present 
 year. Levin found this at every step. He sent to mow the 
 clover for fodder, meaning the bad desyatins, where there 
 promised to be bare spaces mixed with grass, and not fit 
 for seed ; and they would cut his best desyatins, reserved for 
 seed, and allege as excuse that it was the prikashchik' s 
 orders ; and they vexed him the more because the fodder 
 was perfectly easy to distinguish, but he knew that they 
 took this because on these desyatins it was easier work. 
 He sent the winnowing-machine out, and they broke it on 
 the first trial, because some muzhik found it disagreeable to 
 sit on the trestle while the vans were flying over his head. 
 And they told him, ''Don't vex yourself about it: the 
 babul will soon winnow it." They had to give up using 
 the new-fangled ploughs, because the laborer could not get it 
 through his head to let down the shares ; or else bore down 
 so that he tired the horses out, and spoiled the land. The 
 horses got into the wheat-field, because not one muzhik was 
 willing to be night-watchman : and notwithstanding the 
 express commands to the contrary, the laborers took turns 
 OH the night-guard : and Vanka, who had been working all 
 day. fell asleep, and acknowledging his mistake, said, " Volya 
 vaxha " [Do with us as you please]. Three of the best 
 heifers were lost because they were let into the clover-patch 
 without water, and no one would believe that the clover 
 would hurt them ; but they told him for his consolation, that 
 one hundred and twelve head had died in the neighborhood 
 in three days. 
 
 All this was done, not because there was enmity against 
 Levin or his estate. On the contraiy, he knew that they 
 loved him, called him by a title which meant in their lips the 
 highest praise [prosto'i baring. But they did these things 
 simply because they liked to work gayly and idly ; and his 
 interests seemed not only strange and incomprehensible, but 
 also fatally opposed to their own true interests. For a long 
 time Levin had been feeling discontented with his situation. 
 He saw that his canoe was leaking, but he could not find the 
 leaks ; and he did not hunt for them, perhaps on purpose 
 to deceive himself. Nothing would have been left him if 
 .he had allowed his illusions to perish. But now he could not 
 longer deceive himself. His farming was not only no longer 
 interesting, but was disgusting to him, and he could not put 
 his heart in it tiny more.
 
 340 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 To this was added the fact that Kitty Shcherbatskai'a was 
 not more than thirty versts away, and he wanted to see her, 
 and could not. 
 
 Darya Aleksandrovna Oblonskai'a, when he called upon 
 her, invited him to come, to come with the express purpose 
 of renewing his offer to her sister, who, as she pretended to 
 think, now cared for him. Levin himself, after he caught 
 the glimpse of Kitty Shcherbatska'ia, felt that he had not 
 ceased to love her; but he could not go to the Oblonskys', 
 because he knew that she was there. The fact that he had 
 offered himself, and she had refused him, put an impassable 
 bar between them. " I cannot ask her to be my wife, because 
 she could not be the wife of the man whom she wanted," he 
 said to himself. The thought of this made him cold and 
 hostile towards her. "I have not the strength to go and 
 talk with her without a sense of reproach, to look at her with- 
 out angry feelings ; and she would feel the same towards me, 
 only more so. And besides, how can I go there now, after 
 what Darya Aleksandrovna told me ? How can I help show- 
 ing that I know what she told me? That I go with mag- 
 nanimity, to pardon her, to be reconciled to her! I, in 
 her presence, play the role of a pardoning and honor-confer- 
 ring lover to her ! Why did Darya Aleksandrovna tell me 
 that? I might meet her accidentally, and then all would go 
 of itself ; but now it is impossible, impossible ! " 
 
 Darya Aleksandrovna sent him a note, asking the loan of 
 a side-saddle for Kitty. " The}- tell me you have a saddle," 
 she wrote : " I hope that you will bring it yourself." 
 
 This was too much for him. How could a sensible woman 
 of any delicacy so lower her sister? He wrote ten notes, 
 and tore them all up, and then sent the saddle without any 
 reply. To write that he would come was impossible, because 
 he could not come : to write that he could not come because 
 he was busy, or was going awa}- somewhere, was still worse. 
 So he sent the saddle without any reply ; and, with the con- 
 sciousness that he was doing something disgraceful, on the 
 next day, leaving the now disagreeable charge of the estate 
 to the prikashchik, he set off to a distant district to see his 
 friend Sviazhsky, who lived surrounded by a beautiful hunt- 
 ing-ground, and who had lately invited him to fulfil an old 
 project of making him a visit. The woodcock-marshes in the 
 district of Surof had long attracted Levin, but on account 
 of his farm-work he had always put off this visit. Now he
 
 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 341 
 
 was glad to go from the neighborhood of the Shcherbatskys, 
 and especially from his estate, and to hunt, which for all his 
 tribulations was always a sovereign remedy. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 IN the district of Surof there are neither railways nor post- 
 roads ; and Levin took his own horses, and went in a tarantds 
 [travelling-carriage] . 
 
 When he was half way, he stopped to get a meal at the 
 house of a rich muzhik. The host, who was a bald, ro- 
 bust old man, with a great red beard, growing gray on the 
 cheeks, opened the gate, crowding up against the post to let 
 the troika enter. Pointing the coachman to a place under 
 the shed in his large, neat, and orderly new court-yard, the 
 starik invited Levin to enter the room. A neatly clad young 
 girl, with goloshes on her bare feet, was washing up the floor 
 of the new tabernacle. When she saw Levin's dog, she was 
 startled, and screamed, but was re-assured when she found 
 that the dog would not bite. With her bare arm she pointed 
 Levin to the guest-room, then, bending over again, she hid her 
 handsome face, and kept on with her scrubbing. 
 
 " Want the samovar 1 } " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, please." 
 
 The guest-room was large, with a Dutch stove and a par- 
 tition. Under the sacred images stood a table ornamented 
 with different designs, a bench, and two chairs. At the en- 
 trance was a cupboard with dishes. The window-shutters 
 were closed ; there were few flies ; and it was so neat that 
 Levin took care that Laska, who had been flying over the 
 road, and was covered with splashes of mud, should not soil 
 the floor, and bade her lie down in the corner near the door. 
 Levin went to the back of the house. A good-looking girl 
 in goloshes, swinging her empty pails on the yoke, ran to get 
 him water from the well. 
 
 " Lively there," gayly shouted the starik to her ; and then 
 he turned to Levin. "So, sudar [sir], you are going to see 
 Nikolai Ivanovitch Sviazhsky? He often stops with us," 
 he began to say in his garrulous style, as he leaned on the 
 balustrade of the steps. But just as he was in the midst of 
 telling about his acquaintance with Sviazhsky, again the gate 
 creaked on its hinges, and the workmen came in from the
 
 342 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 fields with their ploughs and horses. The roan horses at- 
 taehed to the sok/tas were fat and in good condition. The 
 laborers evidently belonged to the family : two were young 
 fellows, and wore cotton chintz shirts [rubdkka], and caps. 
 The other two were hired men, and wore sheepskins : one was 
 an old man, the other middle-aged. 
 
 The starik left Levin standing on the porch, and began to 
 help unhitch the horses. 
 
 u What have you been ploughing? " 
 
 " The potato-fields. We've done one lot. You, Fiodot, 
 don't bring the gelding, but leave him at the trough : we'll 
 hitch up another." 
 
 " Say, bdtitishka, shall I tell 'em to take out the plough- 
 shares, or to bring 'em? " asked a big-framed, healthy-look- 
 ing lad, evidently the starik' 's son. 
 
 " Put 'em iii the drags," replied the starik, coiling up the 
 reins, and throwing them on the ground. 
 
 The handsome girl in goloshes came back to the house 
 with her brimming pails swinging from her shoulders. Other 
 bnbui appeared from different quarters, some } 7 oung and 
 comely, others old and ugly, with children and without chil- 
 dren. 
 
 The samovar began to sing on the stove. The workmen 
 and the men of family, having taken out their horses, came 
 in to dinner. Levin, sending for his provisions from the 
 tarcnitds, bogged the starik to take tea with him. 
 
 " Da tcltt6 ! already drunk my tea," said the starik, evi- 
 dently flattered by the invitation. " However, for company's 
 sake " 
 
 At tea Levin learned the whole history of the starik's do- 
 mestic economy. Ten years before, the starik had rented of 
 a lady one hundred and twenty deftyatins, and the year before 
 had bought them ; and he had rented three hundred more of a 
 neighboring land-owner. A small portion of this land, and 
 that the poorest, he sublet ; but four hundred deny at ins he 
 himself worked, with the help of his sons and two hired men. 
 The starik complained that all was going bad ; but Levin saw 
 that he complained only for form's sake, and that his affairs 
 were flourishing. If they were bad he would not have 
 bought land for five hundred rubles, or married off his three 
 sons and his nephew, or built twice after his izbti was 
 burned, and each time better. Notwithstanding the starik' a 
 complaints, it was evident that he felt pride in his prosperity,
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 343 
 
 pride in his sons, in his nephew, his daughters, his horses, 
 his cows, and especially in the fact that he owned all this do- 
 main. From his conversation with the starik Levin learned 
 that he believed in modern improvements. He planted many 
 potatoes ; and his potatoes, which Levin saw in the storehouse, 
 he had already dug and brought in, while on Levin's estate 
 they had only begun to dig them. He used the plough on the 
 potato-fields, as he had ploughs which he got from the propri- 
 etor. He sowed wheat. The little detail that the starik 
 sowed rye, and fed his horses with it, especially struck Levin. 
 Levin had seen this beautiful fodder going to ruin, and had 
 wished to harvest it ; but he found it impossible to accom- 
 plish it. The muzhik used it, and could not find sufficient 
 praise for it. 
 
 " How do the women [babionkf] do it? " 
 
 "Oh! they pile it up on one side, and then the telytya 
 comes to it." 
 
 " But with us proprietors every thing goes wrong with the 
 hired men," said Levin as he filled his teacup and offered it 
 to him. 
 
 "Thank you," replied the starik, taking the cup, but re- 
 fusing the sugar, pointing to the lumps which lay in front 
 of him. 
 
 "How to get along with workmen?" said he. "One 
 way. Here's S via/risky, for example. We know what splen- 
 did land but they don't get decent crops. All comes from 
 lack of care." 
 
 " D<i ! but how do you do with your workmen ? " 
 
 " It's all among ourselves. We watch every thing. Lazy- 
 bones, off they go ! We work with our own hands." 
 
 " Bdtiushka, Finogen wants you to give him the tar- 
 water," said a baba in goloshes, looking in through the door. 
 
 "So it is, sudar," said the starik, rising; and, having 
 crossed himself many times before the ikons [sacred pic- 
 tures], he once more thanked Levin, and left the room. 
 
 When Levin went into the dark izba to give orders to his 
 coachman, he found all the "men-folks" sitting down to 
 dinner. The babui were on their feet helping. The healthy- 
 looking young son, with his mouth full of kasha, got off^ome 
 joke, and all broke into loud guffaws ; and more hilariously 
 than the others laughed the baba in goloshes, who was pour- 
 ing shchi into a tureen. 
 
 It well might be that the jolly face of the baba iu the
 
 344 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 goloshes co-operated powerfully with the whole impression 
 of orderliness which this peasant home produced on Levin : 
 but the impression was so strong that Levin could never get 
 rid of it ; and all the way from the starik's to Sviazhsky's, 
 again and again he thought of what he had seen at the farm- 
 house, as something deserving special attention. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 SviAZHSKr was marshal \_predvoditeT] in his district. He 
 was five years older than Levin, and had been married some 
 time. His sister-in-law was a very sympathetic young lady ; 
 and Levin knew, as marriageable young men usually know 
 such things, that her friends wanted her to find a husband. 
 Although he dreamed of marriage, and was sure that this 
 lovable young lad}* would make a charming wife, he would 
 sooner have been able to fly to heaven than to marry her, 
 even if he had not been in love with Kitty Shcherbatskai'a. 
 The fear of being looked upon as a suitor took the edge from 
 his pleasure in his prospective visit, and made him hesitate 
 about accepting his friend's invitation. Sviazhsky's domes- 
 tic life was in the highest degree interesting, and Sviazhsky 
 himself was an interesting type of the proprietor devoted to 
 the affairs of the province. He was a thorough-going libei'al ; 
 but there was great discrepancy between the opinions which 
 he professed, and his manner of living and acting. He de- 
 spised the nobility, whom he charged with hostility to eman- 
 cipation : and he regarded Russia as a rotten country, whose 
 wretched government was scarcely better than Turkey ; and 
 yet he had accepted public office, and attended faithfully to 
 his duties. He never even went out without donning his 
 official cap, with its red border and cockade. He declared 
 that human existence was endurable only abroad, where he 
 was going to live at the first opportunity ; but at the same 
 time he carried on in Russia a very complicated estate l in 
 the most perfect style, and was interested in all that was 
 going on in Russia, and was fully up with the times. The 
 Russian muzhik, in his eyes, stood between man and monkey ; 
 but,when the elections came, he gave his hand to the peas- 
 ants by preference, and listened to them with the utmost 
 
 1 KhozydMvo includes household economy, the outside interests, farming, mills, 
 every thing connected with an estate. The master of an estate is called khozydin, 
 the mistress khozy&ika, terms often used for host and hostess.
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 345 
 
 attention. He believed neither in God nor the Devil ; but 
 he showed great concern in ameliorating the condition of the 
 clergy, and saw that his village church was kept in repair. 
 In regard to the emancipation of women, and especially their 
 right to work, he held the most pronounced and radical 
 ideas ; but he lived in perfect harmony with his wife, and 
 took entire direction of the family affairs, so that his wife 
 did nothing, and could do nothing, except in co-operation 
 with him, in order to pass the time as agreeably as possible. 
 
 In spite of the contradictions in his character, Levin did 
 his best to comprehend him, looking upon him as a living 
 conundrum ; and through their social relations he tried to 
 enter this strange man's inner consciousness. The hunting 
 which Sviazhsky gave him was poor : the marshes were dry, 
 and the woodcock scarce. Levin walked all day, and got 
 only three birds ; but the compensation was a ravenous ap- 
 petite, capital spirits, and that intellectual excitement which 
 violent physical exercise always gave him. 
 
 In the evening, as they sat at the tea-table, Levin found 
 himself next the khozyri'ika, a lady of medium stature and 
 light complexion, all radiant with smiles and dimples. Levin 
 endeavored, through her, to unravel the enigma which her 
 husband's character afforded him ; but he could not get full 
 control of his thoughts, because opposite him sat the pretty 
 sister-in-law in a dress worn, as it seemed to him, for his 
 especial benefit, with a square corsage cut rather low in front, 
 and giving a glimpse of a very white bosom. He did his 
 best not to look at her, buj; his eyes were constantly attracted 
 to her ; and he felt ill at ease, and his constraint was shared 
 by the young lad}- herself. But the khozydika seemed not 
 to notice it, and kept up a lively conversation. 
 
 " You say that my husband does not take an interest in 
 Russian affairs?" she asked. "On the contrary, he was 
 happy when he was abroad, but not so happy as he is here. 
 Here he feels that he is in his sphere. He has so much to do, 
 and he takes especial pains to interest himself in every thing. 
 Ach! you have not been to see our school? " 
 
 " Yes, I have, that little house covered with ivy? " 
 
 "Yes: that is Nastia's work," said she, glancing at her 
 sister. 
 
 "Do you yourself teach?" asked Levin, trying to look 
 at Nastia's face, but feeling, that, in spite of him, he would 
 seem to be looking at the parted dress.
 
 346 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 " Yes, I teach, and intend to ; but we have an excellent 
 school-m istress. ' ' 
 
 " No, thank you, I will not take any more tea," said 
 Levin. He felt that he was committing a solecism ; but he 
 could not keep up the conversation, and he rose in confu- 
 sion. " I am very much interested in what they are saying." 
 And he went to the other end of the table, where the kltoz- 
 yuin was talking with two landed proprietors. Sviazhsky 
 was sitting with his side towards the table, twirling his 
 cup around with one hand, and with the other stroking his 
 long beard. His bright black eyes were fixed with keen 
 amusement on one of the proprietors, a man with a white 
 mustache, who was complaining bitterly about the peasantry. 
 Levin saw that Sviazhsky had an answer ready for the worthy 
 gentleman's comical complaints, and could reduce his argu- 
 ments to powder if his oih'cial position did not compel him 
 to respect the proprietor's. 
 
 The proprietor with the white mustache was evidently 
 a narrow-minded country gentleman, an inveterate opponent 
 of the emancipation, and an old-style farmer. Levin could 
 see the signs of it in his old-fashioned shiny coat, in his 
 keen, angry eyes, in his well-balanced Russian speech, in 
 his authoritative, slow, and studied manner, and his imperi- 
 ous gestures with his large, handsome hand ornamented with 
 a single wedding-ring. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 * 
 
 " IF it only weren't a pity to abandon what has been 
 done, cost so much labor, it would be better to give 
 up, sell out, go abroad, and hear ' La Belle Ilelene,' like 
 Nikolai Ivanovitch," the old proprietor was saying; while 
 his intelligent face lighted up with a smile. 
 
 "Da vot! but still you don't sell out," said Nikolai' 
 Ivanovitch Sviazhsky: "so you must be well off, on the 
 whole." 
 
 " I am well off in one way, because I have a home of 
 my own, and don't hire or board. Besides, one always 
 hopes that the peasantry will improve. But would you 
 believe it, this drunkenness, this laziness ! Ever}- thing goes 
 to destruction. No horses, no cows. They starve to death. 
 But try to help them, take them for farm-hands : they
 
 ANNA KAE&NINA. 347 
 
 manage to ruin you ; yes, even before a justice of the 
 peace ! " 1 
 
 ' But you, too, can complain to the justice of the peace," 
 said Sviazhsky. 
 
 " What! I complain? Da! not for the world! All such 
 talk shows that complaints are idle. Here, at the mill, they 
 took their handsel, and went off. What did the justice of 
 the peace do? Acquitted them. Your only chance is to go 
 to the communal court, to the starshind. The starshind 
 will have the man thrashed for you. But for him, sell 
 out, fly to the ends of the world ! " 
 
 The proprietor was evidently trying to tease Sviazhsky ; 
 but Sviazhsky not only did not lose his temper, but was 
 much amused. 
 
 " Da vat! we carry on our estates without these meas- 
 ures," said he, smiling. " I, Levin, he." 
 
 He pointed to the other proprietor. 
 
 ''Yes; but ask Mikhail Petrovitch how his affairs are 
 getting along. Is that a rational way [khozyd'ixtvo']?" 
 demanded the proprietor, especially accenting the word 
 ' rational " [ratsionalnoe^. 
 
 ' My way is very simple," said Mikhai'1 Petrovitch, 
 " thank the Lord! My whole business lies in seeing that 
 the money is ready for the autumn taxes. The muzhiks 
 come, and say, ' Bdtiushka, help us, father.' Nn! all 
 these muzhiks are neighbors : I pity 'em. Nu I I advance 
 'em the first third. Only I say, ' Remember, children, I 
 help you ; and you must help me when I need you, 
 sowing the oats, getting in the ha} 7 , harvesting.' Nit I I 
 get along with them as with my own family. To be sure, 
 there are some among them who haven't any conscience." 
 
 Levin, who knew of old about these patriarchal traditions, 
 exchanged glances with Sviazhsky ; and, interrupting Mikhail 
 Petrovitch, he said, u How would you advise?" addressing 
 the old proprietor with the gray mustache. " How do you 
 think one's estate \khozyaistvo^ ought to be managed?" 
 
 " Da! manage it just as Mikhail Petrovitch does, either 
 give half the land to the muzhiks, or go shares with them. 
 
 1 In the Russian mir, or commune, the siarxhind, or elder, is the chief elected every 
 three years. Before the emancipation of the serfs, in 1861, each commune had its 
 district court [voloxtnoi sudi], the decisions of which were often very ridiculous. 
 Among the reforms instituted by the Emperor Alexander II. was the so-called jus- 
 tice oi the peace, more properly, jiuliio of the peace [miroroii sudyd}, an innova- 
 tion which at first caused much opposition among the peasantry. See Wallace's 
 " Kussia," and L<;roy Beaulieu's " L'limpire des Tears."
 
 348 ANNA KARfiNlNA. 
 
 That is possible ; but, all the same, the wealth of the country 
 is growing less and less. Places on my lands which in the 
 time of serfage, under good management [khosydX&oo], pro- 
 duced ninefold, now produce only threefold. Emancipation 
 has ruined Russia." 
 
 Sviazhsky looked at Levin with scornful amusement in his 
 eyes, and was just making a gesture to express his disdain : 
 but Levin listened to the old proprietor's words without any 
 feeling of scorn ; he understood them better than he under- 
 stood Sviazhsky. Much that the old man said in his com- 
 plaint, that Russia was ruined by the emancipation, seemed 
 to him true, though his experience did not go so far back. 
 The proprietor evidently expressed his honest thought, a 
 thought which arose, not from any desire to show an idle wit, 
 but from the conditions of his life, which had been spent in 
 the country, where he could see the question practically from 
 every side. 
 
 " The fact is," continued the old proprietor, who evidently 
 wished to show that he was not an enemy of civilization, 
 "all progress is accomplished by force alone. Take the 
 reforms of Peter, of Catharine, of Alexander ; take European 
 history itself, and all the more for progress in agriculture. 
 The potato, for instance, to have potatoes introduced into 
 Russia took force. We have not always ploughed with 
 ploughs ; but to get them introduced into our domains took 
 force. Now, in our day, we proprietors, who had seignorial 
 rights, could conduct our affairs to perfection : drying-rooms 
 and winnowing-machines and improved carts all sorts of 
 tools we could introduce, because we had the power; and 
 the muzhiks at first would oppose, and then would imitate us. 
 But now, by the abrogation of serfage, they have taken away 
 our authority ; and so our estates [kliozyd'istvo] , now that 
 every thing is reduced to the same level, must necessarily 
 sink back to the condition of primitive barbarism. This is 
 my view of it." 
 
 " Da! but why? If that were rational, then you could 
 keep on with your improvements by hiring help," said 
 Sviazhsky. 
 
 "Not without authority. How could I? allow me to 
 ask." 
 
 "This this is the working-force, the chief element in 
 the problem before us," thought Levin. 
 
 "With hired men."
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 349 
 
 " Hired men will not work well, or work with good tools. 
 Our laborers know how to do only one thing, to drink like 
 pigs, and, when they are drunk, to spoil every thing that you 
 let them have. They water your horses to death, tear your 
 nice harnesses, take the tires off your wheels and sell them 
 for drink, stick bolts into your winnowing-machines so as to 
 make them useless. Every thing that is not done in their 
 way makes them sick at the stomach. And thus the affairs 
 of our estates go from bad to worse. The lands are neg- 
 lected, and go to weeds, or else are given to the muzhiks. 
 Instead of producing millions of tchetverts [5.775 English 
 bushels] of wheat, you can raise only a few hundred thou- 
 sand. The public wealth is diminishing. If they were 
 going to free the serfs, the}' should have done it gradually." 
 
 And he developed his own scheme, wherein all difficulties 
 would have been avoided. This plan did not interest Levin, 
 and he returned to his first question, with the hope of indu- 
 cing Sviazhsky to tell what he seriously thought about it. 
 
 " It is very true that the level of our agriculture is grow- 
 ing lower and lower, and that in our present relations with 
 the peasantry, it is impossible to carry on our estates ration- 
 ally," he said. 
 
 " I am not of that opinion," said Sviazhsky seriously. " I 
 deny that, since serfage was abolished, agriculture has de- 
 cayed ; and I argue that in those days it was very wretched, 
 and very low. We never had any machines, or good cattle, 
 or decent supervision. We did not even know how to count. 
 Ask a proprietor : he could not tell you what a thing cost, or 
 what it would bring him." 
 
 "Italian book-keeping!" said the old proprietor ironi- 
 cally. " Reckon all you please, and get things mixed as 
 much as you please, there will be no profit in it." 
 
 " Why get things mixed up? Your miserable flail, your 
 Russian topchatchek, will break all to pieces : my steam- 
 thresher will not break to pieces. Then your wretched nags ; 
 how are they? A puny breed that you can pull by the tails, 
 comes to nothing ; but our percherons are vigorous horses, 
 they amount to something. And so with every thing. Our 
 agriculture [khozydistvo'] always needed to be pushed." 
 
 ' Da! but it would need some power, Nikolai Ivanuitch. 
 Very well for you ; but when one has one son at the uni- 
 versity, and several others at school, as I have, he can't 
 afford to buy percherons.
 
 350 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 "There are banks on purpose." 
 
 " To have my last goods and chattels sold under the ham- 
 mer. No, thank you ! " 
 
 " I don't agree that it is necessary or possible to lift the 
 level of agriculture much higher," said Levin. " I am much 
 interested in this question ; and I have the means, but I can- 
 not do any thing. And as for banks, I don't know whom 
 they profit. And up to the present time, whatever I have 
 spent on my estate, has resulted only in loss. Cattle loss ; 
 machines loss." 
 
 " That is true," said the old proprietor with the gray 
 mustache, laughing with hearty satisfaction. 
 
 " And I am not the only man," Levin continued. " I call 
 to mind all those who have made experiments in the ' rational 
 manner.' All, with few exceptions, have come out of it with 
 losses. Nu! you say that your estate [khozydistvo'] is 
 profitable? " he asked, seeing in Sviazhsky's face that tran- 
 sient expression of embarrassment which he noticed when 
 he wanted to penetrate farther into the reception-room of 
 Sviazhsky's mind. 
 
 However, this question was not entirely fair play on 
 Levin's part. The khozydika told him at tea that they had 
 just had a German expert up from Moscow, who, for five hun- 
 dred rubles' fee, agreed to put the book-keeping of the estate 
 in order ; and he found that there had been a net loss of 
 about three thousand rubles. 
 
 The old proprietor smiled when he heard Levin's ques- 
 tion about the profits of Sviazhsky's management. It was 
 evident that he knew about the state of his neighbors' 
 finances. 
 
 " May be unprofitable," replied Sviazhsky. "This only 
 proves that either I am a poor economist [kkozy&n], or 
 I sink my capital to increase the revenue." 
 
 " Ach! revenue!" cried Levin, with horror. "Maybe 
 there is such a thing as revenue in Europe, where the land is 
 better for the labor spent upon it ; but with us, the more 
 labor spent on it, the worse it is that is because it exhausts 
 it so there is no revenue." 
 
 " How, no revenue? It is a law? " 
 
 " Then we are exceptions to the law. The word revenue 
 \renta] has no clearness for us, and explains nothing, but 
 rather confuses. No ; tell me how revenue " 
 
 "Won't you have some curds? Masha, send us some
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 351 
 
 curds or some raspberries," said Sviazhsky to his wife. 
 " Raspberries have lasted unusually late this year." 
 
 And, with his usual jovial disposition of soul, Sviazhsky 
 got up and went out, evidently assuming that the discussion 
 was ended, while for Levin it seemed that it had only just 
 begun. 
 
 Levin was now left with the old proprietor, and continued 
 to talk with him, endeavoring to prove that all the trouble 
 arose from the fact that we did not try to understand our 
 laborer's habits and peculiarities. But the old proprietor, 
 like all people accustomed to think alone and for himself, 
 found it difficult to enter into the thought of another, and 
 clung firmly to his own opinions. He declared that the 
 Russian muzhik was a pig, and loved swinishness, and that 
 it needed force to drive him out of his swinishness, or else a 
 stick ; but we are such liberals that we have swapped off the 
 thousand-year-old stick for these lawyers and jails, where 
 the good-for-nothing, stinking muzhik gets fed on good soup, 
 and has his pure air by the cubic foot. 
 
 " Why," asked Levin, wishing to get back to the ques- 
 tion, " do you think that it is impossible to reach an equilib- 
 rium which will utilize the forces of the laborer, and render 
 them productive ? ' ' 
 
 "That will never come about with the Russian people: 
 there is no authority," replied the proprietor. 
 
 " How could new conditions be found?" asked Sviazhsky, 
 who had been eating his curds, and smoking a cigarette, and 
 now approached the two disputants. "All the needful forms 
 are ready for use, and well learned. That relic of barbarism, 
 the primitive commune where each member is responsible 
 for all, is falling to pieces of its own weight; the seigno- 
 rial right has been abolished ; now there remains only free 
 labor, and its forms are right at hand, the dajMaborer, 
 the journeyman, the farmer, and, now get rid of that if 
 you can ! " 
 
 " But Europe is weary of these forms." 
 
 "Yes, and perhaps will find new ones, and will progress 
 probably." 
 
 " This is all I say about that," said Levin. " Why should 
 we not seek for them on our side? " 
 
 " Because it is just the same as if we should try to find 
 new ways of building railroads. They are all ready, they 
 are thought out."
 
 352 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 " But if they do not suit us? if they are hurtful? " Levin 
 demanded. 
 
 And again he saw the frightened look in Sviazhsky's eyes. 
 
 "Da! this: we throw up our caps, we follow wherever 
 Europe leads ! All this I know ; but tell me, are you ac- 
 quainted with all this is doing in Europe about the labor 
 question? " 
 
 "No; very little." 
 
 " This question is now occupying the best minds in Europe. 
 Schulze Delitzsch and his school, then all this prodigious 
 literature on the labor question, the tendencies of the ad- 
 vanced liberal Lassalle, the organization of Miilhausen, 
 this is all a fact, you must know." 
 
 " I have an idea of it, but it's very vague." 
 
 " No, you only say so : you know all this as well as I do. 
 I don't set up to be a professor of social science, but these 
 things interest me ; and I assure you, if they interest you, 
 you should go into them." 
 
 " But where do they lead you? " 
 
 " Beg pardon." 
 
 The two pomyeshchiks got up ; and Sviazhsky, again arrest- 
 ing Levin just as he was about to carry out his intention of 
 sounding the depths of his mind, went out with his guests. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 LEVIN spent the evening with the ladies, and found it un- 
 endurably stupid. His mind was stirred, as never before, at 
 the thought of the disgust that he felt in the administration 
 of his estate. It seemed to him not exclusively his own 
 affair, but a public trust which concerned Russia, and that 
 an organization of labor, in such a manner as he saw at the 
 muzhik's on the highway, was not an illusion, but a problem 
 to be solved. And it seemed to him that he could settle this 
 problem, and that he must attempt to do it. 
 
 Levin bade the ladies good-night, promising to give them 
 the next morning for a horseback ride to see some interest- 
 ing slides in the Crown woods. Before going to bed he went 
 to the library, to get some of the books on the labor question 
 which Sviazhsky had recommended. Sviazhsky's library 
 was an enormous room, all lined with book-shelves, and 
 having two tables, one a massive writing-table, standing in
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 353 
 
 the centre of the room, and the other round, and laden with 
 recent numbers of journals and reviews, in various languages, 
 arranged about the lamp. Near the writing-table was a 
 cabinet [so?A:a], holding drawers with gilt lettering for the 
 reception of all sorts of papers. 
 
 Sviazhsky got the volumes, and sat down in a rocking- 
 chair. 
 
 "What is that you are looking at?" he asked of Levin, 
 who was standing by the round table, and turning the leaves 
 of a review. Levin held up the review. " Oh, yes ! there 
 is a very interesting article there. " It appears," he added 
 with gay animation, "that the principal culprit in the parti- 
 tion of Poland was not Frederic after all. It appears" 
 and he gave with that clearness which was characteristic of 
 him, a digest of these new and important discoveries. Levin, 
 who was now more interested in the labor question than in 
 any thing, listened to his friend, and asked himself, " What 
 is he in reality ? and why, why does the partition of Poland 
 interest him?" When Sviazhsky was through, Levin could 
 not help sa\'ing, "Nu! and what of it?" But there was 
 nothing to say. It was interesting simply from the fact that 
 it " appeared." But Sviazhsky did not explain, and did not 
 care to explain, why it was interesting to him. 
 
 "Da/ but the irascible old proprietor interested me very 
 much," said Levin, sighing. " He's sensible, and a good 
 deal of what he says is true." 
 
 "Ach! don't speak of it! he is a confirmed slaveholder 
 at heart, like all the rest of them." 
 
 " With you at their head " 
 
 " Yes, only I am trying to lead them in the other direc- 
 tion," replied Sviazhsky, laughing. 
 
 " His argument struck me very forcibly," said Levin. 
 " He is right when he says that our affairs, that the ' rational 
 management,' 1 cannot succeed ; that the only kind that can 
 succeed is the money-lending kind of the other proprietor, or, 
 in other words, the most simple. Who is to blame for it? " 
 
 "We ourselves, of course. Da! even then it is not true 
 that it does not succeed. It succeeds with Vasiltchikof." 
 
 "The mill" 
 
 " But what is there surprising about it? The peasantry 
 stand on such a low plane of development, both materially 
 and morally, that it is evident that they must oppose all that 
 
 1 Jiataiondlnoe khozydistvo.
 
 354 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 
 
 is strange to them. In Europe the 'rational management' 
 succeeds because the people are civilized. In the first place, 
 we must civilize our peasantry, that's the point." 
 
 " But how will you civilize them? " 
 
 "To civilize the people, three things are necessary, 
 schools, schools, and schools." 
 
 " But you yourself say that the peasantry stand on a low 
 plane of material development. What good will schools do 
 in that respect? " 
 
 " Do you know, you remind me of a story of the advice 
 given a sick man: 'You had better try a purgative.' He 
 tries it: grows worse. ' Apply leeches.' He tries it : grows 
 worse. ' Nu! then pray to God.' He tries it : grows worse. 
 So it is with you. I say political economy : you say you're 
 worse for it. I suggest socialism : worse still. Education : 
 still worse." 
 
 " Da! But what can schools do? " 
 
 " Thej" will create other necessities." 
 
 " But this is just the very thing I could never under- 
 stand," replied Levin vehemently. " In what way will 
 schools help the peasantry to better their material condition ? 
 You say that schools education will create new needs. 
 So much the worse, because the}' will not have the ability to 
 satisfy them ; and I could never see how a knowledge of 
 addition and subtraction and the catechism could help them 
 to better themselves materially. Day before yesterday I met 
 a baba with a baby at the breast, and I asked her where she 
 had been. She said, ' To the babka's : l the child was dis- 
 tressed, and I took him to be cured.' ' How did the babka 
 cure the child? ' ' She sat him on the hen-roost, and mut- 
 tered something.' ' 
 
 " Nu, vot!" cried Sviazhsky, laughing heartily. "You 
 yourself confess it. In order to teach them that they can't 
 cure children by setting them on hen-roosts, you must'* 
 
 " Ach, no!" interrupted Levin, with some vexation. 
 " Your remedy of schools for the people, I compared to the 
 babka's method of curing. The peasantry are wretched and 
 uncivilized : this we see as plainly as the baba. saw her child's 
 distress because he was crying. But that schools can raise 
 them from their wretchedness is as inconceivable as the hen- 
 roost cure for sick children. You must first remed}' the 
 cause of the misery." 
 
 1 Jiabka, diminutive of baba,n peasant grandmother; popular name for the 
 midwife.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 355 
 
 " Nu! In this at least you agree with Spencer, whom you 
 do not like. He says that civilization can result from in- 
 creased happiness and comfort in life, from frequent ablu- 
 tions, but not by learning to read and cipher " 
 
 " Nu, vot! I am very glad, or rather very sorry, if I am 
 in accord with Spencer. But this I have felt for a long time : 
 it can't be done by schools ; only by economical organization, 
 in which the peasantry will be richer, will have more leisure. 
 Then schools will come." 
 
 " Nevertheless, schools are obligatory now all over 
 Europe." 
 
 "But how would you harmonize this with Spencer's 
 ideas?" asked Levin. 
 
 But into Sviazhsky's eyes again came the troubled expres- 
 sion ; and he said with a smile, " No, this story of the baba 
 was capital ! Is it possible that you heard it yourself? " 
 
 Levin saw that there was no connection between this man's 
 life and his thoughts. Evidently it was of vei'y little con- 
 sequence to him where his conclusions led him. Only the 
 process of reasoning was what appealed to him ; and it was 
 unpleasant when this process of reasoning led him into some 
 stupid, blind alley. 
 
 All the impressions of this day, beginning with the muzhik 
 on the highway, which seemed somehow to give a new basis 
 to his thoughts, filled Levin's mind with commotion. Sviazh- 
 sky and his inconsequential thoughts ; the testy old proprie- 
 tor, perfectly right in his judicious views of life, but wrong 
 in despising one entire class in Russia, and perhaps the best ; 
 his own relations to his work, and the confused hope of 
 setting things right at last, all this caused him a sensation 
 of trouble and alarmed expectation. 
 
 Going to his room, lying under the feather-bed which 
 exposed his arms and legs every time he moved, Levin 
 could not get to sleep. His conversation with Sviazhsky, 
 though many good things were said, did not interest him ; 
 but the old proprietor's arguments pursued him. Levin in- 
 voluntarily remembered every word that he said, and his 
 imagination supplied the answer. 
 
 " Yes, I ought to have said to him, ' You say that our 
 management is not succeeding because the muzhik despises 
 all improvements, and that force must be applied to them. 
 But if our estates were not . retrograding, even where these 
 improvements are not found, you would be right ; but they
 
 356 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 advance only where the work is carried on in consonance 
 with the customs of the laborers, as at the house of the 
 stank on the highway. Our failure to earn" on our estates 
 profitably, results either from our fault or that of the 
 laborers.' ' 
 
 And thus he carried on a train of thought which led him 
 to an examination of what plan would best suit both the 
 laborer and the proprietor. The thought of co-operation 
 came over him with all its force. Half the night he did not 
 sleep, thinking of his new plans and schemes. He had not 
 intended to leave so soon, but now he decided to go home 
 on the morrow. Moreover, the memory of the young lady 
 with the open dress came over him with a strange shame 
 and disgust. But the main thing that decided him was his 
 desire to establish his new project before the autumn harvests, 
 so that the muzhiks might reap under the new conditions. 
 He had decided entirely to reform his method of administra- 
 tion. 
 
 XXEX. 
 
 THE carrying-out of Levin's plan offered man}* difficulties ; 
 but he persevered, though he recognized that the results 
 obtained would not be in proportion to the labor involved. 
 One of the principal obstacles which met him was the fact 
 that his estate was already in runn ing-order, and that it was 
 impossible to come to a sudden stop and begin anew. He 
 had to wind the machine up by degrees. 
 
 When he reached home in the evening, he summoned his 
 prikashchik, and explained to him his plans. The prikash- 
 chik received with undisguised satisfaction all the details of 
 this scheme so far as they showed that all that had been 
 done hitherto was absurd and unproductive. The prikashchik 
 declared that he had long ago told him so, but that his words 
 had not been heard. But when Levin proposed to share 
 the profits of the estate with the laborers, on the basis of 
 an association, the prikashchik put on an expression of mel- 
 ancholy, and immediately began to speak of the necessity of 
 bringing in the last sheaves of wheat, and commencing the 
 second ploughing ; and Levin felt that now was not a propitious 
 time. On conversing with the muzhiks about his project of 
 dividing with them the products of the earth, he quickly per- 
 ceived that they were too much occupied with their daily
 
 ANNA KAIttiNINA. 357 
 
 tasks to comprehend the advantages and disadvantages of 
 his enterprise. 
 
 A keen muzhik, Ivan the skotnik, to whom Levin proposed 
 to share in the profits of the cattle, seemed to comprehend 
 and to approve ; but every time that Levin went on to speak of 
 the advantages that would result, Ivan's face grew troubled, 
 and, without waiting to hear Levin out, he would hurry off to 
 attend to some work that could not be postponed, either 
 to pitch the hay from the pens, or to draw water, or to clear 
 away the manure. 
 
 The chief obstacle consisted in the inveterate distrust of 
 the peasants, who would not believe that a proprietor could 
 have any other aim than to despoil them. Whatever rea- 
 soning he might employ to convince them, they still held to 
 then- conviction that his real purpose was hidden. They, on 
 their side, made many words ; but the}* carefully guarded 
 against telling what they intended to do. Levin remembered 
 the angry proprietor when the peasants demanded, as the 
 first and indispensable condition for their new arrangements, 
 that they should never be bound to any of the new agricultural 
 methods, or to use the improved tools. They agreed that the 
 new-fashioned plough worked better, that the weed-extirpator 
 was more successful ; but they invented a thousand excuses 
 not to make use of them. Whatever regret he felt at giving 
 up processes, the advantages of which were self-evident, he 
 let them have their wa}' ; and by autumn the new arrange- 
 ment was in working-order, or at least seemed to be. 
 
 At first Levin intended to give up his whole domain to the 
 new association of workmen. But very soon he found that 
 this was impracticable ; and he made up his mind to limit it 
 to the cattle, the garden, the kitchen-garden, the hay-fields, 
 and some lands, situated at some distance, which for eight 
 years past had been lying fallow. Ivan, the keen skotnik, 
 formed an association \_artel~j composed of members of his 
 family, and took charge of the cattle-yard. The new field 
 was taken by the shrewd carpenter Feodor Rzunof, who 
 joined with him seven families of muzhiks; and the muzhik 
 Shuraef entered into the same arrangements for superin- 
 tending the gardens. 
 
 It was true that matters were not carried on in the cattle- 
 yard any better than before, and that Ivan was obstinate in 
 his mistakes about feeding the cows and churning the butter, 
 and found it impossible to comprehend or take any interest
 
 358 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 in the fact that henceforth his wages would be represented 
 by a proportion of the profits of the association. It was 
 true that Rezunof did not give the field a second ploughing, as 
 he had been advised to do. It was true that the muzhiks of 
 this company, although they had agreed to take this work 
 under the new conditions, called this land, not common land, 
 but shared-land, and that Rezunof did not complete the barn 
 that he had agreed to build before winter. It was true that 
 Shuraef tried to give away the products of the gardens to 
 the other muzhiks, seeming to be under the impression that 
 the land had been given to him. But, in spite of all these 
 drawbacks, Levin still persevered, hoping to be able to show 
 his associates at the end of the year that the new order of 
 things could bring excellent results. 
 
 All these changes in the administration of the estate, to- 
 gether with his work in the library on his new book, so filled 
 his time that he scarcely ever went out, even to hunt. 
 
 Towards the end of August the Oblonskys returned to 
 Moscow, as he learned through the man that brought back 
 the saddle. The memory of his rudeness in not answering 
 Darya Aleksandrovna's note, or going to call upon them, 
 caused him a pang of shame ; and he felt that his conduct 
 toward Sviazhsky had not been much more gentlemanly : but 
 he was too busy to have time to think of his remorse. His 
 reading absorbed him. He finished the books which Sviazh- 
 sky loaned him, and others on political economy and social- 
 ism, which he sent for. Among the writers on political 
 economy, Mill, which he studied first, interested him, but 
 seemed to him to offer nothing applicable to the agrarian 
 situation in Russia. Modern socialism did not satisfy him 
 any more. Either they were beautiful but impracticable 
 fancies, such as he dreamed when he was a student, or mod- 
 ifications of that situation of things applicable to Europe, 
 but offering no solution for the agrarian question in Russia. 
 Political economy said that the laws in which the happiness 
 of Europe was developed and would develop were universal 
 and fixed ; socialistic teachings said that progress accord- 
 ing to these laws would lead to destruction ; but there was 
 nothing that he could find that cast the light on the means 
 of leading him and all the Russian muzhiks and agricultur- 
 ists, with their millions of hands and of desyatins, to more 
 successful methods of reaching prosperity. As he went on 
 reading, it occurred to him that it would be an advantage to
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 359 
 
 go abroad and study on the spot certain special questions, 
 so as not to be always sent from one authority to another, 
 to Kaufman, to Le Bois, to Michelet. 
 
 He saw clearly now that Kaufman and Michelet could not 
 answer these questions for him. He knew what he wanted. 
 He saw that Russia possessed an admirable soil and admi- 
 rable workmen, and that in certain cases, as with the muzhik 
 by the highway, the land and the workmen could produce 
 abundantly, but that, when capital was spent upon them in 
 the European manner, they produced scarcely any thing. 
 This contrast could not be the result of chance. The Rus- 
 sian people he thought destined to colonize these immense 
 spaces, cling to their traditions and to their own ways and 
 customs ; and who is to say that they are wrong? And he 
 wanted to demonstrate this theory in his book, and put it 
 into practice on his land. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 TOWARDS the end of September the lumber was brought 
 for the construction of a barn on the artel land, and the 
 butter was sold, and showed a profit. The new adminis- 
 tration, on the whole, worked admirably, or at least it 
 seemed so to Levin. But in order to put the theories 
 into a clear light, and to view all the different sides of 
 political economy, he felt that it was necessary .to go 
 abroad, and to learn, from practical observation, all that 
 might be of use to him in regard to the relations of the 
 people to the soil. He was only waiting for the delivery 
 of the wheat to get his money, and make the journey. But 
 the autumn rains set in, and a part of the wheat and pota- 
 toes were not as yet garnered. All work was at a stand- 
 still, and it was impossible to deliver the wheat. The roads 
 were impracticable, two mills were washed away, and the 
 situation seemed to be growing worse and worse. 
 
 But on the morning of the 30th of September the sun 
 came out ; and Levin, hoping for a change in the weather, 
 sent the prikashchik to the merchant to negotiate for the 
 sale of the wheat. 
 
 He himself went out for a tour of inspection of the 
 estate, in order to make the last remaining arrangements 
 for his journey. Having accomplished all that he wished, 
 he returned at nightfall, wet from the rivulets that trickled
 
 360 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 down his neck from his leather coat and inside his high 
 boots, but in a happy and animated frame of mind. The 
 storm towards evening had increased ; but he put up with 
 all the difficulties of the way, and, under his bashluik, he 
 felt happy and comfortable. His talks with the peasants 
 over the whole district convinced him that they were begin- 
 ning to get used to his arrangements ; and an old dvornik 
 [hostler] , at whose house he stopped to get dry, evidently 
 approved of his plan, and wanted to join the association 
 for the purchase of cattle. 
 
 " All it requires is obstinate perseverance, and I shall 
 come out of it all right," thought Levin. " I am not 
 working for myself alone ; but the question concerns the 
 good of all. The whole way of managing on estates, 
 the condition of all the people, may be changed by it. In- 
 stead of misery, universal well-being, contentment ; instead 
 of unfriendliness, agreement and union of interests : in a 
 word, a bloodless revolution, but a mighty revolution, be- 
 ginning in the little circuit of our district, then reaching 
 the province, Russia,, the whole world ! The thought is 
 so just that it cannot help being fruitful. Da! this 
 goal is worth working for. And the fact that I, Kostia 
 Levin, my own self, a man who went to a ball in a black 
 necktie, and was rejected by a Shcherbatsky , a stupid and 
 a good-for-nothing, that is neither here nor there. I 
 believe, that Franklin felt that he was just such a good- 
 for-nothing, and had just as little faith in himself, when 
 he took himself into account. And, indeed, he had his 
 Agafya Mikhailovna also, to whom he confided his secrets." 
 
 With such thoughts, Levin reached home in the dark. 
 The prikashchik, who had been to the merchant, came and 
 handed him the money from the sale of the wheat. The 
 agreement with the dvornik was drawn up ; and then the 
 prikashchik told how he had seen wheat still standing in 
 the field by the road, while his one hundred and sixty 
 stacks, already brought in, were nothing in comparison to 
 what others had. 
 
 After supper Levin sat down in his chair, as usual, with 
 a book ; and as he read he began to think of his projected 
 journey, especially in connection with his book. His mind 
 was clear, and his ideas fell naturally into flowing periods, 
 which expressed the essence of his thought. "This must 
 be written down," he said to himself. He got up to go to
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 361 
 
 his writing-table ; and Laska, who had been lying at his 
 feet, also got up, and, stretching herself, looked at him. as 
 though asking where he was going. But he had no time 
 for writing ; for the nntchalniks came for their orders, and 
 he had to go to meet them in the anteroom. 
 
 After giving them their orders, or rather, having made ar- 
 rangements for their morrow's work, and having received all 
 the muzhiks who came to consult with him, Levin went back 
 to his library, and sat down to his work. Laska lay under 
 the table : Agafya Mikhailovna, with her knitting, took her 
 usual place. 
 
 After writing some time, Levin suddenly arose, and began 
 to walk up and down the room. The memon' of Kitty and 
 her refusal, and the recent glimpse of her, came before his 
 imagination with extraordinary vividness. 
 
 "Da! why trouble yourself ?" asked Agafya Mikhailovna. 
 " Nu! why do you stay at home? You had better go to the 
 warm springs if your mind is made up." 
 
 " I am going day after to-morrow, Agafya Mikhailovna ; 
 but I had to finish up my business." 
 
 " Nul your business, indeed! Haven't you given these 
 muzhiks enough already ? And they say, ' Our barin is 
 after some favor from the Tsar ; ' and strange it is. Why 
 do you work so for the muzhiks? " 
 
 " I am not working for them : I am doing for m.yself." 
 
 Agafya Mikhailovna knew all the details of Levin's plans, 
 for he had explained them to her, and he had often had dis- 
 cussions with her ; but now she entirely misapprehended what 
 he said to her. 
 
 " For your own soul it is certainly important; to think 
 of that is above every thing," said she with a sigh. " Here 
 is Parfen Denisitch : although he could not read, yet may 
 God give us all to die as he did ! They confessed him and 
 gave him extreme unction " 
 
 "I did not mean that," said he: "I mean that I am 
 working for my own profit. It would be more profitable to 
 me if the muzhiks would work better." 
 
 4i Da! you will only have your labor for your pains. The 
 lazy will be lazy. Where there's a conscience, there'll be 
 work : if not. nothing will be done." 
 
 " Nn! da! But don't you yourself say that Ivan is be- 
 ginning to look out for the cows better? " 
 
 " I say this one thing," replied Agafya Mikhailovna, evi-
 
 362 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 dently following a thought that was not new to her: "You 
 must get married, that's what." 
 
 Agafya Mikhailovna's observation about the very matter 
 that pre-occupied him angered him and insulted him. He 
 frowned, and, without replying, sat down to his work again. 
 Occasionally he heard the clicking of Agafya Mikai'lovua's 
 needles ; and, remembering what he did not wish to remem- 
 ber, he would frown. 
 
 At nine o'clock the sound of bells was heard, and the 
 heavy rumbling of a carriage on the muddy road. 
 
 " Nu! here's some visitors coming to see you : you won't 
 be bored any more," said Agafya Mikhailovna, rising, and 
 going to the door. But Levin stepped ahead of her. His 
 work did not progress now, and he was glad to see any guest. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 As Levin went down-stairs he heard the sound of a 
 familiar cough ; but the sound was somewhat mingled with 
 the noise of footsteps, and he hoped that he was mistaken. 
 Then he saw the tall but bony figure which he knew so well. 
 But even now, when there seemed to be no possibility of 
 deception, he hoped still that he was mistaken, and that this 
 tall man who was divesting himself of his shuba, and cough- 
 ing, was not his brother Nikolai. 
 
 Levin loved his brother, but it was always extremely 
 disagreeable to live with him. Now especially, when Levin 
 was under the influence of the thoughts and suggestions 
 awakened by Agafya Mikhailovna, and was in a dull and 
 melancholy humor, the presence of his brother was indeed an 
 affliction. Instead of a gay, healthy visitor, some stranger, 
 who, he hoped, would drive awa} T his perplexities, he was 
 obliged to receive his brother, who knew him through and 
 through, who could read his most secret thoughts, and who 
 would oblige him to share them with him. And this he dis- 
 liked above all things. 
 
 Angry with himself for his unworthy sentiments, Levin 
 ran down into the vestibule ; and, as soon as he saw his 
 brother, the feeling of personal discomfort instantly dis- 
 appeared, and was succeeded by a feeling of pity. His 
 brother Nikolai was more feeble than he had ever seen 
 him before. He was like a skeleton covered with skin.
 
 ANNA KAE&NINA. 363 
 
 He was standing in the vestibule trying to unwind a 
 scarf from his long, thin neck ; and, when he saw Levin, 
 he smiled with a strangly melancholy smile. When he saw 
 his brother's humble and pitiful smile, he felt a choking 
 sensation. 
 
 " Vot! I have come to you," said Nikolai in a thick voice, 
 and not for a second taking his eyes from his brother's face. 
 " I have been wanting to come for a long time ; da! I was 
 so ill. Now I am very much better," he added, rubbing his 
 beard with his great bony hand. 
 
 "Yes, yes," replied Levin; and, as he touched his 
 brother's shrivelled cheeks with his lips, and saw the gleam 
 of his great, strangely brilliant eyes, he felt a sensation of 
 fear. 
 
 Some time before this, Konstantin Levin had written his 
 brother, that, having disposed of the small portion of their 
 common inheritance, consisting of personal property, a sum 
 of two thousand rubles was due as his share. 
 
 Nikolai said that he had come to get this money, and 
 especially to see the old nest ; to put his foot on the na- 
 tal soil, so as to get renewed strength, like the heroes 
 of ancient times. Notwithstanding his tall, stooping form, 
 notwithstanding his frightful emaciation, his movements 
 were, as they had always been, quick and impetuous. 
 Levin took him to his room. 
 
 Nikolai changed his dress, and took great pains with his 
 toilet, which in former times he neglected. He brushed 
 his coarse, thin hair, and went up-stairs radiant. He was 
 in the same gay and happy humor that Konstantin had 
 seen when he was a child. He even spoke of Sergei 
 Ivanovitch without bitterness. When he saw Agafya Mi- 
 khailovna, he jested with her, and questioned her about the 
 old servants. The news of Parfen Denisitch made a deep 
 impression upon him. A look of fear crossed his face, 
 but he instantly recovered himself. 
 
 "He was very old, was he not?" he asked, and quickly 
 changed the conversation. "Da! I am going to stay a 
 mouth or two with you, and then go back to Moscow. 
 You see, Miagkof has promised me a place, and I shall 
 enter the service. Now I have turned over a new leaf en- 
 tirely," he added. " You see, I have sent away that 
 woman." 
 
 " Mary a Nikolayevua ? How? What for?"
 
 364 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 "Ach! she was a wretched woman ! She caused all sorts 
 of tribulations." But he did not tell what the tribula- 
 tions were. He could not say that he had sent Marya Niko- 
 layevna away because she made his tea too weak, still less 
 because she insisted on treating him as an invalid. 
 
 " Then, besides, I wanted to begin an entirely new kind of 
 life. I think, like everybody else, that I have committed 
 follies: but the present, I mean the last one, I don't 
 regret it, provided only I get better ; and better, thank the 
 Lord ! I feel already." 
 
 Levin listened, and tried, but tried in vain, to find some- 
 thing to say. Apparently Nikolai suspected something of 
 the sort : he began to ask him about his affairs ; and Kon- 
 stantin, glad that he could speak, frankly related his plans 
 and his experiments in reform. 
 
 Nikolai listened, but did not show the least interest. 
 
 These two men were so related to each other, and there 
 was such a bond between them, that the slightest motion, the 
 sound of their voices, spoke more clearly than all the words 
 that they could say to each other. 
 
 At this moment both were thinking the same thought, 
 Nikolai's illness and approaching death ; and all else was idle 
 words. Neither of them dared make the least allusion to it, 
 and therefore all that was said was in realit}' untrue. Never 
 before had Levin been so glad for an evening to end, for 
 bed-time to come. Never, even when obliged to pay official 
 visits, had he felt so false and unnatural as this evening. 
 And the consciousness of this unnaturaluess, and his regret, 
 made him more unnatural still. His heart was breaking to 
 see his beloved dying brother ; but he was obliged to dis- 
 semble, and to talk about what his brother was going to do. 
 
 As at this time the house was damp, and only one room 
 was warm, Levin offered to let his brother share his room. 
 
 Nikolai went to bed, and slept the uneasy sleep of an 
 invalid, turning restlessly from side to side. Sometimes, 
 when it was hard for him to breathe, he would cr}" out, " Ach I 
 Bozlie moil" Sometimes, when the dampness choked him, 
 he would grow angry, and cry out, " Ah, the Devil ! " Levin 
 could not sleep as he listened to him. His thoughts were 
 varied, but they always returned to one theme, death. 
 
 Death, the inevitable end of all, for the first time appeared 
 to him with irresistible force. And death was here, with 
 this beloved brother, who groaned in his sleep, and called
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 365 
 
 now upon God, now upon the Devil. It was with him also : 
 this he felt. Not to-day, but to-morrow ; not to-morrow, but 
 in thirty years : was it not all the same ? And what this 
 inevitable death was, not only did he not know, not only 
 had he never before thought about it, but he had not wished, 
 had not dared, to think about it. 
 
 "Here I am working, wanting to accomplish something, 
 but I forgot that all must come to an end, death." 
 
 He was lying in bed in the darkness, holding his knees, 
 scarcely able to breathe, so great was the tension of his 
 mind. The more he thought, the more clearly he saw that 
 from his conception of life he had omitted nothing except 
 this one little factor, death, which might come, and end all, 
 and that there was no help against it not the least. " Da ! 
 this is terrible, but so it is ! 
 
 " Da! but I am still alive. Now, what can be done about 
 it? what can be done? " he asked in despair. He lighted a 
 candle, and softly arose, and went to the mirror, and began 
 to look at his face and his hair. " Da! " on the temples a 
 few gray hairs were to be seen. He opened his mouth. His 
 teeth showed signs of decay. He doubled up his muscular 
 arms. " Da! much strength. But this poor Nikolinka, who 
 is breathing so painfully with the little that is left of his 
 lungs, also had at one time a healthy body." And suddenly 
 he remembered how when they were children, and were put to 
 bed, they would wait until Feodor Bogdanuitch got out of the 
 door, and then begin a pillow-fight, and laugh, laugh so un- 
 restrainedly, that not even the fear of Feodor Bogdanuitch 
 could quench this exuberant gayety of life. " But now there 
 he lies in bed with his poor hollow chest and I ignorant 
 wh\", and what will become of me " 
 
 ' Kha! kha! ah! what the Devil are you doing? Why 
 don't you go to sleep? " demanded his brother's voice. 
 
 " I don't know ; insomnia, I guess." 
 
 "But I have been sleeping beautifully. I have not had 
 any sweat at all. Just feel, no sweat." 
 
 Levin felt of him, then he got into bed again, put out the 
 caudle, but it was long before he went to sleep. Still in his 
 mind arose this new question, how to live so as to be ready 
 for the inevitable death ? 
 
 " Nu! he is dying ! Nu! he will die in the spring. Nu! 
 how to aid him ? What can I say to him ? What do I know 
 about it? I had even forgotten that there was such a 
 thing."
 
 366 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 Levin had long been acquainted with the fact that often- 
 times the gentleness and excessive humility of some people 
 are abruptly transformed into unreasonableness and peremp- 
 toriness. He foresaw that this would be the case with his 
 brother ; and in fact, Nikolai's sweet temper was not of long 
 duration. On the very next morning he awoke in an ex- 
 tremely irritable temper, and immediately began to stir up 
 his brother by touching him in the most tender spot. 
 
 Levin was conscious of his fault, but he could not be frank. 
 He felt that if they had not dissimulated their thoughts, but 
 had spoken from their very hearts, they would have looked 
 into each other's eyes, and he would have said only this : 
 " You are going to die, }'ou are going to die ; " and Nikolai' 
 would have answered only this: "I know that I am dying, 
 and I am afraid, afraid, afraid." And they would have said 
 more if they had spoken honestly from their hearts. But as 
 this sincerity was not possible, Konstantin endeavored, always 
 without success, to speak of indifferent subjects ; and he felt 
 that his brother divined his insincerity, and was therefore 
 irritated and angry, and found fault with all that he said. 
 
 On the third day Nikolai began to discuss the question of 
 his brother's reforms, and to criticise them, and in a spirit 
 of contrariety to confound his scheme with communism. 
 
 " You have only taken your idea from some one else ; 
 and you distort it, and want to apply it to what is not 
 suited to receive it." 
 
 "Da! but I tell you that the two have nothing in com- 
 mon. I have no thought of copying communism, which 
 denies the right of property, of capital, of inheritance ; but 
 I do not disregard these stimuli." Levin would have pre- 
 ferred to use some other word, but at this time he found 
 himself, in spite of him, compelled to use non-Russian 
 words. " All I want is, to regulate labor." 
 
 ' ' In other words, you borrow a foreign idea : you take 
 away from it all that gives it force, and you pretend to 
 make it pass as new," said Nikolai, angrily twitching at 
 his necktie. 
 
 " Da! my idea has not the slightest resemblance " 
 
 "This idea," interrupted Nikolai, smiling ironically, and 
 with an angry light in his eyes, "communism, has at 
 least one attractive feature, and you might call it a geo- 
 metrical one, it has clearness and logical certainty. Maybe 
 it is a Utopia. But let us agree that it can produce a new
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 367 
 
 form of work by making a tabula rasa of the past, so that 
 there shall not be property or family, but only freedom of 
 labor. But you don't accept this " 
 
 " But why do you confound them? I never was a com- 
 munist." 
 
 " But I have been : and I believe that if communism is 
 premature, it is, at least, reasonable ; and it is as sure to 
 succeed as Christianity was in the early centuries." 
 
 "And I believe that labor is an elemental force, which 
 must be studied from the same point of view as the natural 
 sciences, to learn its constitution and " 
 
 "Da/ this is absolutely idle. This force goes of itself, 
 and takes different forms, according to the degrees of its 
 enlightenment. Everywhere this order has been followed, 
 slaves, then metayers, free labor, and, here in Russia, there 
 is the farm, the arend [leased farms], manufactures. 
 What more do you want? " 
 
 Levin took fire at these last words, the more because he 
 feared in his secret soul that his brother was right in blam- 
 ing him for wanting to discover a balance between com- 
 munism and the existing forms. 
 
 " I am trying to find a form of labor which will be prof- 
 itable for all, for me and the workingman," he replied 
 warmly. 
 
 "That is not what you wish to do; it is simply this: 
 you have, all your life long, sought to be original ; and 
 you want to prove that 3*ou are not exploiting the muzhik, 
 but are working for a principle." 
 
 "Nu ! since you think so let's quit," replied Konstantin, 
 feeling the muscles of his right cheek twitch involuntarily. 
 
 " You never had any convictions, and you only wanted 
 to flatter your conceit." 
 
 " Nu! that is very well to say, but let's quit this." 
 
 " Certainly I will stop. You go to the Devil ! and I am 
 very sorry that I came." 
 
 Levin tried in vain to calm him. Nikolai' would not listen 
 to a word, and persisted in saying that they had better sepa- 
 rate ; and Konstantin saw that it was not possible to live 
 with him. 
 
 Nikolai' had already made his preparations to depart, when 
 Koustantiu came to him, and begged him, in a way that was 
 not entirely natural, for forgiveness, if he had offended him. 
 
 "Ah, now! here's magnanimity," said Nikolai, smiling.
 
 368 ANNA 
 
 "If you are very anxious to be in the right, then let us agree 
 that this is sensible. You are right, but I am going all the 
 same." 
 
 At the last moment, however, as Nikolai kissed his brother, 
 a strange look of seriousness came on him. " Kostia," he 
 said, " don't lay it up against me." And his voice trem- 
 bled. 
 
 These were the only words which were spoken sincerely. 
 Levin understood what they meant. " You see and know 
 that I am miserable, and we may not meet again." And the 
 tears came into his eyes. Once more he kissed his brother, 
 but he could not find any thing to say. 
 
 On the third day after his brother's departure, Levin went 
 abroad. At the railway station he met Shcherbatsky, Kitty's 
 cousin, and astonished him greatly by his melancholy. 
 
 " What is the matter? " asked Shcherbatsky. 
 
 " Da! nothing, except that there is little happiness in this 
 world." 
 
 "Little happiness? Just come with me to Paris instead 
 of going to some place like Mulhouse. I'll show you how 
 gay it is." 
 
 " No, I am done for. I am ready to die." 
 
 " What a joke! " said Shcherbatsky, laughing. "I am 
 just learning how to begin." 
 
 " I felt the same a little while ago, but now I know that 
 my life will be short." Levin said what he honestly felt at 
 this time. All that he saw before him was death. But still 
 he was just as much interested as ever in his projects of 
 reform. It was necessary to keep his life occupied till death 
 should come. Darkness seemed to cover every thing ; but he 
 felt that the. only way for him to pass through the darkness 
 was to occupy himself with his labors of reform, and he 
 clung to them with all the force of his character.
 
 ANNA EAR&NINA. 369 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 I. 
 
 KARENIN and his wife continued to live under the same 
 roof, to meet every day, and yet to remain entire strangers 
 to each other. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch made a point of 
 avoiding comments from the servants by appearing with his 
 wife, but he seldom dined at home. Vronsky was never 
 seen there : Anna met him outside, and her husband knew it. 
 
 All three suffered from a situation which would have been 
 intolerable, had not each believed it to be transitory. Alek- 
 sei Aleksandrovitch expected to see this passion, like every 
 thing else in the world, come to an end before his name was 
 dishonored. Anna, the cause of all the trouble, and the one 
 on whom the consequences weighed the most cruelly, only ac- 
 cepted her position in the conviction that a crisis was near at 
 hand. As to Vronsky, he had come to believe as she did. 
 
 Towards the middle of the winter Vronsky had to spend a 
 tiresome week. He was delegated to show a foreign prince 
 about St. Petersburg ; and this honor, due to his irreproach- 
 able bearing, and his familiarity with foreign languages, was 
 disagreeable to him. The prince was anxious to be able to 
 answer any questions that might be put to him on his return, 
 and at the same time to enjoy all the pleasures peculiar to the 
 country ; so he had to be instructed during the day, and 
 amused in the evening. This prince enjo}-ed exceptionally 
 good health, even for a prince ; and, owing to the scrupu- 
 lous care he took of himself, he could endure excessive fa- 
 tigue, remaining all the while as fresh as a great, green, 
 shiny Dutch cucumber. He had been a great traveller, rec- 
 ognizing in the great advantage of easy modern communi- 
 cation a means of amusing himself in various ways. In 
 Spain he had given serenades, and fallen in love with a 
 Spauish girl who played the mandolin ; in Switzerland he
 
 370 ANNA KAENINA. 
 
 had chased the chamois ; in England leaped ditches in a red 
 shooting-jacket, and shot two hundred pheasants on a wager ; 
 in Turkey he had penetrated a harem ; in India he had rid- 
 den the elephant ; and now he intended to taste the pleasures 
 of Russia. 
 
 Vronsky, as master of ceremonies, arranged, with no little 
 difficulty, a programme of amusements, truly Russian in 
 character. There were races, blinui, or carnival cakes, bear- 
 hunts, troika parties, gypsies, and feasts set forth with 
 Russian dishes, and the prince quickly entered into the spirit 
 of these Russian sports, broke his waiter of glasses with the 
 rest, took a gypsy girl on his knee, and then asked himself 
 if the whole pleasure of the Russians consisted only in this, 
 without going farther. 
 
 More than in all the pleasures which the Russians could 
 offer him, the prince took delight in French actresses, ballet- 
 dancers, and white-seal champagne. 
 
 Vronsky was well acquainted with princes, but either be- 
 cause he had changed of late, or else because he had too 
 close a view of this particular prince, this week seemed ter- 
 ribly long to him. He experienced the feelings of a man 
 placed in charge of a dangerous lunatic, who dreaded his 
 patient, and feared for his own reason. In spite of the 
 official reserve which restrained him, he grew red with anger 
 more tMan once, in listening to the prince's remarks about 
 the Russian women whom he condescended to study. What 
 irritated Vronsky most violently about this man, was that he 
 found in him a reflection of his own individuality, and it was 
 not a flattering mirror. The image that he saw there was 
 that of a very stupid, very self-confident, very healthy, fas- 
 tidious man, of even temperament with his superiors, simple 
 and good-natured with his equals, coolly kind towards his 
 inferiors. He was a gentleman, and Vronsky could not deny 
 the fact. Vronsky conducted himself in exactly the same 
 way, and was proud of it : but in his relations to the prince 
 he was the inferior, and this contemptuous treatment of him- 
 self nettled him. "Stupid ox! Is it possible that I am 
 like him?" he thought. So, at the end of the week, when 
 he took leave of the prince, who was on his way to Moscow, 
 he was delighted to be delivered from this inconvenient situ- 
 ation and this disagreeable mirror. They went directly to 
 the station from a bear-hunt, which had occupied all the night 
 with brilliant exhibitions of Russian daring.
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 371 
 
 IT. 
 
 ON his return home, Vronsky found a note from Anna. 
 " I am ill and unhappy," she wrote. " I cannot go out, and 
 I cannot live longer without seeing you. Come this evening. 
 Aleksei Aleksamlrovitch will be at the council from seven 
 o'clock till ten." This invitation, given in spite of her hus- 
 band's formal prohibition, seemed strange to him ; but he 
 finally decided to go to Anna's. 
 
 Since the beginning of the winter, Vronsky had been a 
 colonel, and since he had left the regiment he lived alone. 
 After breakfast he stretched himself out on the sofa, and 
 the recollection of the scenes of the day before became curi- 
 ously mingled in his mind with Anna and a peasant, whom 
 he met at the hunt : he finally fell asleep, and when he 
 awoke, night had come. He lighted a candle, with an im- 
 pression of fear that he could not explain. " What has hap- 
 pened to me? What terrible dream have I had?" he asked 
 himself. " Yes, yes, the peasant, a dirty little man, with 
 a dishevelled beard, bent something or other up double, and 
 pronounced some strange words in French. I didn't dream 
 any thing else: why am I so terrified?" But, in recalling 
 the peasant and his incomprehensible French words, he be- 
 gan to shiver from head to foot. " What foolishness ! " he 
 thought as he looked at his watch. It was more than half- 
 past eight : he called his servant, dressed quickly, went out, 
 and, entirely forgetting his dream, thought only of being late. 
 
 As he approached the Karenins' house, he again looked at 
 his watch, and saw that it was ten minutes of nine. A 
 coupe, drawn by two gray horses, stood in front of the door : 
 he recognized Anna's carriage. "She is coming to my 
 house," he said to himself: "that will be much better. I 
 hate this house, but, however, I am not going to appear as if 
 I wished to conceal myself; " and with the presence of mind 
 of a man accustomed from childhood to put himself at his 
 ease, he left his sleigh, and mounted the steps. The door 
 opened, and the Swiss servant, carrying a plaid, motioned to 
 the carriage to draw near. As little observing as Vronsky 
 was, he was struck by the astonished look on the Swiss ser- 
 vant's face : he went on, however, and came near running 
 against Aleksei Aleksandrovitch. A gaslight placed at the 
 entrance of the vestibule threw full light on his pale, worn
 
 372 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 
 
 face. He wore a black hat ; and his white cravat, tied 
 under a fur collar, was conspicuous. Karenin's gloomy, dull 
 eyes fixed themselves upon Vronsky, who bowed. Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch, drawing his lips together, lifted his hand to 
 his hat, and passed. Vronsky saw him get into his carriage 
 without turning round, take his plaid and opera-glass, which 
 the Swiss servant handed through the door, and disappear. 
 
 " What a situation ! " thought Vronsky, as he entered the 
 ante-room, his eyes burning with anger. " If he still wished 
 to defend his honor, I should know what to do to express 
 my sentiments in some sort of passion ; but this weakness, 
 and this cowardice. I appear as though I had come to 
 deceive him, which is not true." 
 
 Since the explanation that he had had with Anna in the 
 Vrede garden, Vronsky's idea had changed very much: he 
 had renounced all dreams of ambition incompatible with his 
 irregular situation, and only thought of the possibility of a 
 rupture ; thus was he ruled by the weaknesses of his friend, 
 and by his feelings for her. As to Anna, after having given 
 herself up entirely, she expected nothing in the future which 
 did not come from Vronsky. While crossing the reception- 
 room, he heard footsteps drawing near, and knew that she 
 was entering the drawing-room near by, to watch for him. 
 " No," she cried, seeing him enter, " things cannot go on in 
 this way ! " And at the sound of her own voice, her eyes 
 filled with tears. 
 
 " What is the matter, my friend ?" 
 
 " I have been waiting in torture for two hours ; but no, I 
 do not want to quarrel with you. If you had not come, it 
 would have been because you could not. No, I will not 
 scold you any more." 
 
 She put her two hands on his shoulders, and looked at 
 him long, with her eyes deep and tender, although search- 
 ing. She looked at him for all the time that she had not 
 seen him, comparing, as she always did, the impression made 
 by the present moment, with the memory he had left her, 
 and feeling, as she always did, that imagination was carried 
 away by reality. 
 
 III. 
 
 "Din you meet him ?" she asked, when they were seated 
 under the lamp by the drawing-room table. "That is your 
 punishment for coming so late."
 
 ANNA KATttiNINA. 373 
 
 " How is that so? Oughtn't he to have gone to the coun- 
 cil?" 
 
 " He went there, but he came back again to go, I know not 
 where. But that is no matter ; let us talk no more about it ; 
 tell me where you have been all this time with the prince." 
 
 She knew the most minute details of his life. 
 
 He wanted to reply that as he had no rest the night before, 
 he allowed himself to oversleep ; but the sight of her happy, 
 excited face made this acknowledgment difficult, and he 
 excused himself on the plea of having been obliged to 
 present his report after the prince's departure. 
 
 " It is over now, is it ? Has he gone? " 
 
 "Yes, thank the Lord! You have no idea how intoler- 
 able this week has seemed to me." 
 
 " Why so? Have you not been leading the life customary 
 to }xm young people?" she said, frowning, and, without 
 looking at Vronsky, taking up some crocheting that was 
 lying on the table. 
 
 "I renounced that life long ago," he replied, trying to 
 discover the cause of the sudden change iu her beautiful 
 face. "I assure you," he added, smiling, and showing his 
 white teeth, "that it was overpoweringly unpleasant to me 
 to look at that old life again, as it were, in a mirror." 
 
 She did not reply, but gave him a strange, not quite 
 friendly, look, and kept her crocheting in her hand, though 
 she did not work. 
 
 "Liza came to see me this morning they came to my 
 house again, in spite of the Countess Lidia Ivanovua and 
 told me about your Athenian nights. What an abomina- 
 tion ! " 
 
 "I want to tell you" 
 
 "That you are odious, you men! How can you suppose 
 that woman forgets?" said she, growing more and more 
 animated, and then disclosing the cause of her irritation, 
 " and above all a woman, who, like myself, can know noth- 
 ing of your life except what you wish to tell her? And can 
 I know whether it is the truth? " 
 
 "Anna! have you no longer any faith in me? Have I 
 ever concealed any thing from you? " 
 
 "You are right ; but if you only knew how I suffer ! " she 
 said, trying to drive away her jealous fears. " I believe in 
 you, I do believe in you : what did you want to say to me?" 
 
 He couldn't remember. Anna's fits of jealousy were
 
 374 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 becoming frequent, and, however much he tried to conceal 
 it, these scenes, although proofs of love, made him grow 
 cool towards her. How many times had he not said to him- 
 self that happiness existed for him only in this love ; and 
 now that he felt himself loved passionately, as is onh' possi- 
 ble to a man for whom a woman has sacrificed every thing, 
 happiness seemed farther off than when he left Moscow. 
 
 " AVell, tell me what you have to sa}- about the prince," 
 replied Anna. " I have driven away the demon " (for thus 
 they called her fits of jealousy between themselves): "you 
 began to tell me something. In what way was his stay so 
 disagreeable ?" 
 
 " He was unbearable," replied Vronsky, trying to pick up 
 the thread of his thought again. " The prince doesn't improve 
 on close acquaintance. I can only compare him to one of 
 those highly fed animals which take prizes at exhibitions," 
 he added, with an air of vexation, which seemed to interest 
 Anna. 
 
 "But isn't he a well-infonned man, who has travelled a 
 great deal ? ' ' 
 
 "One would say that he was well informed only for the 
 sake of scorning information, as he scorns every thing else, 
 except material pleasures." 
 
 " But are you not also fond of all these pleasures your- 
 self? " said Anna, with a sad look, which again struck him. 
 
 " Why do you try to defend him? " he asked, smiling. 
 
 "I am not trying to defend him: I don't care enough 
 about him for that. But I can't help thinking, if that life 
 was so distasteful to you, you might have dispensed with 
 going to admire that Therese in the costume of Eve." 
 
 " There is the demon coming back again," said Vronsky, 
 drawing one of Anna's hands towards him to kiss. 
 
 " Yes : it is stronger than I. You can't imagine what I 
 suffered while I was waiting for }'ou. I do not think I am 
 jealous in the bottom of my heart : when you are here, I 
 believe in you ; but when you are away, leading a life so 
 incomprehensible to me " 
 
 She drew away from him, and began to work nervousby, 
 drawing her crochet-needle thr4ugh the stitches of white 
 wool, which gleamed in the lamplight. 
 
 "Tell me how you met Aleksi Aleksandrovitch," she 
 asked suddenly, in a voice still constrained. 
 
 " We almost ran against each other at the door."
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 375 
 
 " And did he greet you like this?" She drew down her 
 face, half closed her eyes, and changed her whole expression 
 to such an extent, that Vronsky could not help recognizing 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch. He smiled, and Anna began to 
 laugh, with that fresh, ringing laugh, which was one of her 
 greatest charms. 
 
 " I do not understand him," said Vronsky. " I should have 
 supposed that after your explanation in the country, he 
 would have broken off with 3*011, and provoked a duel with 
 me ; but how can he bear the actual situation ? One can see 
 that he suffers." 
 
 14 He?" said she, with an ironical smile. "Oh! he is 
 very happy." 
 
 " Why should we all torture ourselves in this way, when 
 every thing might be arranged?" 
 
 " That doesn't suit him. Oh, how well I know his nature, 
 made up of lies ! Who, unless he were devoid of suscepti- 
 bility, could live with a guilty woman, as he lives with me, 
 speaking to her in the affectionate way that he speaks to 
 me? " 
 
 And she imitated the way her husband would say, " You, 
 ma chdre Anna." 
 
 " He is not a man, I tell you : he is a puppet. If I were 
 in his place, I would long ago have torn in pieces a woman 
 like myself, instead of saying, ' You, ma ch&re Anna,' to 
 her : but he is not a man ; he is a ministerial machine. He 
 does not understand that he is no longer any thing to me, 
 that he is in the way. No, no ; let us not talk about him." 
 
 " You are unjust, my dear friend," said Vronsky, trying 
 to calm her; "but no, let us not talk any more about him ; 
 let us talk about yourself, about your health ; what does the 
 doctor say ? ' ' 
 
 She looked at him with gay raillery, and would have will- 
 ingly continued to turn her husband into ridicule ; but he 
 added, "You wrote me that you were suffering; tell me 
 about it." 
 
 The sarcastic smile disappeared from Anna's lips, and gave 
 place to an expression full of sadness. 
 
 " You say that our position is a frightful one. and that it 
 must be changed. I shall not weary you much longer with 
 my jealousy, for soon, very soon, all will be changed, and 
 not in the way we think." 
 
 She grew tender as she spoke of herself ; tears prevented
 
 S76 ANNA KAKNINA. 
 
 her from continuing ; and she placed her white hand, whose 
 rings sparkled in the lamplight, on Vronsky's arm. 
 
 " What do 3'ou mean? " he said. 
 
 " I am going to die very soon ; and I am willing to die, to 
 relieve you both of my burdensome presence." 
 
 Her tears continued to fall, while Vronsky kissed her 
 hands, and tried to conceal his own emotion in calming hers. 
 
 "It is better that it should be so," she said, pressing his 
 hand fervently. 
 
 "But what a foolish idea! " said Vronsky, lifting up his 
 head, and regaining his self-possession. "What utter ab- 
 surdity ! " 
 
 " No : I am telling }-ou the truth." 
 
 " What do you mean by the truth? " 
 
 " That I am going to die. I have seen it in a dream." 
 
 " In a dream?" and Vronsky involuntarily recalled the 
 muzhik (peasant) of his nightmare. 
 
 "Yes, in a dream," she continued, "some time ago. I 
 dreamed that I ran into ni}- room to get something or other : 
 I was searching about, you know, as one does in dreams, and 
 I noticed something standing in the corner of my room." 
 
 ' ' What nonsense ! How do you suppose ' ' But she 
 would not let him interrupt her : what she was telling seemed 
 too important to her. 
 
 "And this something turned around, and I saw a little 
 dirty muzhik, with an unkempt beard. I wanted to run 
 away, but he bent towards a bag, in which he moved some 
 object. ' ' 
 
 She made the motion of a person rummaging in a bag ; 
 terror was depicted on her face ; and Vronsky, recalling his 
 own dream, felt the same terror seize him. 
 
 " And all the while he was searching, he talked fast, very 
 fast, in French, lisping, you know, ' 11 faut la battre, le fer, 
 le broyer, le petrie.' I tried to wake up, but I only woke up 
 in my dream, asking what it could mean. Then I heard 
 some one say to me, ' You are going to die, you are going to 
 die, mdtushka' little mother]. And at last I came to my- 
 self." 
 
 "What an absurd dream!" said Vronsky, ill concealing 
 his own emotion. 
 
 " Let us say no more about it. Ring : I am going to give 
 you some tea, so stay a little longer ; we haven't had any 
 for a long time."
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 377 
 
 She suddenly ceased speaking. Horror and fright disap- 
 peared from her face, which assumed an expression of atten- 
 tive, serious sweetness. 
 
 IV. 
 
 AFTER meeting Vronsky, Alekse"i Aleksandrovitch went, as 
 he had planned, to the Italian opera. He heard two acts, 
 spoke with all to whom he ought to speak, and, returning 
 home, went straight to his chamber, after having assured 
 himself that there was no uniform overcoat in the vestibule. 
 
 Contrary to his usual habit, instead of going to bed he 
 walked up and down his room till three o'clock in the morn- 
 ing. Anger kept him awake, for he couldn't forgive his 
 wife for not fulfilling the one condition that he had imposed 
 upon her, that she should not receive her lover in his house. 
 Since she had paid no attention to this order, he should punish 
 her, carry out his threat, demand a divorce, and take away 
 his son from her. This threat was not easy to execute, but 
 he wanted to keep his word. The Countess Lidia had often 
 said that this was the easiest way out of his deplorable situ- 
 ation ; and at the present time the practice of divorce had 
 become so frequent, and was obtained so easily, that Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch saw in it a means of escaping its formal 
 difficulties. 
 
 Misfortunes never come single ; and the trouble arising 
 from the organization of the foreign population, and the 
 floods in the government of Zarai, so worried him, that for 
 some time he had been in a perpetual state of irritation. He 
 passed the night without sleeping, his anger increasing all 
 the while ; and at last, from sheer exasperation, he left his 
 bed, dressed hastily, and went to Anna as soon as he knew 
 she was up. He was afraid of losing the energy which he 
 needed ; and it was, to a certain extent, as though he carried 
 his cup of grief in both hands, lest it should overflow on the 
 way. 
 
 Anna believed that she thoroughly knew her husband ; but 
 she was amazed to see him come in with gloom}- face, his 
 eyes sadly fixed before him, without looking at her, and his 
 lips compressed with scorn. Never had she seen so much 
 decision in his bearing. He entered without wishing her 
 good-morning, and went directly to the writing-desk, and 
 opened the drawer.
 
 378 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 " What do you wish to find? " cried Anna. 
 
 " Your lover's letters." 
 
 " They are not there," she said, closing the drawer. But 
 he knew by her action that he had guessed aright, and, 
 roughly pushing away her hand, he took possession of the 
 portfolio where Anna kept her important papers. In spite 
 of her efforts to regain it, he held it at a distance. 
 
 " Sit down : I want to speak to you," said he, and placed 
 the portfolio under his arm, holding it so firmly with his 
 elbow that his shoulder was raised by it. 
 
 Anna looked at him, astonished and frightened. 
 
 " Have I not forbidden you to receive your lover in this 
 house? " 
 
 " I needed to see him to " 
 
 She stopped, unable to find a plausible explanation. 
 
 " I will not enter into details, and have no desire to know 
 why a woman needs to see her lover." 
 
 " I only wished," she said, blushing, and feeling that her 
 husband's rudeness made her bold "is it possible that 
 are not aware how easy it is for you to wound me? " 
 
 u One can only wound an honest man or an honest woman ; 
 but to tell a thief that he is a thief, is only the statement of 
 a fact." 
 
 "That is a degree of cruelty that I never recognized in 
 
 you." 
 
 " Ah ! you find a husband cruel because he gives his wife 
 perfect freedom, on the sole condition that she respect the 
 laws of propriety? You call that cruelty, do you? " 
 
 "It is worse than that : it is cowardice, if you insist on 
 knowing," cried Anna passionately, and she rose to go. 
 
 " No," cried he, in a piercing voice, forcing her to sit 
 down again, and taking her by the arm. His great, bony 
 fingers seized her so roughly, that one of Anna's bracelets 
 left a red print on her flesh. "Cowardice, indeed! That 
 applies to her who abandons her son and husband for a 
 lover, and nevertheless eats her husband's bread." 
 
 Anna bowed her head ; the justice of these words over- 
 whelmed her ; she no longer dared to accuse her husband, as 
 she had done the night before, of being de trap, and she 
 replied gently, 
 
 " You cannot judge my position more severely than I do 
 myself ; but why do you tell me that? " 
 
 " Why do I tell you that?" continued he angrily; "so
 
 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 379 
 
 that you may know, that, since you pay no attention to my 
 wishes, I shall take the necessary measures to put an end to 
 this state of affairs." 
 
 " Soon, very soon, it will terminate itself," said Anna, her 
 eyes full of tears at the thought of that death which she felt 
 near at hand, and now so desirable. 
 
 " Sooner even than you and your lover have dreamed of! 
 You only think of yourself : the suffering of one who has 
 been your husband is of little interest to you ; what does it 
 matter that his life has been turned upside down, that he 
 suffers" In his emotion, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch spoke 
 so rapidly that he stammered ; and this stammering seemed 
 ridiculous to Anna, who nevertheless immediately reproached 
 herself because she could be sensible to the ridiculous at 
 such a moment. For the first time, and for a moment, she 
 understood her husband's suffering, and pitied him. But 
 what could she do, except be silent and bow her head? He 
 also was silent, then begun again, in a severe voice, empha- 
 sizing words of no special importance : 
 
 ' ' I came to tell you ' ' 
 
 She glanced at him, and, recalling his stammering, said to 
 herself, " No, this man, with his dull eyes, so full of him- 
 self, cannot feel any thing. I have been the toy of my im- 
 agination." 
 
 " I cannot change," she murmured. 
 
 "I have come to tell you that I am going to leave for 
 Moscow, and that I shall not enter this house again. You 
 will learn of my determination from the lawyer, who will 
 have charge of the preliminaries of the divorce. My son 
 will go to one of my relatives," he added, recalling with 
 difficulty what he wanted to say about the child. 
 
 " You are going to take Serozha away, to cause me pain," 
 she stammered, raising her eyes to his: "you do not love 
 him ; leave him with me." 
 
 " You are right: the repulsion that you have inspired in 
 me reflects on my son ; but I shall keep him, nevertheless. 
 Good-morning." 
 
 He was about to go, but she detained him. 
 
 " Alekse'i Aleksandrovitch, leave Serozha with me," she 
 said again ; " that is all I ask of you ; leave him with me 
 for the present." 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch pushed away the arm that held 
 him back, and left her without replying.
 
 380 ANNA EAR&NINA. 
 
 V. 
 
 THE reception-room of the celebrated lawyer, where Alek- 
 sei Aleksandrovitch now betook himself, was full of people 
 when he entered. Three ladies, one old, another young, and 
 the third evidently belonging to the class of merchants, were 
 waiting there, as well as a German banker wearing a very 
 large ring on his hand, a merchant with a long beard, and a 
 tchinovnik dressed in uniform with a decoration around his 
 neck : they had all, apparently, been waiting a long time. 
 
 Two secretaries were writing with scratching pens : one of 
 them turned his head, with an air of annoyance, towards the 
 new-comer, and, without rising, asked him, with half-closed 
 eyes, 
 
 "What do you want?" 
 
 " I have business with the lawyer." 
 
 "He is busy," replied the secretary severely, pointing 
 with his pen towards those who were already waiting ; and 
 he went back to his writing. 
 
 " Will he not find a moment to receive me? " asked Alek- 
 s6i Aleksandrovitch. 
 
 " He is not at liberty a single moment ; he is always busy : 
 have the goodness to wait." 
 
 " Be so good as to give him my card," said Aleksi Alek- 
 sandrovitch, with dignity, seeing that it was impossible to 
 preserve his incognito. 
 
 The secretary took his card, examined it with an air of 
 displeasure, and went out. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, on principle, approved of judi- 
 ciary reform, but criticised certain details, as much as he was 
 capable of criticising an institution sanctioned by the supreme 
 power. He admitted that there was error in all things, as an 
 inevitable evil, which could be remedied in certain cases ; but 
 the important position given to lawyers by this reform had 
 always been the object of his disapproval, and this reception 
 that he had met with did not destroy his prejudices. 
 
 " The lawj'er will see you," said the secretary, as he came 
 back. 
 
 Accordingly, in about two minutes the door opened, and 
 the lawyer appeared, bringing with him a thin-looking justice 
 of the peace. 
 
 The lawyer was a short, thick-set man, with a bald head,
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 381 
 
 a reddish-black beard, a prominent forehead, and large, 
 shiny eyebrows. His dress, from his necktie and double 
 watch-chain down to his polished boots, was that of a dandy. 
 His face was intelligent, but vulgar ; his manner pretentious 
 and in bad taste. 
 
 "Be so good as to walk in," said he, turning to Alekse"! 
 Aleksandrovitch ; and ushering him into the next room, he 
 closed the door. 
 
 He pushed out an arm-chair near his desk covered with 
 papers, begged Aleksei Aleksandrovitch to be seated, and 
 rubbing his short, hairy hands together, he settled himself 
 in front of the desk, with an air of attention. But he was 
 hardby seated when a moth-miller flew on the table, and 
 the little man, with unexpected liveliness, caught it on the 
 wing : then he resumed quickly his former attitude. 
 
 ' Before beginning to explain my business," said Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch, following the movements of the lawyer with 
 astonishment, ' allow me to ask you to let the subject which 
 brings me here rest between ourselves." 
 
 An imperceptible smile slightly moved the lawyer's lips. 
 
 " If I were not capable of keeping a secret I should not 
 be a lawyer," said he ; " but if you wish to be assured " 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch glanced at him, and noticed that 
 his gray eyes, full of intelligence, had guessed all. 
 
 " Do 3 - ou know my name? " 
 
 " I know you," and again he caught a miller, " and how 
 valuable your services are ; and so does all Russia," replied 
 the lawyer, bowing. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch sighed ; it was with difficulty that 
 he brought himself to speak ; but when he had once begun, 
 he continued, unhesitatingly, in a clear, sharp voice, empha- 
 sizing certain words. 
 
 '' I have the misfortune to be a deceived husband. I wish 
 to obtain legal separation from my wife, that is, a divorce, 
 and, above all, to separate my son from his mother." 
 
 The lawyer's gray eyes did their best to remain serious, 
 but Aleksei Aleksandrovitch could not help seeing that they 
 were full of an amusement which was not caused solely by 
 the prospect of a good suit : they shone with enthusiasm, 
 with triumph, something like the brilliancy he had noticed 
 in his wife's eyes. 
 
 tk You wish my assistance to obtain the divorce? " 
 
 " Exactly; but I run the risk of wasting your time, be-
 
 382 ANNA KAIitiNINA. 
 
 cause I have only come to ask preliminary advice. I wish to 
 remain within certain limits, and I shall give up the divorce 
 unless it is consonant with the forms I wish to keep." 
 
 " Oh ! you will alwa3"s remain perfectly free," replied the 
 lawyer. 
 
 The little man, that he might not offend his client by the 
 delight which his face ill-concealed, fixed his eyes on Aleks6i 
 Aleksandrovitch's feet, and, although out of the corner of 
 one eye he saw another moth-miller flying about, he restrained 
 himself, out of respect to the situation. 
 
 "The general features of the laws of divorce are well 
 known to me," said Karuin, " but I should like to know the 
 different forms customary in the practice." 
 
 " In short, you wish to learn on what grounds you can 
 obtain a legal divorce?" said the lawyer, divining, with a 
 certain pleasure, his client's meaning ; and, at an affirmative 
 gesture from the latter, he continued, casting a furtive glance 
 now and then at Aleksei Aleksandrovitch's face, which 
 burned with emotion. 
 
 "Divorce, according to our laws," he had a shade of 
 disdain for our laws, "is possible, as you know, in the 
 three following cases Let them wait ! " he cried, seeing 
 his secretary open the door. However, he rose, went to say 
 a few words to him, came back, and sat down again : "in. 
 the three following cases : physical defect of one of the par- 
 ties, disappearance of one of them for five years," in 
 making this enumeration he bent down his large, hairy fin- 
 gers, one after another, "and finally the Scriptural rea- 
 son." He said this in a tone of satisfaction. " There you 
 have the theoretical side ; but I think, that, in doing me the 
 honor to consult me, you desire to know the practical side, do 
 you not? So it being neither a case of physical defect, nor 
 absence of one of the parties, as far as I understand? " 
 
 Aleksei Alexandrovitch assented, with an inclination of 
 the head. 
 
 " The reason last named remains, in which case one of 
 the parties must plead guilty." 
 
 The lawyer silently looked at his client, with the air of a 
 gunsmith who explains to a purchaser the use of two pis- 
 tols of different caliber, leaving him free to choose between 
 them. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch remaining silent, he con- 
 tinued, 
 
 "The simplest, the most reasonable way, in my opinion,
 
 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 
 
 is to recognize the guilt by mutual consent. I should not 
 dare to say this to everybody, but I suppose that we under- 
 stand each other." 
 
 Alekse'i Aleksandrovitch was so troubled, that the advan- 
 tage of the last proposition which the lawyer made entirely 
 escaped him, and surprise was painted on his face : the man 
 of law came at once to his aid. 
 
 " Suppose that a man and wife can no longer live together : 
 if both consent to a divorce, the details and formalities 
 amount to nothing. This is the simplest and surest way." 
 
 Aleksi Aleksandrovitch understood now, but his religious 
 sentiments were opposed to this measure. 
 
 " In the present case, this means is out of the question," 
 said he. "Could not proofs, like a correspondence, estab- 
 lish the crime indirectly ? These proofs are in my posses- 
 sion." 
 
 The lawyer, pressing his lips together, uttered an excla- 
 mation both of pity arid disdain. 
 
 " I beg you not to forget that affairs of this sort are in 
 the province of the upper clergy," he said. "Our arch- 
 bishops love to plunge into certain details," he added, with 
 a sigh of sympathy for the taste of these worthy fathers, 
 " and proofs demand witnesses. If you do me the honor to 
 trust your case to me, you must give me the choice of meas- 
 ures to be pursued. Where there is a will, there is a way." 
 
 Alekse'i Aleksaudrovitch arose, looking very pale, while 
 the lawyer again ran to the door, to reply to a fresh inter- 
 ruption from his secretary. 
 
 " Tell her, then, that this is not a cheap shop," he called 
 out, before taking his seat again ; and he caught another 
 moth on the way, muttering sorrowfully, "My reps will 
 surely be ruined by them." 
 
 " You did me the honor to say " 
 
 " I will write you my decision," replied Aleksi Aleksan- 
 drovitch, leaning against the table; "and since I conclude 
 from your words that a divorce is possible, I will be obliged 
 to you if you will make your conditions known to me." 
 
 " Every thing is possible if you will give me entire free- 
 dom of action," said the lawyer, eluding the last question. 
 " When may I expect a communication from you?" asked 
 he, following his client with eyes as shiny as his boots. 
 
 " In eight days. You will then have the goodness to let 
 me know whether you accept the case, and on what terms?"
 
 384 ANNA KAEtiNINA, 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 The lawyer bowed respectfully, conducted his client to the 
 door, and, left alone, his joy knew no bounds : he was so 
 happy, that, contrary to his principles, he made a deduction 
 to a lady skilled in the art of making a bargain. He even 
 forgot the moths, resolving to recover his furniture the next 
 winter with velvet, such as his rival, Sigonin, had. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE brilliant victory won by Aleksi Aleksandrovitch in 
 the assembly of the 1 7th of August had unfavorable results. 
 The new commission, appointed to study the situation of 
 the foreign population, had acted with a promptness sur- 
 prising to Kare'nin : at the end of three months it pre- 
 sented its report. The condition of this population had 
 been studied from political, administrative, economical, eth- 
 nographical, material, and religious points of view. Each 
 question was followed by an admirably concise reply, leaving 
 no room to doubt that these answers were the work, not of 
 a human mind, always liable to mistake, but of an experi- 
 enced bureaucracy. These answers were based on official 
 data, such as the reports of governors and archbishops, 
 based again on the reports of heads of districts and ecclesi- 
 astical superintendents, in their turn based upon the reports 
 from communal administrations and country parishes. How 
 could their correctness be doubted? Questions such as 
 these, "Why are the harvests poor?" and, "Why do the 
 inhabitants of certain localities persist in their beliefs? " 
 questions which the official machine alone could solve, and 
 to which ages would not have found a reply, were clearly 
 solved, in conformity with the opinions of Aleks6i Aleksan- 
 drovitch. 
 
 But Stremof, stung to the quick, had thought of a course 
 unexpected by his adversary. Enlisting several members of 
 the committee in his cause, he suddenly went over to Kare"- 
 nin's side ; and, not satisfied with warmly supporting the 
 measures proposed by the latter, he proposed others, of the 
 same nature, which far outstripped Aleks^i Aleksandro- 
 vitch's intentions. Carried to extremes, these measures 
 seemed so ridiculous, that the government, public opinion, 
 ladies of influence, and the daily papers, were all indignant ;
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 385 
 
 and their dissatisfaction reflected on the originator of the 
 commission, Kareniu himself. 
 
 Delighted with the success of his scheme, Stremof put on 
 an Innocent air, affected astonishment at the results ob- 
 tained, and alleged that his colleague's plan had inspired 
 him with over-confidence. Although ill, and much affected 
 by all these troubles, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch did not give 
 up. The committee was split into two factious : some of 
 them, with Stremof, explained their mistake through over- 
 con fideuce, and declared the reports of the committee of 
 inspection to be absurd ; others, with Kare"nin, fearing 
 this revolutionary method of treating a commission, upheld 
 it. 
 
 Official circles, and even society, saw this interesting ques- 
 tion become so confused, that the misery and the prosperity 
 of the foreign population were equall}' problematical. Kar- 
 nin's position, already threatened by the bad effect caused 
 by his domestic misfortunes, seemed precarious. He then 
 had the courage to make a difficult resolution : to the great 
 astonishment of the commission, he announced that he de- 
 manded the right to go and study these questions himself 
 on the spot ; and, permission having been granted him, he 
 set out for a distant province. 
 
 His departure made a great sensation, especially as he offi- 
 cially refused the travelling-expenses necessary for twelve 
 post-horses. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch went by way of Moscow, and 
 stopped there three days. 
 
 The next day after his arrival, as he was going to visit the 
 governor-general, he heard his name called at the crossing 
 of the Gazetnaia Street, where carriages of every description 
 are always thronging ; and turning at the sound of a gay, 
 sonorous voice, he saw Stepan Arkady evitch on the side- 
 walk. Dressed in an overcoat of the latest fashion, his great 
 stylish hat on one side, his face glowing with 3'outh and good 
 health, he called with such persistency that Karnin was 
 obliged to stop. In the carriage, on the door of which Ste- 
 pan Arkadyevitch was leaning, was a woman in a velvet hat, 
 with two children : she gesticulated to him, smiling amicably. 
 It was Dolly and her children. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch had not counted on seeing in 
 Moscow anybody whom he knew, and least of all his wife's 
 brother; so he would have gone on his way, after bowing :,
 
 386 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 but Oblonsky motioned to the coachman to stop, and ran 
 through the snow to the carriage. 
 
 "How long have you been here? What a shame not to 
 let us know you were coming ! I saw the name of Kareuin 
 on the list of arrivals at Dusseaux's last evening, but it 
 never occurred to me that it was you," said he, passing his 
 head through the door, and striking his feet together to 
 shake off the snow. " How is it that you didn't send us 
 word?" 
 
 " I hadn't time. I am ver} T busy," replied Alekse"i Alek- 
 sandrovitch briefly. 
 
 " Come and speak to my wife : she wants to see you very 
 much." 
 
 Kare"nin threw off the robe which covered his chilly limbs, 
 and, leaving his carriage, made a way through the snow to 
 Dolly's. 
 
 " Why, what has happened, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, that 
 you avoid us in this way? " said she, smiling. 
 
 " I am delighted to see you," replied Kar^nin, in a tone 
 which clearly proved the contrary. " I hope you are well." 
 
 " How is my dear Anna? " 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch muttered a few words, and was 
 about to leave her, but Stepau Arkadyevitch detained him. 
 
 "Do j'ou know what we are going to do? Dolly, invite 
 him to dine to-morrow with Koznuishef and Pestsof , the rep- 
 resentative intellects of Moscow." 
 
 "Oh, do come!" said Dolly: "we will name any hour 
 that is convenient five or six, as you please. Nu! What 
 is my dear Anna doing? It is so long " 
 
 "She is well," muttered Aleksei Aleksandrovitch again, 
 frowning. " Very happy to have met you." 
 
 And he went back to his carriage. " You will come?" 
 cried Dolly again. Kare"nin said something in reply which 
 did not reach her ears. 
 
 "I am coming to see you to-morrow!" cried Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch at the same time. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch shut himself up in his carriage, 
 as though he would like to vanish out of sight. 
 
 "What a strange fellow!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch to 
 Dolly ; and looking at his watch he made an affectionate sign 
 of farewell to his wife and children, and started off at a brisk 
 pace. 
 
 " Stiva, Stiva! " cried Dolly, blushing. He came back.
 
 ANNA KABtiNINA. 387 
 
 "What shall I do about the money for the children's 
 cloaks ? ' ' 
 
 "Tell them that I will settle the bill." And he disap- 
 peared, gayly bowing to some acquaintances as he went. 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE next day was Sunday, and Stepan Arkadyevitch went 
 to the Bolsho'i [Great] theatre, to attend the rehearsal of the 
 ballet ; and taking advantage of the dim light of the green- 
 room, he gave the coral necklace to the pretty dancing-girl 
 who was making her debut under his protection, as he had 
 promised the day before. From the theatre Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch went to the market to select himself some fish and as- 
 paragus for the dinner ; and at noon he went to Dusseaux's, 
 where three travellers, friends of his, by happy chance, were 
 stopping, Levin, just returned from his journey abroad; 
 his new natchalnik [chief], who had just been appointed, 
 and had come to Moscow to look into affairs ; and lastly, 
 his brother-in-law, Kar^nin. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch was fond of a good dinner, but what 
 he liked better still was a choice little dinner-party with a 
 few select friends at his own house. The menu that he made 
 out for this day pleased him, fresh perch, with asparagus, 
 and a simple but superb roast of beef, as piece de resistance, 
 and the right kinds of wine. Among the guests he expected 
 Kitty and Levin, and, to offset them, a cousin and the young 
 Shcherbatsky : the lions of the occasion were to be Sergei 
 Koznuishef, a Muscovite and philosopher; and Karnin, a 
 Petersburger and a man of affairs. As a sort of connecting 
 link, he had invited Pestsof, a charming man of fifty years, 
 an enthusiast, a musician, a ready talker, a historian and a 
 liberal, who always put everybody in good spirits. 
 
 Fortune smiled on Stepan Arkadyevitch at this time : the 
 money from the sale of the wood was not all gone ; Dolly 
 for some time had been lovely and charming ; every thing 
 would have been at its best, if two things had not impressed 
 him disagreeably, without, however, disturbing his good 
 humor : in the first place, his brother-in-law's cool welcome ; 
 uniting the fact of Aleks6i Aleksandrovitch's coolness with 
 certain rumors that had reached his ears about his sister's 
 relations with Vrousky, he suspected serious trouble between
 
 388 ANNA KAEtiNlNA. 
 
 the husband and wife. The second shadow was the arrival 
 of the new nukhalnik, who, like all new chiefs, had the repu- 
 tation of being terribly exacting. An untiring worker, he 
 passed for a veritable bear, and was absolutely opposed to 
 his predecessor's liberal tendencies, which Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch had shared. His first presentation had taken place the 
 day before, in uniform ; and Oblonsky had been so cordially 
 received, that he thought it his duty to pay him an unofficial 
 visit. The thought that the new natchalnik might not receive 
 him cordially was the second disturbing element, but Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch felt instinctively that all would be arranged 
 to perfection. "All people, all men," thought he, "are 
 transgressors as well as we. Why get angry and quarrel? " 
 
 "Well, Vasili," said he, as he went through the corridor, 
 and met a lackey of his acquaintance, " have you sacrificed 
 your whiskers? Levin ? in number seven ? Thanks! Do, 
 you know, is Count Anitchkin at home?" This was the 
 new natchalnik. 
 
 "At your service," said Vasili with a smile. " We have 
 not seen you for a long time." 
 
 "I was here yesterday, but came up another stairway." 
 
 When Stepan Arkadyevitch entered, Levin was standing 
 with a peasant in the middle of his room, measuring a bear- 
 skin. 
 
 "Ah! did you kill him?" cried Stepan Arkadyevitch. 
 "Splendid skin! A bear! Good-morning, Arkhip." He 
 held out his hand to the peasant, and then sat down in his 
 overcoat and hat. 
 
 " Take off your coat, and stay a while," said Levin. 
 
 " I haven't time. I only came in for a little second," 
 replied Oblonsky, which did not prevent him from unbutton- 
 ing his overcoat, then taking it off, and staying a whole hour 
 to talk with Levin about the hunt and other subjects. 
 
 " Nu! Tell me what you did while you were gone : where 
 have you been? " he asked after the peasant had gone. 
 
 " I went to Germany, to France, and England, but only 
 to the manufacturing centres, and not to the capitals. I saw 
 a great deal that was new." 
 
 " Yes, yes. I know your ideas of workingmen's associa- 
 tions." 
 
 " Oh, no ! the question of the workingman doesn't concern 
 us : the only important question for Russia is the relation of 
 the workman to the soil ; the question exists there, but it is 
 impossible to remedy it there, while here "
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 389 
 
 Oblonsky listened attentively. 
 
 " Yes, yes, it is possible that you are right, but I am glad 
 that you are in better spirits : you hunt the bear, you work, 
 you are enthusiastic. Shcherbatsky told me that he had 
 found 3'ou blue and melancholy, talking of nothing but 
 death." 
 
 "What of that? I am continually thinking of death," 
 replied Levin. " It's true that there is a time to die, and 
 that all is vanity. I love to work ; but think of this world 
 just take notice ! this world of ours, a little mould making 
 the smallest of the planets ! and we imagine that our ideas, 
 our works, are something grand. It's all grains of dust ! " 
 
 " All that is as old as the hills, brother ! " 
 
 "It is old ; but when this idea becomes clear to us, how 
 miserable life seerns ! When we know that death will surely 
 come, and that there will be nothing left of us, the most im- 
 portant things seem as insignificant as the turning over of 
 this bear-skin. It is to keep away thoughts of death, that 
 we hunt and work, and try to divert ourselves." 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled, and gave Levin one of his 
 affectionate looks. 
 
 " Nu! Do you know that you pounce upon me because I 
 seek pleasure in life? Be not so severe, O moralist ! " 
 
 " What good there is in life" replied Levin, becoming 
 confused. "Da! I don't know. I only know that we 
 must soon die." 
 
 "Why soon?" 
 
 " And you know, there is less charm in life when we think 
 of death, but more restfulness." 
 
 " We must enjoy what there is of it, any way. But," 
 said Stepan Arkadyevitch, rising for the tenth time, " I 
 must go." 
 
 " Da! Stay a little longer," said Levin, holding him back : 
 " when shall we see each other again? I leave to-morrow." 
 
 "I am a queer fellow. I came to I had entirely forgot- 
 ten what I came for ! I insist on your coming to dine with 
 us to-day. Your brother will be with us : my brother-in-law, 
 Karnin, will be there." 
 
 " Is he here? " asked Levin, who was dying to hear news 
 of Kitty : he knew that she had been in Petersburg at the 
 beginning of the winter, visiting her sister, the wife of a 
 diplomatist. 
 
 k% Whether she has come back or not, it's all the same. I 
 will accept," he thought.
 
 390 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 " Will you come ? " 
 
 " Nu! Of course I will." 
 
 " At five o'clock in frock-coat." 
 
 And Stepan Arkadyevitch rose, and went down to see the 
 new natchalnik. Instinct had not deceived him : this dread- 
 ful man proved to be a good fellow ; he lunched with him, 
 and stayed so long to talk, that it was nearly four o'clock 
 when he reached Aleksei Aleksandrovitch's. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 AFTER he returned from mass, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 
 spent the morning in his room. He had two things to ac- 
 complish on this day : first, to receive a deputation of foreign- 
 ers ; and then to write to his lawyer, as he had promised. 
 
 He had a long discussion with the members of the depu- 
 tation, heard their complaints and their needs, made out a 
 programme, from which they were not to deviate on any ac- 
 count in their dealings with the government, and finally gave 
 them a letter of introduction to the Countess Lidia Ivanovna, 
 who would be his principal auxiliary in this matter: the 
 countess has a specialty for deputations, and knew better 
 than anybody else how to manage them. When he had dis- 
 missed these people, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch wrote to his 
 lawyer, giving him full power to do as he thought best, and 
 sent three notes of Vronsky's, and one from Anna, which he 
 had found in the portfolio. 
 
 Just as he was sealing his letter, he heard Stepan Arkad- 
 yevitch's clear voice asking the servant if bis brother-in-law 
 were at home, and insisting upon being announced. 
 
 " So much the worse," thought Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, 
 " or rather, so much the better. I will tell him how it is, and 
 he will understand that it is impossible for me to dine at his 
 house." 
 
 " Come in," he cried, gathering up his papers, and push- 
 ing them into a writing-case. 
 
 "JV-M/ but you see you lied, and he is at home," said 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch to the servant, who would not let him 
 in : then taking off his overcoat as he walked along, he came 
 into Aleks6i Aleksandrovitch's room. 
 
 " I am delighted to find," he began gayly. " I hope" 
 
 "It will be impossible for me to go," replied Alekse'i
 
 ANNA KAE&NINA. 391 
 
 Aleksandrovitch curtly, receiving his brother-in-law stand- 
 ing, without asking him to sit down, resolved to adopt with 
 his wife's brother the cool relations which seemed proper 
 since he had decided to get a divorce. He forgot Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch 's irresistible kindness of heart. Oblonsky 
 opened wide his beautiful bright eyes. 
 
 " Why can't you come? Won't you tell me?" he asked 
 in French with some hesitation. " But you promised to 
 come, and we count on you." 
 
 " I wish to tell you that I cannot come because our family 
 relations must be broken." 
 
 " How is that? Why? " said Oblonsky with a smile. 
 
 " Because I think of getting a divorce from my wife, your 
 sister. I must " 
 
 The sentence was not finished, for Stepan Arkadyevitch, 
 contrary to his brother-in-law's expectations, sank into an 
 arm-chair, with a deep sigh. 
 
 " Aleks6i Aleksandrovitch, it can't be possible," he cried, 
 with pain expressed in his face. 
 
 "It is true." 
 
 "Pardon me. I cannot, I cannot believe it." 
 
 Alekse"i Aleksandrovitch sat down : he felt that his words 
 had not produced the desired effect, and that no explanation, 
 however categorical, would change his relations with Oblon- 
 sky. 
 
 "It is a cruel necessity, but I am forced to demand the 
 divorce," he replied. 
 
 " I will say only one filing to you. I know you for a man 
 of principle, and Anna for one of the best of women, ex- 
 cuse me if I cannot change my opinion of her, I cannot 
 believe it: there must be some misunderstanding ! " 
 
 " Da ! if it were only a misunderstanding ! " 
 
 " Excuse me : I understand ; but I beg of you, do not be 
 in haste." 
 
 " I have done nothing hastily," said Alekse"i Aleksandro- 
 vitch ; "but in such a case, one cannot ask advice of any- 
 body : I am decided." 
 
 " It is terrible," sighed Stepan Arkadyevitch. " I beseech 
 you, if, as I understand, proceedings have not 3'et begun, 
 not to do any thing until you have talked with my wife. She 
 loves Anna like a sister, she loves you, and she is a woman 
 of good sense. For God's sake, talk with her. Do me this 
 favor, I beg of you."
 
 392 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch was silent, and was considering. 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch respected his silence : he looked at him 
 sympathetically. 
 
 " Why not come and dine with us, at least to-day? My 
 wife expects you. Come and talk with her : she is, I assure 
 you, a superior woman. Talk with her, I beg of you." 
 
 "If you wish it for this reason, I will go," said Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch, sighing. And to change the conversation, 
 he asked Stepan Arkadyevitch how he liked his new natchal- 
 nik, a man still young, whose rapid advancement was aston- 
 ishing. Alekse"i Aleksandrovitch had never liked Count 
 Anitchkin, and he couldn't help a feeling of envy natural to 
 an official with failure staring him in the face. 
 
 " He is a man who seems to be very well informed and 
 very active." 
 
 " Active? is it possible? but how does he employ his ac- 
 tivity? Is it in doing good, or in destroying what others 
 have done before him? The plague of our government is 
 this scribbling bureaucracy, of which Anitchkin is a worthy 
 representative. ' ' 
 
 "At any rate, he is a very good fellow," replied Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch. "I have just been with him a very good 
 fellow : we lunched together, and I taught him how to make 
 a drink, you know wine and oranges." 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch looked at his watch. " Ach, bdtiush- 
 ka! it is after four o'clock ! and I must see Dolgovoshin. 
 
 "It is decided, then, that you will dine with us, isn't it? 
 Both my wife and myself will feel really hurt if you refuse 
 to come." 
 
 Alekse"i Aleksandrovitch took leave of his brother-in-law 
 very differently from the wa}- in which he had greeted him. 
 
 " I have promised, and I will come," he replied in a mel- 
 anchoVy tone. 
 
 " Thank you ; and I hope you will not regret it." 
 
 And putting on his overcoat in the hall, he shook his fist 
 at the servant's head, and went out. 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE clock had just struck five when the master of the 
 house entered, meeting Serge"! Ivanovitch Kozuuishef and 
 Pestsof at the door. The old Prince Aleksaudr Dmitrievitch
 
 ANNA EARNINA. 393 
 
 Shcherbatsky, Karenin, Turovtsuin, Kitty, and the young 
 Shcherbatsky were already in the drawing-room. Conver- 
 sation was languishing. Darya Aleksandrovna, anxious 
 because her husband was late, did not succeed in enliven- 
 ing her guests, whom the presence of Karenin, in black coat 
 and white necktie, according to the Petersburg custom, in- 
 voluntarily chilled. 
 
 Stepan Arkady evitch excused himself with a jest, and with 
 his usual good grace changed the gloomy appearance of the 
 room in a twinkling : he presented his guests to one another, 
 furnished Koznuishef and Kareniu a subject of conversation, 
 the Russification of Poland, installed the old prince 
 near Dolly, complimented Kitty on her beauty, and went to 
 glance at the dinner-table, and see about the wines. 
 
 Levin met him at the door of the dining-room. 
 
 " I am not late, am I? " 
 
 "'How could you be?" replied Oblonsky, taking him by 
 the arm. 
 
 "Are there mam- people here? Who are they?" asked 
 Levin, blushing involuntarily, and with his glove brushing 
 away the snow from his hat. 
 
 " Nobody but relatives. Kitty is here. Come and let me 
 present you to Karenin." 
 
 Levin grew timid when he knew that he should meet her 
 whom he had not seen since that fatal evening, except for a 
 glimpse of her that he once caught as she sat in her car- 
 riage. 
 
 " How will she seem? Just as she used to? If Dolly had 
 only been right ! Why wasn't she right? " he thought. 
 
 " Ach! Present me to Karenin, 1 beg of you," he suc- 
 ceeded in stammering, as he entered the drawing-room with 
 the courage of despair. 
 
 She was there, and altogether different from what she had 
 been before. 
 
 She saw him the moment he entered ; and her joy was so 
 great, that, while he was greeting Dolly, the poor child was 
 afraid of bursting into tears. Levin and Dolly both noticed 
 it. Blushing and growing pale by turns, she was so agitated 
 that her lips trembled. Levin approached to speak to her : 
 she gave him her cold hand with a smile which would have 
 appeared calm if her moist eyes had not been so brilliant. 
 
 "It is a long time since we have seen each other," she 
 forced herself to say.
 
 394 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 " You have not seen me : but I saw you one day in a car- 
 riage, on the road to Yergushovo, coming from the railway 
 station," replied Levin, glowing with happiness. 
 
 " When was it? " asked she in surprise. 
 
 " You were on your way to your sister's," said Levin, 
 suffocating with joy. "How," thought he, "could I have 
 imputed any thing but innocence to this fascinating creature? 
 Darya Aleksandrovna was right." 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch came to conduct him to Kare'nin. 
 
 " Allow me to make you acquainted," said he, presenting 
 them to one another. 
 
 " Delighted to find you here," said Aleksei Aleksandro- 
 vitch coolly, as he took Levin's hand. 
 
 " What ! do you already know each other? " asked Oblon- 
 sky with surprise. 
 
 " We travelled together for three hours," said Levin, 
 smiling, "but we parted as from a masked ball : at least, it 
 was the case with me." 
 
 "Really? Gentlemen, will you pass into the dining- 
 room?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, pointing towards the 
 door. 
 
 The men followed him, and went to a table, where the za- 
 Jcuska was served. It was composed of six kinds of vodka, 
 as many varieties of cheese, as well as caviare, preserves, 
 and a plateful of French bread, cut in very thin slices. 
 
 The men ate standing around the table ; and, while wait- 
 ing for the dinner, the Russification of Poland began to lan- 
 guish. Just as they were leaving the drawing-room, Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch was trying to prove that the high principles 
 introduced by the Russian administration could alone obtain 
 this result. Pestsof maintained that one nation could only 
 assimilate another by surpassing it in density of population. 
 Koznuishef , with certain restrictions, shared the opinions of 
 both ; and to close this serious conversation with a joke, he 
 added, smiling, 
 
 " The most logical way, then, for us to assimilate foreign- 
 ers, it seems to me, is to have as many children as possible. 
 It is there where my brother and I are in fault ; while you, 
 gentlemen, and above all Stepan Arkadyevitch, are acting 
 the part of good patriots. How many have you?" he asked 
 of the latter, handing him a little glass of cordial. 
 
 Everybody laughed, and Oblonsky most of all. 
 
 "Do you still practise g}'mnastics ? " said Oblonsky, tak-
 
 ANNA KARfiNlNA. 395 
 
 ing Levin by the arm ; and, feeling his friend's tense muscles 
 swell beneath the cloth of his coat, he said, "What biceps! 
 You are a regular Samson." 
 
 " I suppose it is necessary to be endowed with remarkable 
 strength, to hunt bears, isn't it?" said Aleksi Aleksandro- 
 vitch, whose ideas about this sort of hunting were of the 
 vaguest. 
 
 Levin smiled. 
 
 "No: a child could kill a bear;" and he drew back, 
 with a slight bow, to make room for the ladies, who were 
 coming to the table. 
 
 " I hear that you have just killed a bear," said Kitty, try- 
 ing to get her fork into a recalcitrant mushroom, and show- 
 ing her pretty arm a little, as she threw back the lace in her 
 sleeve. "Are there really bears where you live?" she 
 added, half turning her pretty, smiling face towards him. 
 What a charm these words, of so little importance in them- 
 selves ; the sound of her voice ; the motion of her hands, of 
 her arms, and her head, all had for him ! He saw in them 
 a prayer, an act of confidence, a sweet and timid caress, a 
 promise, a hope, even a proof of love, which filled him with 
 happiness. 
 
 "Oh, no! we were hunting in the government of Tver; 
 and it was on my way from there, that I met your brother- 
 in-law, Stiva's brother-in-law, on the train," said he, 
 smiling. "The meeting was very funny." 
 
 And he gave a lively and amusing description of how, 
 after having been awake half the night, he was forced to 
 enter Karenin's car in his polushubok [fur jacket]. 
 
 "The conductor wanted to put me out on account of my 
 appearance ; I felt mortified ; and you, sir," said he, turning 
 towards Karenin, " after scanning my costume, took my 
 part, for which I felt very grateful to you." 
 
 " Travellers' rights to their choice of place are generally 
 too little considered," said Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, wiping 
 the ends of his fingers with his napkin after eating a bit of 
 bread and cheese. 
 
 "Oh! I noticed that you hesitated," replied Levin, smil- 
 ing : " that was why I hastened to open a serious subject of 
 conversation, to make you forget my sheepskin." 
 
 Koznuishef, who was talking with the mistress of the 
 house, and at the same time lending an ear to the conversa- 
 tion, turned his head towards his brother.
 
 396 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 " What makes him look so triumphant? " thought he. 
 
 And really, Levin felt as though he had wings. For she 
 was listening to him, she was taking pleasure in what he 
 said : ever}' other interest disappeared before that. He was 
 alone with her, not only in this room, but in the whole world, 
 and looked down from dizzy heights on these excellent peo- 
 ple, Oblonsky, Karenin, and the rest of humanity. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch seemed entirely to forget Levin and 
 Kitty in placing his guests at table : then suddenly remem- 
 bering them, he put them side by side. 
 
 " Nu! you can sit there," said he to Levin. 
 
 The dinner, elegantly served, for Stepan Arkadyevitch 
 made a great point of this, was a complete success. The 
 Marie-Louise soup, served with little pasties which melted 
 in the mouth, was perfect ; and Matve" , with two servants in 
 white neckties, waited skilfully and noiselessly. 
 
 The success was no less great from a conversational point 
 of view ; sometimes general, sometimes special, it never 
 lagged : and when they left the table, after dinner, even 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch was thawed out. 
 
 X. 
 
 PESTSOF, who liked to discuss a question thoroughly, was 
 not satisfied with Koznuishef's interrupting him : he felt that 
 he hadn't been allowed to express his thought sufficiently. 
 
 " In speaking of the density of the population, I didn't in- 
 tend to make it the principle of an assimilation, but only a 
 means," said he after the soup, addressing himself partic- 
 ularly to Aleksei Aleksaudrovitch. 
 
 " It seems to me that that amounts to the same thing," 
 replied Kareniii slowly. "In my judgment, a people can 
 have no influence over another people unless they are supe- 
 rior in point of civilization ' ' 
 
 "That is precisely the question," interrupted Pestsof, 
 with so much ardor, that he seemed to put his whole soul 
 into defending his own opinions. " How is one to recognize 
 this superior civilization? Which, among the different na- 
 tions of Europe, shall take the lead? Is it France, or Eng- 
 land, or Germany, which shall nationalize her neighbors? We 
 have seen the Rhine provinces nationalized by the French : is 
 it a proof of inferiority on the side of the Germans? No: 
 there is some other law," he cried in his bass voice.
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 397 
 
 ' ' I believe that the balance will always turn in favor of 
 this true civilization." 
 
 " But what are the signs of this true civilization? " 
 
 " I believe that everybody knows them." 
 
 "But are they really known?" asked Sergei Ivanovitch 
 with a subtle smile. " One willingly believes for the mo- 
 ment, that civilization does not exist outside of classical in- 
 struction ; we have furious debates on this point, and each 
 side brings forward proofs that are not lacking in value." 
 
 "Are you in favor of the classics, Sergei Ivanovitch?" 
 said Oblonsky. " Shall I give you some claret? " 
 
 "I am not speaking of my personal opinions," replied 
 Koznuishef, with the condescension that he would have 
 shown a child as he reached his glass. " I only pretend that 
 the reasons alleged are good on both sides," continued he, 
 addressing Kare'nin. " As for my education, it was classi- 
 cal ; but that doesn't hinder me from finding that classical 
 studies do not offer unexceptional proofs of their superiority 
 to others." 
 
 " The natural sciences tend just as much to the pedagogi- 
 cal development of the human mind," replied Pestsof. 
 " Look at astronomy, botany, and zoology, with the unity of 
 their laws ! ' ' 
 
 " That is an opinion that I cannot share," replied Aleks6i 
 Aleksaudrovitch. " Can the happy influence on the develop- 
 ment of intelligence be denied in the study of the forms of 
 language? Ancient literature is eminently moral; while, un- 
 fortunately for us, the study of the natural sciences has 
 been complicated with fatal and false doctrines, which are 
 the bane of our time." 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch was going to reply, but Pestsof inter- 
 rupted him in his deep voice, to demonstrate, with excite- 
 ment, the injustice of this statement : when Koznuishef at 
 last had a chance to speak, he said, smiling, to Aleksi 
 Aleksandrovitch, 
 
 " You acknowledge that the pros and cons of the two sys- 
 tems will be difficult to establish, if the anti-nihilistic let us 
 call it by its right name moral influence does not militate 
 in its favor ? ' ' 
 
 "Undoubtedly." 
 
 " We shall leave the field more free to both systems if we 
 do not look upon classical education as a sort of pill to be 
 offered freely to our patients as an antidote to nihilism. But 
 are we perfectly sure of the healing-properties of these pills?"
 
 398 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 This made everybody laugh, especially the big Turovtsuin, 
 who had tried in vain to be lively until this moment. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch had been right in counting on Pest- 
 zof to carry on the conversation ; for Koznuishef had hardly 
 finished with his jest when he replied, 
 
 " One cannot well accuse the government of proposing a 
 cure, for it remains to all appearances indifferent to the con- 
 sequences of the measure it takes : it is public opinion which 
 directs it. I will quote as an example, the question of 
 higher education for women. It must be looked upon as 
 dangerous, since the government opens the public lectures 
 and the universities to women." 
 
 And the conversation turned upon the new theme of the 
 education of women. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandnrvitch expressed the thought that the 
 education of women was too much confused with their eman- 
 cipation, and could be considered dangerous only from that 
 point of view. 
 
 " I believe, on the contrary, that these two questions are 
 intimately connected," said Pestzof. ''Woman is deprived 
 of rights because she is deprived of education, and the lack 
 of education tends to the absence of rights. Let us not for- 
 get that the bondage of woman is so ancient, so interwoven 
 with our customs, that we are very often incapable of under- 
 standing the legal abyss that separates her from us." 
 
 " You speak of rights," said Sergei Ivanovitch, as soon as 
 he had a chance to put in a word : " is it a right to fulfil the 
 functions of jurist, of municipal counsellor, of president of 
 the tribunal, of public functionary, of member of parlia- 
 ment?" 
 
 "Without doubt." 
 
 " But if women can exceptionally fill these functions, 
 wouldn't it be more fair to give it the name of duties instead 
 of rights? A lawyer, a telegraph employer, fulfils a duty. 
 Let us say, then, to speak logically, that women are seeking 
 for duties, and in this case we shall sympathize with their 
 desire to take part in man's work." 
 
 "That is fair," affirmed Aleksei Aleksandrovitch : "the 
 principal thing is to know whether they are capable of fulfill- 
 ing these duties." 
 
 " They will be, certainly, as soon as they have been gener- 
 ally educated," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. " We see it " 
 
 "And the proverb?" asked the old prince, whose little,
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 399 
 
 scornful eyes shone as he listened to this conversation. " I 
 may repeat it before my daughters : ' Woman has long 
 hair'" 
 
 "That is the way we judged the negroes before their 
 emancipation! " cried Peetsof with dissatisfaction. 
 
 " I admit that what astonishes me most," said Sergei 
 Ivanuitch, " is to see women trying to undertake new duties, 
 when we see, unfortunately, that men shirk theirs as much 
 as possible." 
 
 'Duties are accompanied by rights: honor, influence, 
 money, these are what women are after," said Pestsof. 
 
 ' ; Exactly as though I solicited the right to become a 
 nurse, and found it hard to be refused, while women are paid 
 for it," said the old prince. 
 
 Turovtsuin burst out laughing, and Serg6i Ivanovitch re- 
 gretted that he was not the author of this pleasantry. Even 
 Aleks6i Aleksandrovitch himself smiled. 
 
 "Da! enough of nurses," said Sergei Ivanuitch. "But 
 women " 
 
 " But what about young girls, without any family? " asked 
 Stepan Arkady evitch, who, in taking Pestsof 's part, had been 
 thinking all the time of Chibisovaia, his little dancing-girl. 
 
 " If you look closely into the lives of these young girls," 
 interposed Darya Aleksandrovna, with a shade of bitter- 
 ness, " you will doubtless find that they have left a family or 
 a sister, and that women's duties were within their reach." 
 
 Dolly instinctively understood what sort of women Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch meant. 
 
 " But we are defending a principle, an ideal," answered 
 Pestsof, in his thundering voice. " Woman claims the right 
 to be independent and educated : she suffers from her inabil- 
 ity to obtain independence and education." 
 
 "And I suffer from not being admitted as nurse to the 
 foundling-asylum," repeated the old prince, to the great 
 amusement of Turovtsuin, letting the large cud of a piece of 
 asparagus fall into his sauce. 
 
 XI. 
 
 KITTY and Levin were the only ones who had not taken 
 part in the conversation. 
 
 At the beginning of the dinner, when they were talking 
 about the influence of one people over another, Levin re-
 
 400 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 called the opinions that he had formed on the subject ; but 
 they quickly disappeared, as of no longer any interest ; he 
 thought it strange that people could trouble themselves about 
 such useless questions. 
 
 Kitty, for her part, ought to haVe been interested in the 
 discussion of women's rights, for not only had she often con- 
 sidered them, on account of her friend Varenka, whose de- 
 pendence was so hard to bear, but also on her own account, 
 in case she should not many. She had often had disputes 
 with her sister on the subject. How little interest she felt 
 in it now ! Between Levin and herself there had sprung up 
 a mysterious affinity, which brought them nearer and nearer 
 to one another, and filled them with a joyful fear, on the 
 threshold of the new life that they caught a glimpse of. 
 
 Kitty asked how he had happened to see her in the sum- 
 mer, and Levin told her that he was returning from the 
 prairies by the highway after the mowing. 
 
 " It was very early in the morning. You had probably 
 just waked : your mamma was still asleep in her corner. The 
 morning was superb. I was walking along, saying to my- 
 self, 'A carriage with four horses? Whose can it be?' 
 They were four fine horses with bells. And quick as a 
 flash, you passed before me. I saw } T OU through the door : 
 you were sitting like this, holding the ribbons of your bon- 
 net in your hands, and you seemed plunged in deep thought. 
 How I wished I could know," he added with a smile, " what 
 3'ou were thinking about ! Was it something very impor- 
 tant?" 
 
 " Is it possible that I didn't haA*e my bonnet on? " thought 
 Kitty. But seeing the enthusiastic smile which lighted up 
 Levin's face, she felt re-assured about the impression she had 
 produced, and replied, blushing, and laughing merrily, 
 
 " I really don't know an}' thing about it." 
 
 " How heartily Turovtsuin laughs ! " said Levin, admiring 
 the gayety of this big fellow, whose eyes were moist, and his 
 sides shaking with laughter. 
 
 " Have you known him long? " asked Kitty. 
 
 " Who doesn't know him? " 
 
 " And I see that you think that he is a bad man." 
 
 " That is saying too much ; but he isn't worth much." 
 
 " That is unjust. I beg you not to think so any more," 
 said Kitty. "I, too, once misjudged him ; but he is an ex- 
 cellent man. His heart true gold."
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 401 
 
 " How can you know what kind of a heart he has? " 
 " We are very good friends. Last winter, a short time 
 after after you stopped coming to our house," said she, 
 rather guiltily, but with a confiding smile, " Dolly's children 
 had the sicarlatiua, and one day Turovtsuin happened to call 
 on my sister. Would you believe it? " she said, lowering her 
 voice : " he was so sorry for them, that he staid to take care 
 of the little invalids. For three weeks he played nurse to 
 the children. I am telling Konstautin Dmitritch of Turovt- 
 suin's kindness at the tune of the scarlatina," said she, turn- 
 ing towards her sister. 
 
 " Yes, it was remarkable : it was lovely ! " replied Dolly, 
 looking at Turovtsuiu with a grateful smile. Levin also 
 looked at him, and was surprised that he had never under- 
 stood him till then. 
 
 XII. 
 
 THE discussion about the emancipation of women was a 
 delicate one to carry on in the presence of the ladies, so it 
 was dropped. But as soon as dinner was over, Pestsof ad- 
 dressed Aleksi Aleksandrovitch, and tried to explain this 
 question from the stand-point of inequality of rights between 
 husband and wife in marriage ; the principal reason for this 
 inequality depending, in his opinion, on the difference estab- 
 lished bylaw, and by public opinion, between the infidelity of 
 a wife and that of a husband. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch suddenly offered a cigar to Kareniu. 
 
 " No, I do not smoke," replied the latter calmly ; and as 
 if to prove that he was not afraid of this conversation, he 
 turned towards Pestsof with his icy smile. 
 
 " This inequality goes, it seems to me, to the very root of 
 things," said he, and he turned towards the drawing-room ; 
 but here Turovtsuin again interrupted him. 
 
 " Have you heard the story about Priatchnikof ? " he 
 asked, animated by the champagne, and taking advantage 
 of a moment that he had been impatiently awaiting, to break 
 a silence which weighed heavily on him. " Vasia Priatch- 
 nikof?" and he turned towards Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, 
 as towards the most important guest, with a good-natured 
 smile on his thick lips, red and moist. " I heard, this 
 morning, that he fought a duel at Tver, with Kvuitsky, and 
 killed him."
 
 402 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 
 
 The conversation seemed fated, on this occasion, to touch 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch on the sore spot. Stepan Arkactye- 
 vitch noticed it, and wished to come to his brother-in-law's 
 assistance; but Kareuin asked, with curiosity, "Why did 
 he fight a duel? " 
 
 "On account of his wife : he behaved bravely about it, 
 for he challenged his rival, and killed him." 
 
 "Ah!" said Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, with unconcern; 
 and, raising his eyebrows, he left the room. 
 
 Dolly was waiting for him in a little parlor, and said, 
 smiling timidly, 
 
 " How glad I am that you came ! I want to talk with you. 
 Let us sit down here." 
 
 Aleksei Aleksaudrovitch, preserving the air of indiffer- 
 ence caused by his elevated eyebrows, sat down near her. 
 
 " All the more willingly," said he, " as I wish to ask you 
 to excuse me for leaving you as soon as possible. I go away 
 to-morrow morning." 
 
 Darya Aleksandrovna, firmly convinced of Anna's inno- 
 cence, was conscious of growing pale and trembling with 
 anger before this heartless, unfeeling man, who coolly pro- 
 posed to ruin her friend. 
 
 "Aleksei Aleksandrovitch," she said, with desperate 
 courage, collecting all her firmness to look him full in the 
 face, " I have asked .you to give me news of Anna, and 
 you have not replied : how is she? " 
 
 " I think that she is well, Darya Aleksandrovna," replied 
 Karenin, without looking at her. 
 
 "Pardon me, if I have no right to insist upon it; but I 
 love Anna like a sister ; tell me, I pray you, what has hap- 
 pened between you and her, and what you accuse her of." 
 
 Kareniu frowned, and bent his head, almost closing his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Your husband must have told you, I think, the reasons 
 which oblige me to break my relations with Anna Arkad- 
 yevna," said he, casting a glance of annoyance towards 
 Shcherbatsky, who was passing through the room. 
 
 " I do not believe it, I do not believe it ! and I never will 
 believe it! " murmured Dolly, pressing her thin hands to- 
 gether energetically. She rose quickly, and, touching Alek- 
 s6i Aleksandrovitch' s arm, said, "We shall be disturbed 
 here : let us go in there, please." 
 
 Dolly's emotion was communicated to Kareuin : he arose,
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 403 
 
 and followed her into the children's schoolroom, where they 
 seated themselves in front of a table covered with an oil- 
 cloth, somewhat the worse for pen-knife strokes. 
 
 " 1 don't believe it, I don't believe it! " repeated Dolly, 
 trying to catch his eye, which avoided hers. 
 
 "One cannot deny facts, Darya Aleksandrovna," said 
 he, dwelling on the word facts. 
 
 " But what has she done? precisely what has she done? " 
 
 " She has failed to do her duty, and betrayed her husband. 
 That is what she has done." 
 
 " No, no ! it is impossible ! no, thank the Lord, you are 
 mistaken! " cried Dolly, putting her hands to her temples, 
 and closing her eyes. 
 
 Aleks^i Aleksaudrovitch smiled coolly out of the corners 
 of his mouth : he wished to prove to Dolly, and to prove to 
 himself, that his conviction was immovable. But at this 
 heated interference, his wound opened afresh ; and although 
 it was impossible for him to doubt, he replied with less cold- 
 ness, 
 
 " It is difficult to make a mistake when a woman herself 
 declares to her husband that eight years of married life 
 and a sou count for nothing, and that she wishes to begin 
 life over again," he replied angrily, dilating his nostrils. 
 
 " Anna and vice ! I cannot associate the two ideas : I can- 
 not believe it." 
 
 " Darya Aleksandrovna ! " said he angrily, now looking 
 straight at Dolly's distressed face, and feeling his tongue 
 involuntarily unloosed, " I would give a great deal to be 
 able still to have any doubts ! Yesterday, doubt was cruel, 
 but the present is still more cruel. When I doubted, I hoped 
 in spite of every thing. Now there is no hope, and, more- 
 over, I have doubted every thing. I am so full of doubt that 
 I cannot bear to see my sou. I sometimes do not believe 
 that he is my son. I am very unhappy ! " 
 
 As soon as Dolly met his look, she understood that he 
 was telling her what was true. She pitied him, and her faith 
 in her friend's innocence was shaken. 
 
 "Adi! it is terrible! but are you really decided about 
 the divorce ? ' ' 
 
 " I have resorted to this at last, because " 
 
 " Don't do it! Don't do it! " said Dolly, with tears in 
 her eyes. " No, don't do it ! " 
 
 " I see no other way to take. The most dreadful thing
 
 404 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 
 
 about a misfortune of this kind is, that one cannot bear his 
 cross as in any other, a loss or a death," said he, divining 
 Dolly's thought. "You cannot remain in the humiliating 
 position brought upon you, on ne pent vivre ct trois! " 
 
 " I understand, I understand perfectly," replied Dolly, 
 bowing her head. She was silent, and her own domestic trou- 
 bles came to her mind ; but suddenly she folded her hands 
 with a supplicating gesture, and, lifting her eyes fearlessly 
 to Kare"niu, " Wait a bit," she said : " you are a Christian. 
 Think what will become of her if you abandon her." 
 
 " I have thought of it. I have thought a great deal about 
 it, Darya Aleksandrovna." He looked at her with troubled 
 eyes, and his face turned crimson. Dolly pitied him now 
 from the bottom of her heart. " When she told me of her 
 disgrace herself, I gave her a chance to re-instate herself. 
 I tried to save her. What did she do then ? She paid no 
 attention to the least of demands, respect to propriety ! " 
 he added, choking. "One can save a man who does not want 
 to perish : but with a nature corrupt to the extent of finding 
 happiness in his destruction, what would you have one do? " 
 
 "Every thing, except divorce." 
 
 " What do you mean by every thing? " 
 
 " Only think that she will no longer be anybody's wife. 
 She will be lost ! It is terrible ! " 
 
 " What can I do? " replied Kare'nin, raising his shoulders 
 and his eyebrows ; and the memory of his last explanation 
 with his wife, suddenly brought him back to the same degree 
 of coldness as at the beginning of the interview. " I am 
 very grateful to you for your sympathy, but I am compelled 
 to leave you," he added, rising. 
 
 "No, wait a moment! you must not give her up : listen 
 to me ; I speak from experience. I, too, am married, and my 
 husband deceived me : in my jealousy and my indignation, 
 I too wished to leave him ; but I considered the matter, and 
 who saved me? Anna. Now I am living again. Now my 
 children are growing up, my husband has returned to his 
 family, knows his wrong-doing, is growing better, nobler. 
 I live, I have forgiven him ; and you ought to forgive her ! " 
 
 Aleks^i Aleksandrovitch listened ; but Dolly's words were 
 of no effect, for the anger which caused him to decide upon 
 a divorce was rankling in his soul. He replied in a loud, 
 penetrating voice, "Forgive her? I cannot, nor do I wish 
 to. It would be unjust. I have done what was next to im-
 
 ANNA KAKtiNINA. 405 
 
 possible for this woman, and she has dragged every thing 
 in the mire, which seems to suit her better. I am not a bad 
 man, and I have never hated anybody before; but her I 
 hate with all the strength of my soul, and I will not forgive 
 her, for she has done me too great wrong! " and tears of 
 anger trembled in his voice. 
 
 k Love them that hate you," murmured Dolly, almost 
 ashamed. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch smiled scornfully. He was famil- 
 iar with these words, but the}" did not apply to his situation. 
 
 " We can love those who hate us, but not those whom we 
 hate. I beg your pardon for having troubled you : sufficient 
 unto every man is his own burden." And having recovered 
 his self -possession, Kaie"nin calmly took leave of Dolly, and 
 went away. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 LEVIN resisted the temptation to follow Kitty into the 
 drawing-room after leaving the table, lest she should be 
 offended by too marked attention from him : he remained 
 with the men, and took part in the general conversation. 
 But, without looking at Kitty, he saw every motion that she 
 made, aud knew just where she was in the drawing-room. 
 At first he fulfilled, without the least effort, the promise that 
 he had made to love his neighbor, and to think nothing but 
 good of him. The conversation turned on the commune in 
 Russia, which Pestsof considered as a new order of things, 
 destined to serve as an example to the rest of the world. 
 Levin agreed as little with him as he did with Sergei Ivan- 
 ovitch, who recognized, and at the same time denied, the 
 value of this institution ; but he tried to reconcile them by 
 toning down the terms which they used, without showing the 
 least partiality in the discussion. His one desire was, to see 
 both of them happy and contented. The one person from 
 henceforth of any importance to him was coming near the 
 door. He felt a look and a smile fixed upon him, and was 
 obliged to look around. She was standing there with 
 Shcherbatsky, and looking at him. 
 
 " I thought you were going to sit down at the piano," said 
 he, approaching her. " Music is what I have to do without 
 in the country." 
 
 " No, we merely came to find you ; and I thank you for
 
 406 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 
 
 coming to us," she replied, recompensing him with a smile. 
 "What pleasure can there be in discussing? Nobody is 
 ever convinced." 
 
 " Da! how true that is ! " 
 
 Levin had so many times noticed that long discussions, 
 with great efforts to be logical, and a great waste of words, 
 often produced no result, that he was delighted to hear 
 Kitty express his thoughts so exactly. Shcherbatsk}- stepped 
 away ; and the young girl, going to a card-table, sat down, 
 and, taking a piece of chalk in her baud, began to draw 
 circles on the cloth. 
 
 " Ach! I have covered the table with my scrawls," said 
 she, laying down the chalk, after a moment's silence, with a 
 movement, as if she were going to rise. 
 
 "What shall I do to stay with her?" thought Levin, 
 terrified. 
 
 " Wait," said he, sitting down near the table. " I have 
 wanted for a long time to ask you something." 
 
 He looked at her fondly, but a little disturbed. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "This is it," said he, taking the chalk, and writing the 
 letters w, y, s, ?', i, i, w, i, i, t, o, a? These letters were the 
 initials of the words, " When you said, 'It is impossible,' 
 was it impossible then, or always? " 
 
 It was not at all likely that Kitty would be able to make 
 out this complicated question. Levin looked at her, never- 
 theless, as though his life depended on whether she could 
 guess these words. 
 
 She studied it seriously, resting her forehead on her hand, 
 and gave her whole attention to deciphering it, interrogating 
 Levin occasionally with her eyes. 
 
 " I know what it is," said she, blushing. 
 
 " What is this word? " he asked, pointing to the i of the 
 word impossible, 
 
 " That letter stands for impossible. The word is not 
 right," she replied. 
 
 He quickly rubbed out what he had written, and gave the 
 chalk to her. She wrote : , /, c, n, a, d. 
 
 Dolly, seeing her sister with the chalk in her hand, a timid 
 and happy smile on her lips, raising her eyes to Levin, who 
 was leaning over the table, beaming now at her, now at the 
 cloth, felt consoled for her conversation with Aleksei Alek- 
 sandrovitch. She saw Levin light up with joy ; he had un- 
 derstood the reply : " Then I could not answer differently."
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 407 
 
 He looked at Kitty timidly and inquiringly. 
 
 "Only then?" 
 
 " Yes," replied the young girl's smile. 
 
 "And now?" he asked. 
 
 " Read this. I will tell you what I wish ; " and she quickly 
 traced the initials of the words, "That you can forgive and 
 forget. ' ' 
 
 He seized the chalk in turn, with his excited, trembling 
 fingers, and replied in the same way, " I have never ceased 
 to love you." 
 
 Kitty looked at him, and her smile died away. 
 
 " I understand," she murmured. 
 
 " You are playing secretaire, are you ? " said the old prince, 
 coming up to them. " Nu! But, if you are going to the 
 theatre, it is time to start." 
 
 Levin rose and accompanied Kitty to the door. This con- 
 versation decided every thing : Kitty had acknowledged her 
 love for him, and had given him permission to come the next 
 morning to speak to her parents. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 AFTER Kitty had gone, Levin felt a restlessness come over 
 him : he dreaded as he dreaded death the fourteen hours to 
 be endured before to-morrow when he should see her again. 
 To pass away the time, he felt it absolutel}- necessary not 
 to remain alone, but to have somebody to talk to. Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch. whom he would have liked to keep with him, 
 was going apparently to a reception, but in reality to the 
 ballet. Levin could only tell him that he was happy, and 
 should never, never forget what he owed to him. 
 
 "What! Then you have nothing more to say about dy- 
 ing?" said Oblonsky, pressing his friend's hand affection- 
 ately. 
 
 " N_N N No," replied the latter. 
 
 Dolly, too, almost congratulated him when she bade him 
 good-night. She said, " How glad I am that you have made 
 up with Kitty !" and her words displeased Levin. Nothing 
 would allow him to allude to his good fortune. To avoid 
 being alone, he joined his brother. 
 
 " Where are you going? " 
 
 " To a meeting." 
 
 ' ' Nu I I'll go with you. May I ? "
 
 408 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 " Why not? " said Sergei Ivanovitch, smiling. " What has 
 happened to 3-011 to-day? " 
 
 "What has happened? Good fortune," said Levin, let- 
 ting clown the carriage window. " Have you any objection? 
 I am suffocating. Why have you never been married? " 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch smiled. 
 
 " I am delighted : she is a charming girl," he began. 
 
 "No, don't say any thing about it, don't say any thing 
 about it! " cried Levin, seizing the collar of his shuba, and 
 covering his face with the fur. A charming girl : what com- 
 monplace words ! and how feebly they corresponded to his 
 feelings ! 
 
 " To-morrow you may speak ; but not another word now, 
 not another word, not another word ! Be silent. I love you 
 very much. What is your subject for discussion to-day?" 
 asked Levin, still smiling. 
 
 They had reached their destination. During the meeting 
 Levin heard the secretary stammer through the report that 
 he did not understand : but he could see, from this secretary's 
 face, that he was a good, amiable, sympathetic fellow ; it was 
 evident from the way that he hesitated and became confused 
 while reading. Then came the debates. They discussed 
 about the disposal of certain sums of money, and the laying 
 of certain sewer-pipes. Sergei Ivanovitch attacked two mem- 
 bers of the commission, and made a triumphant speech 
 against them ; after which another member, reading from a 
 paper, after some timid hesitation, replied briefly in a charm- 
 ing though bitter fashion ; and then Sviazhsky, in his turn, 
 expressed his opinions nobh* and eloquently. Levin listened 
 all the while, feeling that the money to be expended, the 
 sewer-pipes, and the rest, were of no serious importance ; 
 that they were only a pretext to bring together pleasant, con- 
 genial people. Nobody was bored, and Levin noticed with 
 surprise from some trifling incidents which once would 
 have entirely escaped his notice that he could now pene- 
 trate the thoughts of each of the speakers, read their souls, 
 and see what excellent natures they possessed ; and he felt 
 that they all liked him. Those who did not know him seemed 
 to speak to him, to look at him pleasantly and in a friendly 
 manner. 
 
 " Well, how do you like it? " asked Serge" i Ivanovitch. 
 
 " Very much : I never should have believed that it would 
 be so interesting."
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 409 
 
 Sviazhsky approached the two brothers, and invited Levin 
 to come and take a cup of tea at his house. 
 
 " I should be delighted," replied the latter, forgetting his 
 old prejudices ; and he immediately inquired after Madame 
 Sviazhsky and her sister. By a strange association of ideas, 
 as Sviazhsky's sister-in-law suggested marriage, he con- 
 cluded that nobody would be more interested than she and 
 her sister to hear of his happiness. So he was very much 
 pleased with the idea of going to see them. 
 
 Sviazhsky questioned him about his affairs, always refus- 
 ing to admit that any thing could be discovered which had 
 not already been discovered in Europe ; but his theory did 
 not arouse Levin's opposition. Sviazhsky ought to be right 
 on all points, and Levin admired the gentleness and deli- 
 cacy with which he avoided proving it too clearly. 
 
 The ladies were charming. Levin believed that they 
 knew all, and that they shared his joy, but that they 
 avoided speaking of it from discretion. He remained for 
 three hours, talking on various subjects, and continually al- 
 luding to what filled his soul, without noticing that he was 
 mortally tiring his friends, and that they were falling asleep. 
 
 At last, Sviazhsky, yawning, accompanied him to the ves- 
 tibule, very much surprised at his friend's behavior. Levin 
 reached his hotel between one and two o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, and was frightened at the thought of passing ten hours 
 alone, a prey to his impatience. The watchman who was on 
 duty in the corridor lighted his candles, and was about to 
 withdraw when Levin stopped him. This fellow was called 
 Yegor. Never before had he paid any attention to him ; but 
 he suddenly became aware that he was a good, intelligent 
 man, and, above all, kind-hearted. 
 
 " Tell me, Ygor, don't you find it hard to go without 
 your sleep?" 
 
 " What difference does it make? It is our calling. We 
 have an easier time in gentlemen's houses, but less profit." 
 
 He found out that Ye"gor was the father of a family of 
 four children, three boys, and a girl whom he hoped to marry 
 to a harness-maker's clerk. 
 
 At the announcement of this plan, Levin communicated 
 his ideas about love in marriage to Ye"gor, remarking that 
 people are always happy where there is love, because their 
 happiness is in themselves. Y4gor listened attentively, and 
 evidently understood Levin's meaning ; but he confirmed it
 
 410 ANNA KARlSNINA. 
 
 by an unexpected reflection, that when he, Ye"gor, had 
 served good masters, he had always been satisfied with 
 them, and that he was contented with his master now, al- 
 though he was a Frenchman. 
 
 '" What an excellent fellow ! " thought Levin. "JV/ and 
 did you love your wife, Yegor, when you married her? " 
 
 ' Why shouldn't I love her? " replied Yegor. And Levin 
 noticed how eager Yegor was to confide to him his inmost 
 thoughts. 
 
 ' My life, too, has been an extraordinary one," he began, 
 his eyes shining, overcome by Levin's enthusiasm as one is 
 overcome by the contagion of yawning. " From my child- 
 hood " But the bell rang: Yegor departed, and Levin 
 was left alone. 
 
 Although he had eaten scarcely any thing at dinner, 
 although he had refused to take any tea or supper at Sviazh- 
 sky's, still he couldn't eat; and although he hadn't slept 
 the preceding night, he didn't think of sleeping now. He 
 couldn't breathe in his room ; and, in spite of the cold, he 
 opened a window, and seated himself on a table in front of 
 it. Above the roofs covered with snow rose the carved cross 
 of a church, and higher still were the constellations of the 
 Charioteer and the bright Capella. While breathing the cold 
 air which filled his room, he looked now at the cross, now at 
 the stars, rising as in a dream among the figures and memo- 
 ries called up by his imagination. 
 
 Towards four o'clock in the morning footsteps were heard 
 in the corridor : he opened his door, and saw a gambler re- 
 turning from his club. It was a man named Miaskin, whom 
 Levin knew. He walked along, coughing, gloomy, and 
 scowling. "Poor, unfortunate fellow!" thought Levin, 
 whose eyes filled with tears of pity. He wanted to stop him, 
 to speak to him, and console him ; but, remembering that he 
 was undressed, he went back, and sat down to bathe himself 
 in the icy air, and to look at the strangely formed cross, so 
 full of meaning to him in the silence, and at the beautiful, 
 bright stars above it. 
 
 Towards seven o'clock the men polishing the floors began 
 to make a noise, the bells rang for early morning service, 
 and Levin began to feel that he was taking cold. He closed 
 the window, made his toilet, and went out.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 411 
 
 XV. 
 
 THE streets were still deserted when Levin reached the 
 Shcherbatskys' house : everybody was asleep, and the princi- 
 pal entrance was still closed. He went back to the hotel, and 
 asked for coffee. It was the day watchman who brought it 
 to him, and not Yegor. Levin wished to enter into conver- 
 sation with him ; but, unfortunately, somebody rang, and he 
 went out. He tried to take his coffee, but was unable to swal- 
 low the piece of kalatch [white-bread] that he put in his 
 mouth. Then he put on his overcoat again, and returned to 
 the Shcherbatskys' house. It was just ten o'clock, and they 
 were beginning to get up ; the cook was going to market. 
 He must make up his mind to wait at least two hours longer. 
 
 Levin had passed the whole night and the morning in a 
 complete state of indifference to the material conditions of 
 existence : he had neither eaten nor slept ; had been exposed, 
 with almost no clothing, to the cold for several hours ; and 
 he not only was fresh and heart}-, but he felt freed from all 
 the slavery of body, master of his powers, and capable of 
 the most extraordinary actions, such as flying through the air 
 or jumping over the top of a house. He roamed about the 
 streets to pass away the time, consulting his \vatch every 
 moment or two, and looking about him. What he saw that 
 day he never saw again. He was particularly struck by the 
 children on their way to school ; the pigeons, with ever-chan- 
 ging plumage, flying from the roof to the sidewalk ; the su'ikis 
 [little cakes] powdered with flour that an invisible hand was 
 arranging in a window. All these things seemed extraordi- 
 nary. A child ran towards one of the pigeons, and looked at 
 Levin, smiling ; the pigeon spread its wings, and shone in the 
 sunlight through a cloud of fine snow ; and the smell of hot 
 bread came through the window where the sa'ikis were dis- 
 played. All these, taken as a whole, produced so lively an 
 impression on Levin that he began to laugh aloud. After 
 going around by the Gazetnaia and Kislovka Streets, he went 
 back to the hotel, sat down, placed his watch before him, and 
 waited till the hands pointed to the hour of noon. When it 
 struck twelve he went on the steps of the hotel ; and the 
 izwshchiks, with happy faces, surrounded him, disputing as 
 to which should offer his services. Evidently they knew all 
 about it. He chose one, and, not to offend the others, prom-
 
 412 ANNA 
 
 ised to take them some other time ; then he drove to the 
 Shclierbatskys'. The izvoshcJuk was charming, with his white 
 shirt-collar above his kaftan surrounding his strong, red neck. 
 He had a comfortable sleigh, more comfortable than ordinary 
 sleighs, such a sleigh as Levin had never seen before, 
 drawn by a good horse, who did his best to run, without 
 making the least progress. The izvoshchik knew the Shcher- 
 batsky house : he stopped before the door, flourishing his 
 arms, and turned respectfully towards Levin, saying " Whoa " 
 to his horse. 
 
 The Shcherbatskys' servant knew all about it, surely : that 
 was plain from the look in his eyes, and the way he said, 
 
 " Nu! it is a long time since 3'ou have been here, Kon- 
 stantin Dmitritch," 
 
 Not only did he know what had happened, but he was full 
 of delight, and tried to conceal his joy. Levin felt a shade 
 happier when he caught the old man's good-natured eyes. 
 
 " Are they up? " 
 
 "Please come in. Leave that here," added the Swiss as 
 Levin was turning back to get his shapka [fur cap]. "That 
 must have some significance," he thought. 
 
 " To whom shall I announce you, sir? " asked a lackey. 
 
 This lackey, though young, new in the house, and with 
 some pretension to elegance, was very obliging, very atten- 
 tive ; and he, too, seemed to understand the situation. 
 
 "To the princess I mean the prince; no, the young 
 princess," replied Levin. 
 
 The first person whom he met was Mademoiselle Linon. 
 She was passing through the hall, radiant in her little curls 
 and her shining face. He had hardly spoken to her when the 
 rustling of a dress was heard near the door. Mademoiselle 
 Linon disappeared from before his eyes, and he was overcome 
 with the thought of the happiness awaiting him. Hardly had 
 the old governess hastened away, when little, light-tripping 
 feet ran over the floor, and his happiness, his life, the better 
 part of himself, that which he yearned for so long, drew 
 near. She did not walk : some invisible power seemed to 
 bring her towards him. He saw only her bright, truthful 
 eyes, filled with the same timid joy that filled his own heart. 
 These eyes, shining nearer and nearer to him, almost blinded 
 him with their light of love. She stood before him, almost 
 touching him ; then she placed her two hands gently on his 
 shoulders ; and then she gave herself to him, trembling and
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 413 
 
 happy. He folded her in his arms, and pressed his lips to 
 hers. 
 
 .She, too, after a sleepless night, had been waiting for him 
 all the morning. Her parents were perfectly agreed, and 
 happy in her happiness. She had been on the wateh for his 
 coming. She wanted to be the first to tell him of their happi- 
 ness. Shy and confused, she hardly knew how to carry out 
 her plan. She heard his steps and voice, and hid herself 
 behind the door to wait till Mademoiselle Linon had gone. 
 Then, without questioning further, she came to him. 
 
 " Now, let us find mamma," said she, taking his hand. 
 
 For a long time he could not utter a word, because not 
 only was he afraid of lessening the intensity of his joy by 
 words, but because his tears choked him. He took her by 
 the hand, and kissed her. 
 
 " Is it really true? " he said at last in a husky voice. " I 
 cannot believe that you love me." 
 
 She smiled at his tui and at the timidity with which he 
 looked at her. 
 
 "Yes," she replied, slowly lingering on this word. "I 
 am so happy ! ' ' 
 
 Without letting go his hand, she went with him into the 
 drawing-room. As soon as the princess saw them, she 
 almost went into hysterics ; then, running to Levin with a 
 sudden energy, she seized his head, and kissed him, bedew- 
 ing his face with her tears. 
 
 "So all is settled? I am delighted. Love her. I am 
 so glad for you Kitty ! " 
 
 " It didn't take you long to arrange matters," said the old 
 prince, trying to appear calm ; but Levin saw his eyes fill 
 with tears. 
 
 " It is something I have long been anxious for," said the 
 prince, drawing Levin towards him. "And when this little 
 goose thought " 
 
 " Papa ! " cried Kitty, putttog her hand over his mouth. 
 
 " Nu! Very well, very well, I won't say any thing," said 
 he. "I am very very hap Ach ! how stupid I am ! " 
 
 And he took Kitty in his arms, kissed her face, her hands, 
 and then her face again, blessing her with the sign of the 
 cross. 
 
 Levin felt a new and strange affection for the old prince 
 when he saw how tenderly and fervently Kitty kissed his 
 great, strong hand.
 
 414 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 THE princess was sitting in her easy-chair, silent and 
 beaming ; the prince was sitting beside her ; Kitty was stand- 
 ing near her father, holding his hand. Everybody was silent. 
 
 The princess was the first to bring their thoughts and feel- 
 ings back to the affairs of real life ; and the transition gave 
 each of them, for a moment, a strange and painful impression. 
 
 "When shall the wedding be? We must announce the 
 marriage, and have them betrothed. What do you think 
 about it, Aleksandr?" 
 
 " There is the person most interested : let him decide it," 
 said the prince, pointing to Levin. 
 
 "When?" replied the latter, blushing. "To-morrow, if 
 you wish my opinion ; to-day, the betrothal ; to-morrow, the 
 wedding." 
 
 " Nul Come, now, mon cher, no nonsense." 
 
 " Well, in a week, then." 
 
 " One would really suppose that you had lost your 
 senses." 
 
 "But why not?" 
 
 " And the trousseau? " said the mother, smiling gayly at 
 his impatience. 
 
 " Is it possible that a trousseau and all the rest are indis- 
 pensable?" thought Levin, with alarm. " After all, neither 
 the trousseau, nor the betrothal, nor any thing else, can spoil 
 my happiness! " He looked at Kitty, and noticed that the 
 idea of the trousseau did not offend her at all. " It must be 
 very necessary," he said to himself. " I admit that I know 
 nothing about it. I have merely expressed my desire," said 
 he, excusing himself. 
 
 " We will consider the matter : now we will have the be- 
 trothal, and announce the marriage." 
 
 The princess stepped up to 'her husband, kissed him, and 
 was about to move away again ; but he held her, and kissed 
 her again and again, like a young lover. The two old peo- 
 ple seemed agitated, and ready to believe that it was not 
 their daughter who was to be married, but themselves. 
 
 When they had gone out, Levin approached his fiancee, 
 and took her hand ; he had regained his self-possession, and 
 could speak ; he had many other things on his mind to tell 
 her, but he did not say at all what he intended to say.
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 415 
 
 ' ' I knew that it would be like this : at the bottom of my 
 heart I was sure of it, without ever daring to hope. I believe 
 that it was predestined." 
 
 "And I," replied Kitty, "even when," she hesitated, 
 then continued, looking at -him resolutely out of her sincere 
 eyes, " even when I rejected my happiness. I never loved 
 anybody but you : I was led away. I must ask you, can you 
 forget it?" 
 
 " Perhaps it was best that it should be so. You, too, will 
 have to pardon me, for I must confess to you." 
 
 This was one of the things that he had on his mind to 
 tell her. He had decided to confess every thing to her, from 
 his earliest life, first, that he was not as pure as she, and 
 then that he was not a believer. He thought it his duty to 
 make these confessions to her, however cruel they might be. 
 
 " No, not now ; later," he added. 
 
 " But tell me every thing. I am not afraid of any thing. 
 I want to know all, every thing " 
 
 " Every thing is," he interrupted, " that you take me just 
 as I am : you do not take back your word ! " 
 
 " No, oh, no ! " 
 
 Their conversation was interrupted by Mademoiselle Linon, 
 who, trying to look properly serious, came to congratulate 
 her favorite pupil : she had not left the drawing-room, before 
 the servants wished to offer their congratulations. The rela- 
 tives and friends came next ; and this was the beginning of 
 that absurdly happ}* period, from which Levin was not free 
 till the day after his marriage. 
 
 Although he always felt constrained and ill at ease, this 
 strain of mind did not prevent his happiness from increas- 
 ing ; he imagined that if the time preceding his marriage 
 passed exactly in accordance with the usual customs, his joy 
 would suffer ; but although he did exactly as everybody else 
 did in such cases, his happiness, inste.ad of diminishing, knew 
 no bounds. 
 
 " Now," said Mademoiselle Linon, " we shall have all the 
 bonbons we wish for ; " and Levin ran to buy bonbons, 
 
 "Nu. f very glad! I advise you to get your bouquets at 
 Famin's," said Sviazhsky. 
 
 " Do you? " said Levin ; and he went to Famin's. 
 
 His brother advised him to borrow money, because there 
 would be many expenses for presents and other necessities 
 of the hour.
 
 416 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 " For presents? Really? " and he started off on the run 
 to buy jewellery at Fulda's. 
 
 At the confectioner's, at Famin's, at Fulda's, everybody 
 seemed to expect him, and everybody seemed happy and 
 triumphant, like himself : strange as it may seem, his enthu- 
 siasm was shared by even those who before had seemed cold 
 and indifferent ; people approved of him in every way, they 
 treated his feelings with delicacy and gentleness, they shared 
 his conviction that he was the happiest man in the world, 
 because his fiancee was the pink of perfection : and Kitty was 
 impressed in the same way. 
 
 When the Countess Nordstone alluded to the more brilliant 
 hopes that she had conceived for her friend, Kitty became 
 angry, and declared so vehemently that it would have been 
 impossible for her to prefer anybody to Levin, that the 
 countess was convinced that she was right. From that time 
 she never met Kitty with her lover without smiling enthusi- 
 astically, though she did not approve of Levin. 
 
 A painful, a very painful, incident happened at this period. 
 It concerned the confession which he had promised. He had 
 consulted the old prince. Acting on his advice, Levin gave 
 Kitty a journal containing his confessions, written purposely 
 to show to the one whom he should marry. Of the two 
 delicate points with which it was concerned, the one which 
 passed almost unnoticed was his unbelief. She was a 
 Christian herself, and incapable of doubting her religion, but 
 her lover's lack of piety was a matter of indifference to 
 Kitty : this heart that love had made her acquainted with, 
 contained all that she needed to find there ; it was of little 
 importance to her that he termed the state of his soul incre- 
 dulity. But the second acknowledgment caused her to shed 
 bitter tears. 
 
 Levin had a great struggle with himself before he decided 
 to make this confession : he was resolved to make it because 
 he wished to have no secrets between them, but he did not 
 realize what an effect it would have on a young girl. The 
 abyss which separated his miserable past from her dovelike 
 purity became plain to him when, as he entered Kitty's 
 room one evening before going to the theatre, he saw her 
 lovely face bathed in tears : he understood then the irrepar- 
 able harm he had done, and he was filled with alarm. 
 
 "Take back these terrible papers!" she said, pushing 
 away the sheets lying on the table. " Why did you give
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 417 
 
 them to me? However, perhaps it was for the best," she 
 added, seized with pity at the sight of Levin's despairing 
 face. " But it is terrible, terrible ! " 
 
 He hung his head, unable to say a word in reply. 
 
 ''You will not forgive me ! " he murmured. 
 
 " Yes, I have forgiven you ; but it is terrible ! " 
 
 This incident, however, only served to add a shade more 
 to his immense joy. He understood the worth of it still 
 better after this pardon. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 WHEN he returned to his lonely room, Alekse"i Aleksan- 
 drovitch involuntarily recalled, little by little, the conversa- 
 tions that had taken place at the dinner and in the evening. 
 Dolly's words had only succeeded in arousing his vexation. 
 His situation was too difficult to allow him to apply the pre- 
 cepts of the New Testament : besides, he had already con- 
 sidered this question, and decided it in the negative. Of all 
 that had been said that day, the remark of that honest fool 
 Turovtsuin had made tne liveliest impression on his mind : 
 
 " He did bravely, for he challenged his rival, and killed 
 him." 
 
 Evidently this conduct was approved by all ; and if they 
 had not said so openly, it was out of pure politeness. 
 
 "But what good would it do to think about it? Had he 
 not resolved what to do?" And Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 
 gave no more thought to any thing except the preparations 
 for his departure, and his tour of inspection. 
 
 He took a cup of tea, opened a railway guide and looked 
 for the departure of trains, to arrange for his journey. 
 
 At this moment the servant brought him two despatches. 
 Aleksei Aleksaudrovitch opened them : the first announced 
 the nomination of Stremof to the place for which he had 
 been ambitious. Kare'nin threw down the telegram, and 
 began to walk up and down the room. " Quos vult perdere 
 Jujnter dementat," said he, applying quos to all those who 
 had taken part in this nomination. He was less disturbed 
 by the fact that he himself had not been nominated, than to 
 see Stremof, that babbler, that speechifier, filling the place. 
 Couldn't they understand that they were ruining themselves, 
 that they were destroying their prestige, by such a choice? 
 
 " Some more news of the same sort," he thought with
 
 418 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 bitterness as he opened the second telegram. It was from 
 his wife : her name, " Anna," in blue pencil, stood out before 
 his eyes. 
 
 " I am dying. I beg you to come : I shall die easier if I 
 have your forgiveness." 
 
 He read these words with scorn, and threw the paper on 
 the floor. "Some new scheme," was his first thought. 
 " There is no deceitfulness of which- she is not capable. She 
 must be on the eve of her confinement, and there is some- 
 thing amiss. But what can be her object? To compromise 
 me ? to prevent the divorce ? The despatch says, ' I am 
 dying.' ' He re-read the telegram, and suddenly realized 
 its full meaning. "If it were true, if the suffering, the 
 approach of death, had caused her to repent sincerely, and if 
 I should call this pretence, and refuse to go to her, that would 
 not only be cruel, but foolish, and all would blame me." 
 
 " Piotr, order a carriage : I am going to Petersburg ! " he 
 cried to the servant. 
 
 Karenin decided to go to his wife, and be ready to return 
 at once if her illness was a pretence : on the other hand, 
 if she were really repentant, and wanted to see him before 
 she died, he would forgive her ; and, if he reached her too 
 late, he could at least pay his last respects to her. 
 
 Having made up his mind to do this, he gave it no more 
 thought during the journey. Alekse'i Aleksandrovitch, tired 
 and dusty with his night of travelling, reached Petersburg in 
 the early morning. He crossed the still deserted Xevsky Per- 
 spective, looking straight before him through the morning 
 mist, without wishing to think of what was awaiting him 
 at home. He did not wish to think about it, because he 
 couldn't help feeling that his wife's death would put a 
 speedy end to all difficulties of his situation. The bakers, 
 the night izvoshchiks, the dvorniks sweeping the sidewalks, 
 the closed shops, all passed like a flash before his eyes ; 
 he noticed every thing, and tried to stifle the hope that he 
 reproached himself for entertaining. When he reached his 
 house he saw an izvoshchik, and a carnage with a coachman 
 asleep, standing before the door. On the steps Aleks^i 
 Aleksandrovitch made another effort to come to a decision, 
 wrested, it seemed to him, from the most hidden recess of 
 his brain, and which was something like this : "If she has 
 deceived me, I will be calm, and go away again ; but if she 
 has told the truth, I will do what is proper."
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 419 
 
 The Swiss opened the door even before Kar^nin rang the 
 bell ; the Swiss presented a strange appearance, without any 
 necktie, dressed in an old coat and slippers. 
 
 " How is the baruina? " 
 
 " She is as comfortable as could be expected." 
 
 Aleksi Aleksandrovitch turned very pale : he realized 
 how deeply he had hoped for her death. 
 
 Kornei, the servant in morning-dress, came quickly down 
 the stairs. 
 
 " Madame is very low," he said. " There was a consul- 
 tation yesterday, and the doctor is here now." 
 
 " Take my things," said Aleks^i Aleksandrovitch, a little 
 comforted to learn that all hope of death was not lost ; and 
 he went into the reception-room. 
 
 A uniform overcoat hung in the hall. Aleksi Aleksandro- 
 vitch noticed it, and asked, 
 
 "Who is here?" 
 
 " The doctor, the nurse, and Count Vronsky." 
 
 Kar6nin went into the drawing-room. There was nobody 
 there ; but the sound of his steps brought the nurse, in a cap 
 with lilac ribbons, out of the boudoir. She came to Aleksi 
 Aleksandrovitch, and, taking him by the hand with the 
 familiarity that the approach of death permits, led him into 
 the sleeping-room. 
 
 " Thank the Lord that you have come ! She talks of noth- 
 ing but you ; always of you," she said. 
 
 "Bring some ice quick!" said the imperative voice of 
 the doctor from the chamber. 
 
 In the boudoir, sitting on a little low chair, Aleksi Alek- 
 sandrovitch saw Vronsky weeping, his face covered with his 
 hands. He started at the sound of the doctor's voice, un- 
 covered his face, and found himself in the presence of Kar6- 
 niu. The sight of him disturbed him so much that he sank 
 down in his chair, as if he wanted to disappear out of sight ; 
 then, making a great effort, he rose, and said, 
 
 " She is dying : the doctors say that there is no hope. I 
 am in your power. Only allow me to remain here. I will 
 conform to your wishes in every other respect. I " 
 
 When he saw Vronsky in tears, Aleks6i Aleksandrovitch 
 felt the involuntary tenderness that the sufferings of others 
 always caused him : he turned away his head without reply- 
 ing, and went to the door. 
 
 Anna's voice could be heard from the sleeping-room, live-
 
 420 ANNA 
 
 ly, ga}', and articulating clearly. Aleksi Aleksandrovitch 
 went in, and approached her bed. Her face was turned to- 
 wards him. Her cheeks were bright, her eyes brilliant : her 
 little white hands, coining out of the sleeves of her night- 
 dress, were playing with the corner of the coverlet. Not 
 only did she seem fresh and well, but in the happiest frame 
 of mind : she talked fast and loud, accenting her words with 
 precision and nicety. 
 
 " For Aleksei. I am speaking of Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 
 strange, isn't it, and cruel, that both should be named 
 Aleksei ? Aleksei would not have refused me : I should 
 have forgotten. He would have forgiven Da! why does 
 he not come? He is good: he himself does not know how 
 good he is. Aclil Bozhe mo'i! what agony ! Give me some 
 water, quick ! Ach ! but that is not good for her, my 
 little daughter. Nu! then very well: give her to the nurse. 
 I am willing : that will be even better. Nu! when he comes, 
 she will be hateful in his sight; take her away." 
 
 " Anna Arkadyevna, he has come ; here he is," said the 
 nurse, trying to draw her attention to Aleksei Aleksaudro- 
 vitch. 
 
 "Acli! what nonsense!" continued Anna, without see- 
 ing her husband. "Da! give the little one to me. give 
 her to me ! He hasn't come yet. You pretend that he will 
 not forgive me, because you do not know him. Nobody 
 knows him. I alone His eyes, one must know them. 
 Serozha's are very like them : that is why I can no longer 
 look at them. Has Serozha had his dinner? I know he will be 
 forgotten. Oh, do not forget him ! Let Serozha be brought 
 into the corner-chamber, and let Mariette sleep near him." 
 
 Suddenly she was silent: she looked frightened, and raised 
 her arms above her head as if to ward off a blow. She had 
 recognized her husband. 
 
 " No, no," she said quickly, " I am not afraid of him : 
 I am afraid of dying. Aleksei, come here. I am in a 
 hurry, because there is no time to be lost. I have only a few 
 minutes to live : the fever will be upon me again, and I 
 shall know nothing more. Now I am conscious : I under- 
 stand every thing and I see every thing." 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 's wrinkled face expressed acute 
 suffering : he wanted to speak, but his lower lip trembled so 
 that he could not utter a word, and his emotion hardly 
 allowed him to glance at the dying woman. He took her
 
 ANNA KAKtiNINA. 421 
 
 hand, and held it between his own. Every time that he turned 
 his head towards her, he saw her eyes fixed on him with a 
 sweetness and a humility that he had never seen there before. 
 
 " Wait ! you do not know Wait, wait ! " She stopped 
 to collect her thoughts. "Yes," she began again, ".yes, 
 yes, yes, this is what I want to say. Do not be astonished. 
 I am always the same, but there is another being within 
 me, whom I fear: it is she who loved him, him, and hated 
 you ; and I could not forget what I had once been. Now I 
 am myself, entirely, really myself, and not another. I am 
 dying, I know that I am dying : ask him if I am not. I feel 
 it now ; there are those terrible weights on my hand and my 
 feet and on my fingers. My fingers ! they are enormous ; 
 but all that will soon be over. One thing only is indispen- 
 sable to me : forgive me, forgive me wholly ! I am a sinner ; 
 but Serozha's nurse told me that there was a holy martyr 
 what was her name? who was worse than I. I will go to 
 Rome : there is a desert there. I shall not trouble anybody 
 there. I will only take Serozha and my little daughter. 
 No, you cannot forgive me : I know very well that it is im- 
 possible. Go away, go away ! you are too perfect! " 
 
 She held him with one of her burning hands, and pushed 
 him away with the other. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch's emotion became so great that 
 he could no longer control himself. He suddenly felt his 
 emotions change to a moral reconciliation, which seemed like 
 a new and unknown happiness. He had not believed that 
 the Christian law, which he had taken for a guide in life, 
 ordered him to forgive and love his enemies ; and yet his soul 
 was filled with love and forgiveness. Kneeling beside the 
 bed, he laid his forehead on her arm, the fever of which 
 burned through the sleeve, and sobbed like a child. She 
 bent towards him, placed her arm around her husband's bald 
 head, and raised her eyes defiantly. 
 
 " There, I knew that it would be so. Now farewell, fare- 
 well to all ! They are coming back again. Why don't 
 they go away? Da! take off all these furs from me ! " 
 
 The doctor laid her back gently on her pillows, and drew 
 the covering over her arms. Anna made no resistance, 
 looking all the while straight before her, with shining eyes. 
 
 " Remember that I have only asked your pardon : I ask 
 nothing more. Why doesn't, he come?" she said, suddenly 
 looking towards the door, towards Vronsky. "Come! come 
 here, and give him your hand."
 
 422 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 Vronsky came to the side of the bed, and, when he saw 
 Anna, he hid his face in his hands. 
 
 " Uncover your face ; look at him, he is a saint," said she. 
 " Uncover your face ! look at him ! " she repeated in an irri- 
 tated manner. " Aleksel Aleksandrovitch, uncover his face : 
 I want to see him." 
 
 Aleksel Aleksandrovitch took Vronsky's hands and uncov- 
 ered his face, disfigured by suffering and humiliation. 
 
 " Give him your hand ; forgive him." 
 
 Aleksel Aleksandrovitch held out his hand to him, without 
 trying to keep back the tears. 
 
 " Thank the Lord ! thank the Lord!" said she; "now 
 every thing is right. I will stretch out my feet a little, like 
 that ; that is better. How ugly those flowers are ! they do not 
 look like violets," she said, pointing to the hangings in her 
 room. "Bozhe mo'i! Bozhe mo'i! when will this be over? 
 Give me some morphine, doctor; some morphine. Bozhe 
 mo'i! Bozhe moll " And she tossed about on the bed. 
 
 The doctors said that in this fever there was not one 
 chance in a hundred of her living. She passed the day de- 
 lirious and unconscious. Towards midnight her pulse 
 became very low : the end was expected every moment. 
 
 Vronsky went home, but he came back the next morning 
 to learn how she was. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch came to 
 meet him in the reception-room, and said to him, " Stay here : 
 perhaps she will ask for you." Then he took him to his wife's 
 boudoir himself. In the morning the restlessness, the rapid- 
 ity of thought and speech, returned ; but soon unconscious- 
 ness intervened again. The third day was much the same, 
 and the doctors began to hope. On this day Aleks6i Alek- 
 sandrovitch went into the boudoir where Vronsky was, closed 
 the door, and sat down in front of him. 
 
 " Aleksei Aleksandrovitch," said Vronsky, feeling that an 
 explanation was to be made, " I cannot speak, I cannot think. 
 Have pity on me ! Whatever may be your suffering, believe 
 that mine is still more terrible." 
 
 He was going to rise ; but Aleksei Aleksandrovitch pre- 
 vented him, and said, "Pray listen to me : it is unavoidable. 
 I am forced to explain to you the feelings that guide me, and 
 will continue to guide me, that you may avoid making any 
 mistake in regard to me. You know that I had decided on 
 a divorce, and that I had taken the preliminary steps to ob-
 
 ANNA K A It/: NINA. 423 
 
 tain one? " I will not deny that at first I was undecided, I 
 was in torment. I confess that I wanted to avenge myself. 
 When I received the telegram, and came home, I felt the same 
 desire. I will say more : I hoped that she would die. But ' ' 
 he was silent for a moment, considering whether he would 
 wholly reveal his thoughts " but I have seen her: I have 
 forgiven her absolutely. The happiness I feel at being able 
 to forgive, clearly shows me my duty. I offer the other 
 cheek to the smiter : I give my last cloak to him who has 
 robbed me. I only ask one thing of God, that he will not 
 take awa} r from me this joy of forgiving." 
 
 Tears filled his eyes. Vrousky was amazed at the calm, 
 luminous face. 
 
 ' These are my feelings. You may drag me in the dust, 
 and make me the laughing-stock of creation ; but I will not 
 give up Anna for that, nor will I utter a word of reproach 
 to you," continued Aleksei Aleksandrovitch. " My duty 
 seems clear and plain to me : I must remain with her ; I 
 shall remain with her. If she wishes to see you, I shall in- 
 form you of it ; but now I think it will be better for you to 
 go away." 
 
 Karenin rose : sobs choked his voice. Yronsky rose too, 
 and, standing with bowed head and humble attitude, looked 
 up at Karenin, without a word to say. He was incapable of 
 understanding Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 's feelings ; but he felt 
 that such magnanimity was above him, and irreconcilable with 
 his conception of life. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 WHEN Vronsky left the Karenin house after this interview, 
 he stopped on the steps to ask himself where he was and 
 what he had to do. Humiliated and perplexed, he felt de- 
 prived of all means of washing away his shame, thrown 
 out of the path where till now he had walked proudly and 
 easily. All the rules which had been the guides of his life, 
 and which he had believed irreproachable, proved false and 
 untrue. The deceived husband, that melancholy charac- 
 ter whom he had considered an accidental obstacle, at 
 times absurd, happily for him had suddenly been raised by 
 her to a height inspiring respect; and, instead of appearing 
 ridiculous, he had shown himself good, grand, and generous. 
 Vronsky could not understand it : their rdles had been inter-
 
 424 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 changed. He felt Karnin's grandeur and straightforward- 
 ness, and his own baseness. This deceived husband appeared 
 magnanimous in his grief, while he himself seemed little and 
 miserable. But this feeling of inferiority, in comparison to 
 a man whom he had unjustly scorned, was only a small part 
 of his grief. 
 
 What made him profoundly unhappy was the thought of 
 losing Anna forever. His passion, though for a time grown 
 cool, had awakened more violent than ever. During her ill- 
 ness he had learned to know her better, and he believed that 
 he had never really loved her till now. He must lose her 
 just as he had come to know her and love her truly, 
 lose her, and be left with the most humiliating recollections. 
 He recalled with horror the ridiculous and odious moment 
 when Alekse"i Aleksandrovitch had uncovered his face while 
 he was hiding it in his hands. Standing motionless on the 
 steps of the Karenin house, he seemed to be entirely uncon- 
 scious of what he was doing. 
 
 " Shall I call an izvoshchik?" asked the Swiss. 
 
 "Yes, an izvoshchik." 
 
 When he reached home, after three nights without sleep, 
 Vronsky, without undressing, threw himself down on a divan, 
 crossing his arms above his head. The strangest reminis- 
 cences, thoughts, and impressions succeeded each other in 
 his mind with extraordinary rapidity and clearness. Now it 
 was a drink that he wanted to give the invalid, and he dropped 
 the spoon ; now he saw the nurse's white hands, then Alek- 
 se"i Aleksandrovitch's singular attitude as he knelt on the 
 floor by the bed. 
 
 " Sleep, and forget," he said to himself, with the calm 
 resolution of a man in good health who knows that he can 
 sleep at will when he feels tired. His ideas became con- 
 fused : he felt himself falling into the abyss of forgetfulness. 
 Suddenly, just at the moment when he was becoming uncon- 
 scious, as though the waves of an ocean had closed above 
 his head, a violent electric shock seemed to make his body 
 bound on the springs of the divan ; and he found himself on 
 his knees, with his eyes as wide open as if he had never 
 dreamed of sleeping, and without any longer feeling in the 
 least weary. 
 
 " You may drag me in the dust." 
 
 These words of Aleksei Aleksandrovitch rang in his ears. 
 He saw him standing before him ; he saw, too, Anna's feverish
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 425 
 
 face, and her brilliant eyes looking tenderly, not at /urn, but 
 at her husband ; he saw his own absurd, ridiculous face 
 when Aleksei Aleksandrovitch drew away his hauds from his 
 face : and throwing himself back on the divan, and closing 
 his eyes, 
 
 " Sleep, and forget," he repeated to himself. 
 
 Then Anna's face, just as it looked on that memorable 
 evening of the races, appeared still more radiant, although 
 her eyes were closed. 
 
 " It's impossible, and will not be ; how can she efface that 
 from her memory ? I cannot live like this ! How can we be 
 reconciled? " 
 
 He unconsciously pronounced these words aloud, and their 
 mechanical repetition prevented the recollections and forms 
 which besieged his brain from returning for some minutes. 
 But the sweet moments of the past, and his recent humilia- 
 tion, soon resumed their sway. "Uncover his face," said 
 Anna's voice. He took away his hands, and realized how 
 humiliated and ridiculous he must have appeared. 
 
 Vronsky remained lying down, hopelessly trying to sleep, 
 and repeating some formula to drive away the new and dis- 
 tressing hallucinations which he thought he could prevent 
 from arising. He listened to his own voice repeating, with a 
 strange persistence, "You did not know how to appreciate 
 her, you did not know how to value her : you did not know 
 how to appreciate her, .you did not know how to value her." 
 
 "What is going to happen to me? Am I going mad?" 
 he asked himself. " Perhaps so. Why do people go mad? 
 and why do they commit suicide? " And, while he was an- 
 swering himself, he opened his eyes, surprised to see beside 
 him a cushion embroidered by his sister-in-law Varia. He 
 tried to fix the thought of Varia in his mind b}" playing with 
 the tassel of the cushion, but any idea foreign to what tor- 
 mented him was still more intolerable. " No, I must sleep." 
 And, placing the cushion under his head, he made an effort 
 to keep his eyes closed. Suddenly he was again seized with 
 a shock. "All is over with me ; what else can I do? " And 
 his imagination vividly pictured what life without Anna would 
 be. 
 
 "Ambition? Serpukhovskoi? the world? the court?" all 
 that once had some meaning, but it had none now. He rose, 
 took off his coat, loosened his necktie that he might breathe 
 more freely, and began to stride up and down the room.
 
 426 ANNA EARlZNINA. 
 
 " It is this that makes people insane," he repeated, "that 
 causes suicide, to avoid disgrace," he added slowly. 
 
 He went to the door and closed it ; then, with a look of 
 determination, and with his teeth set, he went to the table, 
 took his revolver, examined it, loaded it, and stopped to 
 consider. He stood motionless for two minutes, with the 
 revolver in his hand, his head bowed, his mind bent appar- 
 ently on a single thought. " Certainly," he said to himself, 
 and this decision seemed to be the logical result of a sequence 
 of clear and exact ideas ; but in reality he was continually 
 turning around in the same circle of impressions that he had 
 gone over for the hundredth time in the last hour. " Cer- 
 tainly," he repeated, his thoughts still bent on these recol- 
 lections of a lost happiness, of a future become impossible, 
 and of a crushing shame ; and, holding the revolver to the 
 left side of his breast, with an unflinching grip he pulled the 
 trigger. He did not hear the slightest sound of the report, 
 but the violent blow that he received in the chest knocked 
 him over. He tried to save himself by catching hold of the 
 table : he dropped his revolver, tottered, and fell on the floor, 
 looking about him with astonishment. He could hardly rec- 
 ognize his room : the twisted legs of the table, the waste- 
 paper basket, the tiger-skin on the floor, all seemed strange 
 to him. The quick steps of his servant running to the draw- 
 ing-room obliged him to get control of himself: he collected 
 his thoughts with an effort, and found that he was on the floor, 
 and that blood was on his hands and on the tiger-skin. Then 
 he realized what he had done. 
 
 "What stupidity! I have made a fool of myself," he 
 muttered, feeling round for his pistol. It was quite near 
 him, and he began to reload it, but in doing so he lost his 
 balance, and fell again, bathed in his own blood. 
 
 The valet de chambre, an elegant person with side-whiskers, 
 who complained freely to his friends about his delicate 
 nerves, was so frightened at the sight of his master, that he 
 let him lie, and ran for help. 
 
 In an hour Varia, Vronsky's sister-in-law, arrived, and 
 at the same time the three doctors whom she sent for in all 
 directions, and who all came at once ; and with this assistance 
 she succeeded in putting the wounded man to bed, and 
 established herself as his nurse.
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 427 
 
 XIX. 
 
 ALEKSKI ALEKSAXDROVTTCH had not foreseen what would 
 happen if his wife should recover after she had obtained his 
 pardon. This mistake appeared to him in all its seriousness 
 two months after his return from Moscow ; but if he had 
 made a mistake, it was not alone because he had not fore- 
 seen this eventuality, but also because he had not understood 
 his heart till then. Beside the bed of his dying wife, he had 
 given way, for the first time in his life, to that feeling of pity 
 for the griefs of others, against which he had always fought 
 as one fights against a dangerous weakness. Remorse at hav- 
 ing wished for Anna's death, the pity with which she inspired 
 him, but above all the joy of forgiving, had transformed 
 AlekseM Aleksandrovitch's moral anguish to a deep peace, 
 and changed a source of suffering to a source of joy. All 
 the difficulties that he had thought insoluble when he was 
 filled with hatred and anger, became clear and simple now 
 that he loved and forgave. 
 
 He had pardoned his wife, and he pitied her. He had 
 forgiven Vronsky, and since his despair he pitied him too. 
 He pitied his son more than before, because he felt that he 
 had neglected him. But what he felt for the new-born child 
 was more than pity, it was almost tenderness. Seeing this 
 poor little weak being neglected during its mother's illness, 
 he looked after it, prevented it from dying, and, before he 
 was aware of it, became attached to it. The nurses saw him 
 come several times a day into the nursery, and, a little intimi- 
 dated at first, they gradually became accustomed to his pres- 
 ence. He staid sometimes for half an hour, silently gazing 
 at the saffron-red, wrinkled, downy face of the sleeping child, 
 who was not his own, following her motions as she scowled, 
 and puckered her lips, watching her rub her eyes with the 
 back of her little hands, with their round fingers. And at 
 these moments Aleksei Aleksandrovitch felt calm and at 
 peace with himself, seeing nothing abnormal in his situa- 
 tion, nothing that he felt the need of changing. 
 
 However, as time went on, he felt more and more that he 
 would not be permitted to remain in this situation, which 
 seemed natural to him, and that nobody would allow it. 
 
 He felt, that, besides the holy and spiritual force which 
 guided his soul, there was another force, brutal, all-powerful,
 
 428 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 which directed his life in spite of himself, and gave him no 
 peace. He felt that everybody was looking at him, and 
 questioning his attitude, not understanding it, and expecting 
 him to do something. Especially he felt the unnaturalness 
 and constraint of his relations with his wife. 
 
 When the tenderness caused by the expectation of her 
 death had passed away, Aleks^i Aleksandrovitch began to 
 notice how Anna feared him, how she dreaded his presence, 
 and did not dare to look him in the face : she seemed to be 
 always pursued by a thought she dared not express, that 
 she, too, had a presentiment of the short duration of their 
 present relations, and that, without knowing why, she ex- 
 pected some move from her husband. 
 
 Towards the end of February, the little girl, who had been 
 named Anna for her mother, was taken ill. Alekse'i Alek- 
 saudrovitch had seen her one morning before going to the 
 ministry meeting, and went to call the physician : when he 
 returned at four o'clock, he noticed an Adonis of a lackey, in 
 stock and bear-skin, holding a circular lined with white fur. 
 
 " Who is here?" he asked. 
 
 "The Princess Yelizavyeta Fyodorovna Tverskaia," re- 
 plied the lackey. 
 
 All through this painful period Aleksi Aleksandrovitch 
 noticed that his society friends, especially the feminine por- 
 tion, showed a very marked interest in him and in his wife. 
 He noticed in them all that veiled look of amusement which 
 he saw in the lawyer's eyes, and which he now saw in those 
 of the lackey. When people met him, and inquired after his 
 health, they did so with this same half-concealed hilarity. 
 They all seemed delighted, as if they were going to a wedding. 
 
 The presence of the princess was not agreeable to Kar6nin ; 
 he had never liked her, and she called up unpleasant memo- 
 ries : so he went directly to the nursery. 
 
 In the first room, Serozha, leaning on a table, with his feet 
 in a chair, was drawing, and chattering merrily. The Eng- 
 lish governess, who had replaced the French woman soon 
 after Anna's illness, was sitting near the child, with her 
 crocheting in her hand : as soon as she saw Karnin come 
 in, she rose, made a courtesy, and put Serozha's feet down. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch caressed his son's head, answered 
 the governess's questions about his wife's health, and asked 
 what the doctor said about baby. 
 
 " The doctor said nothing was out of the way with it. He 
 ordered baths, sir."
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 429 
 
 "She is in pain, nevertheless," said Aleks6i Aleksan- 
 drovitch, hearing the child cry in the next room. 
 
 " I don't believe, sir, that the nurse is good," replied the 
 English woman decidedly. 
 
 " What makes you think so? " 
 
 " It was the same at the Countess Pahl's, sir. They dosed 
 the child with medicine, while it was merely suffering from 
 hunger, sir." 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch considered for a few moments, 
 and then went into the adjoining room. The child was cry- 
 ing as she lay in her nurse's arms, with her head thrown 
 back, refusing the breast, and without yielding to the blan- 
 dishments of the two women bending over her. 
 
 " Isn't she any better? " asked Aleksei Aleksandro.vitch. 
 
 "She is very worrisome," replied the old nurse in an 
 undertone. 
 
 " Miss Edwards thinks that the nurse hasn't enough 
 nourishment for her," said he. 
 
 " I think so too, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch." 
 
 " Why haven't you said so? " 
 
 " Whom should I say it to? Anna Arkadyevna is still 
 ill," replied the old nurse discontentedly. 
 
 The old nurse had been in the family a long time, and 
 these simple words struck Karuiu as an allusion to his 
 position. 
 
 The child cried harder and harder, losing its breath, and 
 becoming hoarse. The old nurse threw up her hands in 
 despair, took the little one from the 3'oung nurse, and rocked 
 her in order to pacify her. 
 
 "You must ask the doctor to examine the young nurse," 
 said Aleksel Aleksandrovitch. 
 
 The young nurse, a healthy looking woman of fine appear- 
 ance, sprucely dressed, who was afraid of losing her position, 
 smiled scornfully, and muttered to herself, as she fastened 
 her dress, at the idea of anybody's suspecting that she hadn't 
 enough nourishment. 
 
 " Poor little thing ! " said the old nurse. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch sat down in a chair, sad and 
 crestfallen, and followed the old nurse with his eyes as she 
 walked up and down with the child. As soon as she had 
 placed the baby in the cradle, and, having arranged the little 
 pillow, had moved away, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch rose, and 
 went up to her on tiptoe. For a moment he was silent, and
 
 430 ANNA KAEtiNlNA. 
 
 looked with melancholy face at the little thing. But sud- 
 denly a smile spread over its face, and, still on tiptoe, he left 
 the room. 
 
 He went into the dining-room, rang the bell, and sent 
 for the doctor again. He was displeased because his wife 
 seemed to take so little interest in this charming baby, and 
 he wished neither to go to her room, nor to meet the Princess 
 Betsy ; but his wife might wonder why he didn't come as 
 usual : he crushed his feelings, and went towards the door. 
 A thick carpet deadened the sound of his footsteps as he 
 approached, and he unintentionally overheard the following 
 conversation. 
 
 "If he were rtot going away, I should understand your 
 refusal, and his also. But your husband ought to be above 
 that," said Betsy. 
 
 " It is not for my husband's sake, but my own, that I 
 don't wish it. So say nothing more about it," replied 
 Anna's agitated voice. 
 
 " Da! However, you can't help wanting to say good-by 
 to the man who shot himself on your account " 
 
 "It is for that very reason that I do not wish to see him 
 again." 
 
 Kardnin, with an expression of fear and guilt, stopped, and 
 would have gone away without being heard ; but considering 
 that this would lack dignity, he went on his way coughing : 
 the voices were hushed, and he went into the room. 
 
 Anna, in a gray wrapper, with her dark hair cut short, 
 was sitting in a reclining-chair. All her animation disap- 
 peared, as usual, at the sight of her husband ; she bowed her 
 head, and glanced uneasily towards Betsy ; the latter, dressed 
 in the latest fashion, with a little hat perched on the top of her 
 head, like a cap over a lamp, in a dove-colored dress, trimmed 
 with bands cut bias on the waist on one side, and on the 
 skirt on the other, was sitting beside Anna. She sat up as 
 straight as possible, and welcomed Alekse"! Aleksandrovitch 
 with a bow and a sarcastic smile. 
 
 "Ah!" she began, affecting surprise, "I am delighted 
 to meet you at home. You never show yourself anywhere, 
 and I haven't seen you since Anna was taken ill. I learned 
 of your anxiety from others. Da! you are a wonderful 
 husband!" She gave him a friendly, flattering look, as 
 much as to say that she approved of Kareiiiu's behavior 
 towards his wife.
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 431 
 
 Alekse"! Aleksandrovitch bowed coldly, and, kissing his 
 wife's hand, inquired how she was. 
 
 " Better, I think," she replied, avoiding his look. 
 
 "However, you look feverish," he said, emphasizing the 
 last word. 
 
 " We have. talked too much," said Betsy. " It was selfish 
 on my part, and I am going now." 
 
 She rose ; but Anna, suddenly flushing, seized her quickly 
 by the arm. 
 
 " No, stay, I beg of you. I must tell you, no, you," 
 she turned towards her husband, while the color increased 
 on her neck and brow. "I cannot, nor do I wish to, hide 
 any thing from you." 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch bent his head, and cracked his 
 knuckles. 
 
 " Bets3* has told me that Count Vronsky wishes to come to 
 our house to say good-by before he goes to Tashkend." 
 
 She spoke rapidly, without looking at her husband, anxious 
 to get through with it. "I have said that I could not receive 
 him." 
 
 "You said, my dear, that it would depend on Alekse'i 
 Aleksandrovitch," corrected Betsy. 
 
 " Da! No, I cannot see him, and that should not lead " 
 she stopped suddenly to question her husband's face : he was 
 not looking at her. " In short, I do not wish " 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch approached, and wanted to take 
 her hand. 
 
 Anna's first impulse was to withdraw her hand from her 
 husband's ; but she controlled herself, and pressed it. 
 
 "I am very grateful to you for your confidence," he 
 began ; but, looking at the princess, he stopped speaking. 
 
 What he could easily and clearly decide when by himself, 
 became impossible in the presence of Betsy, who was the 
 incarnation of that brutal force, independent of his will, but 
 which obliged him in the eyes of the world to renounce the 
 ruling power of his life, his love and his generous feelings. 
 
 " Nu! proshclui'ite, my treasure," said Betsy, rising. She. 
 kissed Anna, and went out. Kare"nin accompanied her. 
 
 "Aleksei Aleksandrovitch," said Betsy, stopping in the 
 middle of the boudoir to press his hand again, in a significant 
 manner, " I know that you are an extraordinary, magnani- 
 mous man ; and I love her so much, and esteem you so 
 highly, that I am going to give you a bit of advice, however
 
 432 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 disinterested I may be in the matter. Let him come. Aleksei 
 Vronsky is the soul of honor, and he is going to Tashkend." 
 
 ' ' I am very grateful to you for your sympathy and y our 
 advice, princess ; but the question is, can my wife see any- 
 body, or not? It is for her to decide." 
 
 He spoke these words with dignity, raising his eyebrows 
 as usual ; but he felt at once, that, whatever his words had 
 been, dignity was inconsistent with the situation. The sar- 
 castic and wicked smile with which Betsy greeted his remark 
 proved it beyond a doubt. 
 
 XX. 
 
 AFTER taking leave of Betsy, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch re- 
 turned to his wife ; she was lying back in her reclining-chair ; 
 but hearing her husband return, she rose quickly, and looked 
 at him in a frightened way. He saw that she had been crying. 
 
 "I am very grateful to thee for thy confidence," said he 
 gently, repeating in Russian the reply that he had just made 
 in French before Betsy. When he spoke to her in Russian 
 he used the familiar tui, and this tui irritated Anna in spite 
 of herself. "I am very grateful for your decision; for I 
 agree with you, that, since Count Vronsky is going away, 
 there is no necessity of his coming here ; besides " 
 
 "Z>a/ but as I have decided it, why say any more about 
 it?" interrupted Anna, with an annoyance that she did not 
 know how to control. "No necessity," she thought, " for 
 a man who has wished to commit suicide, to say farewell to 
 the woman he loves, and who for her part cannot live with- 
 out him !" 
 
 She pressed her lips together, and looked down at her 
 husband's hands with their swollen veins, as he stood rub- 
 bing them together. 
 
 " Let us not say any more about that," she added, more 
 calmly. 
 
 " I have given you perfect freedom to decide this question, 
 and I am happy to see " Aleksei Aleksandrovitch began 
 again. 
 
 ' ; That my desires are in conformity with yours," finished 
 Anna quickly, exasperated to hear him speak so slowly, when 
 she knew beforehand what he was going to say. 
 
 " Yes," he affirmed ; " and the Princess Tverskaia shows 
 very poor taste to meddle in family affairs, she of all others."
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 433 
 
 ' % ' I don't believe any thing they say about her," said 
 Anna. " I only know that she loves me sincerely." 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch sighed, and was silent. Anna 
 played nervouslj with the tassels of her wrapper, and looked 
 at him now and then, with that feeling of physical repulsion 
 which she reproached herself for, without being able to 
 overcome. All that she wished for at this moment, was to 
 be rid of his presence. 
 
 " Ah ! I have just sent for the doctor," said Karenin. 
 
 "What for? I am well." 
 
 " For the baby, she cries so much : they think that the 
 nurse hasn't enough nourishment for her." 
 
 " Why didn't you let me nurse her, when I begged them 
 to let me try ? In spite of every thing [Aleksei Aleksan- 
 drovitch understood what she meant by in spite of every thing'] , 
 she is a baby, and they will kill her." She rang, and sent 
 for the little one. " I wanted to nurse her, and you wouldn't 
 let me, and now you blame me." 
 
 " I do not blame you for any thing " 
 
 " Yes, you do blame me ! Acli! Bozhe mot! why didn't I 
 die!" She began to sob. '"Forgive me: I am nervous and 
 unjust," she said, trying to control herself. " But go away." 
 
 "No, this state of things cannot go on," said Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch, as he left his wife's room. 
 
 Never before had he been so convinced of the impossibility 
 of prolonging such a situation before the world : never had 
 his wife's dislike of him, and the strength of that mysterious 
 force which had taken possession of his life, to rule it con- 
 trary to the needs of his soul, appeared to him with such 
 evidence. 
 
 The world and his wife exacted something from him that 
 he did not fully understand ; but it aroused within him feel- 
 ings of hatred, which disturbed his peace, and destroyed the 
 worth of his victory over himself. Anna, in his opinion, 
 ought to have nothing more to do with Vronsky ; but if every- 
 body considered this impossible, he was ready to tolerate 
 their meeting, on condition that the children should not be 
 disgraced, nor his own life disturbed. 
 
 This was wretched, less wretched, however, than to give 
 Anna o'ver to a shameful and hopeless position, and to de- 
 prive himself of all that he loved. But he felt his powerless- 
 ness in this struggle, and knew beforehand that he would 
 be prevented from doing what seemed to him wise and good,
 
 434 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 and that he would be obliged to do what was painful to him, 
 but necessary to be done. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 BETSY had not left the hall when Stepan Arkadyevitch ap- 
 peared on the threshold. He had come from Eliseef 's, where 
 they had just received fresh oysters. 
 
 " Ah, princess ! you here? AVhat a fortunate meeting ! I 
 have just come from your house." 
 
 " The meeting is but for a moment : I am going," replied 
 Betsy, smiling, as she buttoned her gloves. 
 
 " AVait just a moment, princess: allow me to kiss your 
 hand before you put on your glove. Nothing pleases me 
 so much, in returning to ancient ways, as the custom of kiss- 
 ing a lady's hand." 
 
 He took Betsy's hand. 
 
 " When shall we meet again? " 
 
 " You don't deserve to see me," replied Betsy, laughing. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I do ! for I have become a serious man. 1 not 
 only take care of my own affairs, but also other people's," 
 said he with importance. 
 
 " Ach! I am delighted to hear it," replied Betsy, knowing 
 that he referred to Anna. 
 
 Going back into the hall, they stood in a corner. 
 
 " He is killing her," she whispered with conviction : " im- 
 possible to " 
 
 "I am very glad that you think so," replied Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch, shaking his head with sympathetic commisera- 
 tion. " That is why I am in Petersburg." 
 
 " The whole town are talking about it," said she: "this 
 situation is intolerable. She is fading away before our very 
 eyes. He doesn't understand that she is one of those women 
 whose feelings cannot be treated lightly. One of two things, 
 either he ought to take her away, and act decidedly, or else 
 be divorced. But this is killing her." 
 
 "Yes, yes, exactly," sighed Oblonsky. "I have come 
 for that ; that is to say, not entirely for that. They have 
 just made me chamberlain ; nu ! had to thank them ; but the 
 main thing was to arrange this matter." 
 
 " Nu ! may the Lord help you ! " said Betsy. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch accompanied the princess to the 
 door, kissed her wrist just above her glove, where the pulse
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 435 
 
 beat, and after paying her an impudent compliment, at which 
 she laughed, rather than take offence, he left her to go to his 
 sister. Anna was in tears. 
 
 In spite of his lively humor, Stepan Arkadyevitch passed 
 very easily from the most exuberant gayety to the tone of 
 poetical tenderness which suited his sister's frame of mind. 
 He asked how she felt, and how she had passed the day. 
 
 " Wretchedly, very wretchedly ! Night and day, the future 
 and the past, all wretched," she replied. 
 
 " You see things under a cloud. You must have courage ; 
 look life in the face. It is hard, I know, but" 
 
 " I have heard that some women love those whom they 
 despise," began Anna suddenly ; " but I hate him for his gen- 
 erosity. I cannot live with him. Understand me, he has a 
 physical effect on me which drives me out of my mind. I 
 cannot live with him! What shall I do? I have been un- 
 happ}' before. I thought it impossible to be more so, but 
 this surpasses all that I could have imagined. Knowing how 
 good and perfect he is, and aware of my inferiority, can you 
 conceive of my hating him nevertheless ? There is absolutely 
 nothing left for me but to " she was going to add " die," 
 but her brother would not let her finish. 
 
 " You are ill and nervous, and you see every thing exag- 
 gerated. There is really nothing so very terrible." 
 
 And Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled at her evident despair 
 without seeming rude ; his smile was so full of kindness, and 
 an almost effeminate sweetness, that, instead of irritating, it 
 was calming and soothing ; his words acted like oil of sweet 
 almonds. Anna at once felt the effect. 
 
 " No, Stiva," said she, " I am lost, lost ! worse than lost. 
 And yet, I am not yet lost : I cannot still say that all is over, 
 alas ! I feel the contrary. I seem like a cord too tightly 
 stretched, which must of necessity break. But the end has 
 not yet come, and it will be terrible." 
 
 " No, no : the cord can be carefully loosened. There is no 
 difficulty without some way out of it." 
 
 " I have thought it over, and thought it over again, and I 
 only see one ' ' 
 
 He saw by her look of dismay that the one way that she 
 meant was death, and again he did not allow her to finish. 
 
 " No ; listen to me ; you cannot judge of your position so 
 well as I. Let me tell you frankly my opinion." He smiled 
 again cautiously, with his almond-oily smile. " I will begin
 
 436 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 at the beginning : you married a man twenty years older than 
 yourself, and you married without love, or, at least, with- 
 out knowing what love was. It was a mistake, as well 
 admit it." 
 
 "A terrible mistake ! " said Anna. 
 
 " But, I repeat it, it was an accomplished fact. Let us 
 say you then had the misfortune to fall in love not with 
 your husband : that was a misfortune, but that, too, was an 
 accomplished fact. Your husband knew it, and forgave 
 you." After each sentence he stopped, as if to give her 
 time to reply, but she said nothing. " Now, the question 
 is, can you continue to live with your husband? do you wish 
 it? does he wish it? " 
 
 " I know nothing about it, nothing." 
 
 " But you 3'ourself have just said that you could no longer 
 endure " 
 
 " No, I did not say so. I deny it. I know nothing. I 
 understand nothing." 
 
 "Da! but allow" 
 
 " You cannot understand it. I am precipitated, head first, 
 into an abyss, and I may not save myself. I cannot." 
 
 " You will see that we can prevent you from falling, and 
 from being crushed. I understand you. I feel that you are 
 not able to express your feelings, your desires." 
 
 " I desire nothing, nothing only to end all this." 
 
 "He sees this, and knows it. Do you suppose that he 
 doesn't suffer too? You suffer, he suffers; and what way 
 of escape is there from all this torture? A divorce would 
 settle every thing." 
 
 Stepan Arkad^-evitch had not reached this point without 
 difficulty ; and, having expressed his principal idea, he looked 
 at Anna to see what effect it would have. 
 
 She shook her head without replying, but her beautiful 
 face lighted up for a moment ; and he came to the conclu- 
 sion, that, if she did not express her wishes, it was because 
 the thought of their being realized was too enticing. 
 
 "I am extremely sorry for you! how happy I should be 
 to arrange it for you ! " said Stepan Arkadyevitch. " Don't 
 say a word ! If God will only permit me to express all that 
 I feel ! I am going to find Aleks6i Aleksandrovitch." 
 
 Anna looked at him out of her brilliant, thoughtful eyes, 
 and did not reply.
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 437 
 
 XXII. 
 
 STEFAN ARKADYEVITCH went into his brother-in-law's study, 
 with the solemn face which he tried to assume when he sat 
 in his official chair at a council-meeting. Kareuiu, with his 
 arms behind his back, was walking up and down the room, 
 considering the same thing that Stepan Arkadyevitch had 
 been discussing with his wife. 
 
 " Shall I disturb you? " asked Stepan Arkadyevitch, sud- 
 denly embarrassed when he saw Kareniu ; and to conceal 
 his embarrassment, he took a new cigar-case out of his 
 pocket, smelt of the leather, and took out a cigarette. 
 
 " No. Do you wish to see me? " asked Aleksei Aleksan- 
 drovitch with indifference. 
 
 " Yes 1 would like I must yes, I must have a talk 
 with you," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, surprised at his con- 
 fusion. 
 
 This feeling was so strange and unexpected to him, that 
 he did not recognize in it the voice of conscience, warning 
 him that what he hoped to do was evil. He recovered him- 
 self with an effort, and conquered the weakness which took 
 possession of him. 
 
 " I want you," he said, " to believe in my love for my 
 sister, and in my sincere sympathy and regard for you." 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch listened, and made no reply ; but 
 his face struck Stepan Arkadyevitch by its expression of 
 humility and pain. 
 
 " I intended, I came on purpose, to speak with you about 
 my sister, and the situation in which you and she are 
 placed." 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandroviteh smiled sadly, looked at his brother- 
 in-law, and without replying went to the table, took up a 
 half-written letter, and handed it to him. 
 
 " I can think of nothing else. This is what I began to 
 write, thinking that I could express myself better in a letter, 
 for my presence irritates her," said he, giving him the letter. 
 
 Stepan Arkad3'evitch took the paper, and looked with sur- 
 prise at his brother-in-law's dull eyes, which were fixed on 
 him ; then he read, 
 
 " I know that my presence is disagreeable to you : pain- 
 ful as it is for me to recognize it, I know that it is so, and it 
 cannot be otherwise. I do not reproach you. God knows,
 
 438 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 that, daring your illness, I resolved to forget the past, and to 
 begin a new life. I am not sorry, I never shall be sorry, for 
 what I did then. I desired only one thing, your salvation, 
 the salvation of your soul. I have not succeeded. Tell me 
 yourself, what will give you peace and happiness, and I will 
 submit to whatever you ma}- deem just and right." 
 
 Oblonsky gave the letter back to his brother-in-law ; and 
 in his perplexity, he simply stared at his brother-in-law, not 
 knowing what to say. This silence was so painful, that 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch's lips trembled convulsively, while he 
 did not take his eyes from Karenin's face. 
 
 " That is what I wanted to say to her," said Aleks6i 
 Aleksandrovitch. 
 
 " Yes, yes : I understand you," he at last stammered out, 
 as though tears choked his utterance. 
 
 " I should like to know what she wishes." 
 
 " I am afraid that she herself does not realize her own 
 situation. IShe is not a judge of the matter," said Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch, trying to recover himself. " She is crushed, 
 literally crushed by your generosity of soul : if she should 
 read your letter, she would be unable to say a word, and 
 could only bow her head still lower." 
 
 "Da! But what is to be done? How can it be settled? 
 How can I know what she wishes? " 
 
 " If you will allow me to express my opinion, I think it 
 is for you to state clearly what measure you believe necessary 
 to put an end to this situation at once." 
 
 " Consequently, you think it ought to be ended at once? " 
 interrupted Karenin. "But how?" he added, passing his 
 hand over his eyes in an unusual way. "I see no possible 
 way out of it ! " 
 
 " There is a way out of every difficulty, however serious it 
 may be," said Oblonsky, rising, and growing more animated. 
 " You once spoke of divorce if }-ou are convinced that you 
 can never- be happy together again ' ' 
 
 " Happiness may be understood in different ways. Let 
 us grant that I agree to every thing, what escape is there 
 from our situation? " 
 
 " If you wish for my advice," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, 
 with the same oily smile with which he had spoken to his 
 sister ; and this smile was so persuasive, that Kar6niu, giving 
 himself up to the weakness which overpowered him, was in- 
 clined to believe his brother-in-law. " She will never say what
 
 ANNA EARgyiXA. 439 
 
 her wishes are. But there is one thing possible, one thing 
 that she may hope for," continued Stepan Arkadyevitch ; 
 " and that is, to break the bonds which are only the cause 
 of cruel recollections. In my opinion, it is indispensable to 
 put your relations on an entirely new footing, and that can 
 only be done by mutually resuming your freedom." 
 
 "Divorce!" interrupted Aleksel Aleksandrovitch, with 
 disgust. 
 
 " Yes, divorce : I mean da! divorce," repeated Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch, blushing. " Taking every thing into consid- 
 eration, that is the most sensible course when two married 
 people find themselves in such a situation as yours. What 
 is to be done, when living together becomes unbearable? 
 And that may often happen " 
 
 Aleksi Aleksaudrovitch drew a deep sigh, and covered 
 his eyes. 
 
 "There is only one consideration, whether one of the 
 parties wishes to marry again. If not, it is very simple," 
 continued Stepan Arkadyevitch, becoming less constrained. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, with his face distorted by grief, 
 muttered a few unintelligible words, but made no reply. What 
 seemed so simple to Oblonsky, he had turned over a thousand 
 times in his mind, and, instead of finding it very easy, found 
 it utterly impossible. Now that the conditions for divorce 
 were known to him, his personal dignity, as well as his 
 respect for religion, prevented him from taking the neces- 
 sary steps to procure one. 
 
 And, besides, what would become of their son? To leave 
 him with his mother was impossible. The divorced mother 
 would have a new family, in which the child's position and 
 training would be wretched. Should he keep the child for 
 himself ? But he knew that would be an act of vengeance, 
 and vengeance he did not want. But, above all, what made 
 divorce impossible in his eyes, was the thought that, in con- 
 senting to it, he himself would contribute to Anna's destruc- 
 tion. Dolly's words, when he was in Moscow, remained 
 graven in his heart : " In getting a divorce, 3*011 think only of 
 yourself." These words, now that he had forgiven her, and 
 had become attached to the children, had a very significant 
 meaning to him. To consent to a divorce, to give Anna her 
 liberty, was to take away her last help in the way of salva- 
 tion, and to push her over the precipice. Once divorced, he 
 knew very well that she would be united to Vronsky by a
 
 440 ANNA 
 
 criminal and illegal bond ; for marriage, according to the 
 Church, can only be dissolved by death. 
 
 " And who knows, but, after a year or two, either he 
 might abandon her, or she might form a new liaison?" 
 thought Aleks^i Aleksandrovitch ; "and I, having allowed 
 a divorce, should be responsible for her fall." 
 
 He went over all this a hundred times, and was convinced 
 that divorce was not at all as simple as his brother-in-law 
 would make it out. 
 
 He did not admit a word of what Stepan Arkadyevitch 
 said ; he had a thousand arguments to refute such reasoning ; 
 and, notwithstanding this, he listened, feeling that his words 
 were the manifestation of that irresistible force which was 
 ruling him, and to which he would finally submit. 
 
 "The only question is, how, on what conditions, you will 
 consent to a divorce ; for she will never dare to ask any thing 
 of you, and will give herself up entirely to your generosity." 
 
 "My God! my God! why has this come upon me?" 
 thought Aleksei Aleksandrovitch ; and, as he remembered 
 the condition of divorce in which the husband assumed the 
 blame, he buried his face in his hands, as Vronsky had done. 
 
 "You are distressed; I understand it; but if } - ou will 
 consider" 
 
 " ' Whosoever smiteth thee on the right cheek, turn to him 
 the other also ; and if any man would take away thy coat, 
 let him have thy cloak also,' " thought Aleksei Aleksandro- 
 vitch. "Yes, yes !" he cried, almost shrieking. " I will 
 take all the shame upon myself : I will even give up my son. 
 But will it not be better to leave all that? However, do 
 as you please." 
 
 And turning away from his brother-in-law, that he might 
 not see his face, he sat down near the window. He was 
 humiliated ; he was mortified ; but nevertheless he felt a 
 sense of happiness and emotion in the consciousness of his 
 own humility. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch was touched. 
 
 " Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, be assured that she will appre- 
 ciate 3'our generosity. It is, without doubt, the will of 
 God," he added ; but he felt, as soon as the words were out 
 of his mouth, what a foolish remark it was. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch would have replied, but tears 
 prevented him. 
 
 " This trial comes by fate, and it must be accepted. I
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 441 
 
 accept it as an accomplished fact, and I will try to help you 
 and her," said Stepan Arkady evitch. 
 
 When Oblousky left his brother-in-law's study, he was sin- 
 cerely affected, which did not prevent him from being de- 
 lighted at having settled this matter ; for he was certain that 
 Alekse"i Alek^androvitch would not go back on his word. 
 His satisfaction suggested a conundrum which he could ask 
 his wife and intimate friends : 
 
 \Vhat is the difference between me and a field-marshal? 
 The field-marshal makes divorces, and nobody is the better 
 for it ; while I make divorces, and three people are better off. 
 Or, rather, what resemblance is there between me and a 
 field-marshal? Where but by and by I'll improve on it," 
 he said to himself. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 VROXSKY'S wound was dangerous, although it did not reach 
 the heart. He hung for several days between life and death. 
 When for the first time he was able to speak, Varia, his sister- 
 in-law, was alone with him in the room. 
 
 "Varia ! " said he, looking at her gravely, "I was wounded 
 accidentally, and please tell everybody so, otherwise it will 
 seem too ridiculous ! " 
 
 Varia bent towards him without replying, examining his 
 face with a happy smile. His eyes were bright, but no longer 
 feverish, but their expression was stern. 
 
 " Nu! Thank the Lord ! " she replied : " are you suffer- 
 ing? " 
 
 "A little on this side," said he, pointing to his chest. 
 
 " Let me change the dressing, then." 
 
 He watched her change it, and when she had finished, 
 
 " You know," said he, " that I am not delirious now. See, 
 I beg of you, that nobody says that I shot myself intention- 
 ally." 
 
 " Nobody says so. I hope, however, that after this you 
 will give up shooting yourself accidentally," she said with a 
 questioning smile. 
 
 " Probably I shall not, but it would have been better." 
 
 In spite of these words, as soon as he was out of danger, 
 Vronsky felt that he was free from a part of his misfortunes. 
 By his action he had washed away, as it were, his shame and 
 humiliation which had weighed on him before. Henceforth
 
 442 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 he could think calmly of Aleksei Aleksanclrovitch, recogniz- 
 ing his magnanimity without being crushed by it. Besides, he 
 was able to be himself again, to look people in the face, and 
 to resume his customary habits. AVhat he could not tear 
 from his heart, in spite of all his efforts, was the regret, bor- 
 dering on despair, at having lost Anna forever ;^ since he was 
 firmly resolved, now that he had redeemed his sin towards 
 Karenin, not to place himself between the repentant wife and 
 her husband. But he could not put out of his heart the regret 
 at the loss of her love, any more than he could blot out the 
 memory of happy moments spent with her, and not half 
 appreciated till now, and whose charm pursued him con- 
 tinually. 
 
 Serpukhovsko'i thought of sending him to Tashkend, and 
 Vronsky accepted the proposition without the least hesita- 
 tion. But the nearer the time for his leaving came, the more 
 cruel seemed the sacrifice to duty. 
 
 "To see her once more, and then bury myself and die," 
 he thought ; and while paying his farewell visit to Betsy, he 
 expressed this wish to her. 
 
 The latter set out at once as an ambassador to Anna, but 
 brought back her refusal. 
 
 u So much the better," thought Vronsky, on receiving her 
 reply : " this is a weakness which would have cost me my 
 strength." 
 
 The next morning Betsy herself went to Vronsky, an- 
 nouncing that she had heard, through Oblonsk}% that Alekse"! 
 Aleksandrovitch consented to a divorce, and that conse- 
 quently there was no longer any thing to hinder Vronsky 
 from seeing Anna. 
 
 Without giving another thought to his resolutions ; with- 
 out finding out when he could see her, nor where her husband 
 would be; forgetting even to escort Betsy home, Vronsky 
 ran to the Karenins'. He flew up the steps, rushed into the 
 house, almost ran across the hall, entered Anna's room, and, 
 without even considering whether there might not be some 
 one else in the room, he took her in his arms, covering her 
 hands, her face, and her neck with kisses. 
 
 Anna was prepared to see him again, and had made up 
 her mind what to say to him ; but she had no time to speak : 
 Vrousky's passion overpowered her. She wanted to calm 
 him, to calm herself, but it was impossible : her lips trem- 
 bled, and for a long time she was unable to speak a word.
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 443 
 
 "Yes, you have conquered me: I am 3 T ours ! " she suc- 
 ceeded in saying at last. 
 
 " So it had to be ! and so long as we five, it must be so : 
 I know it now." 
 
 " It is true," she replied, growing paler and paler as she 
 put her arms around Vronsky's neck. "However, there is 
 something terrible in this after what has happened." 
 
 "All that will be forgotten, forgotten: we shall be so 
 happy ! If there were any need of our love increasing, it 
 would increase, because there is something terrible about 
 it," said he, raising his head. 
 
 She could only reply with a look out of her loving eyes. 
 
 " I hardly know you with your short hair. You are love- 
 ly ! Just like a little boy ! But how pale you are ! " 
 
 "Yes: I am still very weak," she replied, smiling; and 
 her lips began to tremble again. 
 
 " We will go to Italy : you will grow strong there." 
 
 " Is it possible that we could be like husband and wife, 
 alone, by ourselves? " said she, looking him in the eye. 
 
 "I am only surprised at one thing, that it has not always 
 been so." 
 
 " Stiva says that lie will consent to every thing, but I will 
 not accept his generosity," said she, looking thoughtfully 
 above Vronsky's head. " I do not wish for a divorce. It 
 is all the same to me now. I only wonder what he will 
 decide with regard to Serozha." 
 
 Vronsky could not understand how, in these first moments 
 of their reconciliation, she could think of her son and of 
 divorce. How could it be all the same to her? 
 
 " Don't speak of that, don't think of it," said he, turn- 
 ing Anna's hand over and over in his, to draw her attention 
 to him ; but she did not look at him. 
 
 ' Acli! why didn't I die? it would have been so much 
 better!" said she; and tears flooded her face; she tried, 
 nevertheless, to smile, that she might not give him pain. 
 
 Once Vronsky would have thought it impossible to give up 
 the flattering and perilous mission of Tashkend, but now he 
 refused it without any hesitation : then, noticing that his re- 
 fusal was misinterpreted by the authorities, he gave in his 
 resignation. 
 
 A month later, Aleks^i Aleksandrovitch was left alone 
 with his son, and Anna went abroad with Vronsky, refusing 
 a divorce, and peremptorily taking leave of him.
 
 444 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 PART V. 
 I. 
 
 THE Princess Shcherbatska'ia thought it would not be 
 possible to have the wedding any time within the five weeks 
 before Lent, on account of the trousseau, which would not 
 be half done ; she acknowledged, however, that there was a 
 risk of having to defer it still longer on account of mourning, 
 if they waited till Easter, as an old aunt of the prince's was 
 very ill, and liable to die. So a medium course was taken, 
 by deciding to have the wedding before Lent, and to prepare 
 only a small part of the trousseau at once, leaving the larger 
 part till afterwards. The young couple intended to set out 
 for the country immediately after the ceremony, and would 
 not need the larger part of the things. The princess was 
 indignant to find Levin indifferent to all these questions : 
 still more than half beside himself, he continued to believe 
 his happiness and his own person the centre, the only aim, of 
 creation ; he did not trouble himself in the least about his 
 affairs, but left everything to his friends, feeling sure that 
 they would arrange everything for the best. His brother, 
 Serge" i Ivanovitch, Stepan Arkadyevitch, and the princess 
 ruled him absolutely ; he was satisfied to accept whatever 
 propositions they might make. 
 
 His brother borrowed the money that he needed ; the 
 princess advised him to leave Moscow after the wedding; 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch advised him to go abroad. He con- 
 sented to everything. k ' Make whatever plans you please," 
 he thought, "I am happy; and whatever you may decide 
 on, my joy will be neither greater nor less." But when he 
 told Kitty of Stepan Arkadyevitch's suggestion, he was sur- 
 prised to see that she did not approve of it, and that she 
 had very decided plans for the future. She knew that 
 Levin's heart was at home in his work, and although she 
 neither understood his affairs, nor tried to understand them, 
 still they seemed to her very important ; as their home would 
 be in the country, she did not wish to go abroad where they 
 were not going to live, but insisted on settling down in the 
 country where their home was to be. This very firm deter-
 
 ANNA KARENINA. 445 
 
 ruination surprised Levin ; but it seemed to him all right, 
 and he begged Stepau Arkadyevitch, who had excellent 
 taste, to go to Pokrovsky and take charge of the improve- 
 ments in his house. It seemed to him that that belonged to 
 his friend's province. 
 
 " By the way," said Stepan Arkadyevitch one day, after 
 his return from the country, where he had arranged every- 
 thing for the young couple's reception, " have you your 
 certificate of confession?" 
 
 "No; why?" 
 
 " You can't be married without it." 
 
 "Ay, ay, ay!" cried Levin; ''but it is nine years since 
 I have been to confession ! and I haven't even thought 
 of it ! " 
 
 ''That is good!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, laughing, 
 "and you look on me as a nihilist! But that can't be 
 allowed to go on ; you must go to communion." 
 
 " When ? there are only four days more ! " Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch arranged this matter as he had every other, 
 and Levin prepared for his devotions. An unbeliever him- 
 self, he nevertheless respected the faith of others, but he 
 found it very hard to attend and participate in all religious 
 ceremonies. In his tender and sentimental frame of mind, 
 the necessity of dissimulating was not only odious to him ; 
 it was well-nigh impossible. Now, he would be obliged 
 either to mock at sacred things, or to lie, at a time when his 
 heart was bursting, when he felt at the height of bliss. He 
 felt that he could do neither. But in spite of all his efforts 
 to persuade Stepan Arkadyevitch that there must be some 
 other way of obtaining a certificate without being forced 
 to confess, Stepan Arkadyevitch declared that it was im- 
 possible. 
 
 "Da! What harm will it do you? only two days! and 
 the priest is a capital, bright little old man. He will pull 
 this tooth without your knowing it." 
 
 During the first mass that he attended Levin did his best 
 to recall the strong religious impressions of his youth, when 
 he was between sixteen and seventeen years old ; but he 
 found it impossible. He then tried to look upon religious 
 forms as an ancient custom, without any real meaning, 
 something like the habit of making calls ; this also he felt 
 that he could never do. Like most of his contemporaries, 
 Levin was completely undecided in regard to his religious
 
 446 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 views. He could not believe ; lie was also equally unable 
 absolutely to disbelieve. This confusion of feelings caused 
 him extreme pain and annoyance during the time allotted to 
 his devotions ; his conscience cried out that to act \vithout 
 understanding was an evil and deceitful action. 
 
 Not to be in too open contradiction with his convictions, 
 he tried at first to attribute some meaning to the divine 
 service with its different rites ; but, finding that he was 
 criticizing instead of understanding, he tried not to listen, 
 but to lose himself in his inmost thoughts, which encroached 
 upon him during the solemn night office in the church. 
 Mass, vespers, and evening prayers passed in this way ; the 
 next morning he rose early, and came at eight o'clock, with- 
 out having eaten anything, to morning prayers and confes- 
 sion. The church was deserted ; he saw nobody except a 
 mendicant soldier, two old women, and the officiating priests. 
 A young deacon came to meet him ; his long, thin back was 
 clearly defined in two halves beneath his short cassock ; he 
 approached a little table near the wall, and began to read 
 prayers. Levin, hearing him repeat in a hurried, monoto- 
 nous voice, clipping his words, the refrain, " Lord, have 
 mercy upon us," remained standing behind him, trying to 
 keep from listening and criticizing, so that his own thoughts 
 might not be disturbed. 
 
 ki What a charm there is about her hands," he thought, 
 recalling the evening before, which he had spent with Kitty 
 at the table in one corner of the drawing-room. There had 
 been nothing exciting about their conversation ; she had 
 amused herself by opening and shutting her hand as it rested 
 on the table, all the while laughing at her childishness. He 
 remembered how he had kissed this hand, and examined its 
 lines. " Still have mercy upon us," thought Levin, making 
 the sign of the cross, and bowing, while he noticed the 
 deacon's supple movements, as he prostrated himself in front 
 of him. " Then she took my hand, and in turn examined it. 
 ' You have a famous hand,' she said to me." He looked at 
 his own hand, and then at the deacon's, with its stubbed 
 fingers. " Da! Now it will soon be over. No; he is 
 beginning another prayer. Yes ; he is bowing to the ground ; 
 that is the end." 
 
 The deacon took the three-ruble note, discreetly slipped 
 into his hand, and moved quickly away, making his new 
 boots echo over the flag-stones of the empty church ; he dis-
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 447 
 
 appeared behind the altar, after promising Levin to register 
 his name for confession. In a moment he reappeared and 
 beckoned to him. Levin went towards the ambo. He 
 mounted several steps, turned to the right, and saw the priest, 
 a little old man, whose beard was almost white, with kindly 
 but rather weary eyes, standing near the reading-desk, turn- 
 ing over the leaves of a missal. After a slight bow to Levin, 
 he began to read the prayers ; then he kneeled down as he 
 finished, 
 
 "May the invisible Christ be present at your confession," 
 said^he, turning towards Levin and holding up the crucifix. 
 " Do 3*ou believe all that the Holy Apostolic Church teaches 
 us?", he continued, crossing his hands under his stole. 
 
 " I have doubted, I still doubt everything," said Levin, 
 in a voice which sounded disagreeable to his own ears, and 
 he was silent. 
 
 The priest waited a few moments, then closing his eyes 
 and speaking very rapidly, 
 
 " To doubt is characteristic of human weakness ; we must 
 pray the Lord Almighty to strengthen you. What are your 
 principal sins?" 
 
 The priest spoke without the least interruption, and as 
 though he were afraid of losing time. 
 
 " My principal sin is doubt, which I cannot get rid of; I 
 am nearly always in doubt, and I doubt everything." 
 
 " To doubt is characteristic of human weakness," repeated 
 the priest, using the same words; "what do you doubt 
 principally?" 
 
 " Everything. I sometimes even doubt the existence of 
 God," said Levin, in spite of himself almost frightened at 
 the impropriety of these words. But they did not seem to 
 produce on the priest the effect that he feared. 
 
 "How can you doubt the existence of God?" he asked, 
 with an almost imperceptible smile. 
 
 Levin was silent. 
 
 " What doubts can you have about the Creator when you 
 contemplate his works? Who ornamented the celestial 
 vault with its stars, decked the earth with all its beauty? 
 How can these things exist without a Creator?" And he 
 cast a questioning glance at Levin. 
 
 Levin felt the impossibility of a philosophical discussion 
 with a priest, and replied to his last question, 
 
 " I do not know."
 
 448 ANNA KARENINA. 
 
 "You do not know? But then why do you doubt that 
 God lius created everything?" 
 
 "I cannot understand it," replied Levin, blushing, and 
 feeling the absurdity of replies, which in the present case 
 could not be anything else than mere words. 
 
 " Pray to God, have recourse to him ; the Fathers of the 
 Church themselves doubted, and asked God to strengthen 
 their faith. The devil is mighty, and we should resist him. 
 Pray to God, pray to God," repeated the priest rapidly. 
 
 Then he kept silent for a moment, as though he were 
 buried in thought. 
 
 " They tell me that you intend to marry the daughter of 
 my parishioner and spiritual son, the Prince Shcherbataky," 
 he added with a smile. " She is an accomplished young 
 girl." 
 
 "Yes," replied Levin, blushing for the priest. "Why 
 does he need to ask such questions at confession ? " he said to 
 himself. 
 
 The priest continued : 
 
 " You are thinking of marriage, and perhaps God may 
 grant you offspring. What education will you give to 3'our 
 little children if you do not succeed in conquering the temp- 
 tations of the devil, who causes you to doubt? If you love 
 your children, you will not only wish for them riches, abun- 
 dance, and honor, but still more, as a good father, the salva- 
 tion of their souls and the light of truth; is this not so? 
 How will you reply to the innocent child who asks you, 
 ' Papasha, who made all that delights me on the earth, the 
 water, the sunshine, the flowers, the plants?' Will you 
 answer, ' I know nothing about it ' ? Can you ignore what 
 the Lord God in his infinite goodness has revealed to you ? 
 And if the child asks you, ' What awaits me beyond the 
 tomb?' what will you say to him if you know nothing? How 
 will you answer him? Will you give him up to the tempta- 
 tions of the world and the devil ? That is not right ! " said 
 he, stopping ; and turning his head on one side, looked at 
 Levin out of his kindly, gentle eyes. 
 
 Levin was silent, not because he was afraid this time of 
 an unbecoming discussion, but because nobody had ever put 
 such questions to him before, and because he thought there 
 was plenty of time to consider them before his children 
 should be in a state to question him. 
 
 " You are about to enter upon a phase of life," continued
 
 ANNA KAR&NWA. 449 
 
 the priest, " where one must choose his path and keep to it. 
 Pray God in his mercy to keep and sustain you ; and in con- 
 clusion : May our Lord God, Jesus Christ, pardon you, my 
 sou, in his goodness and loving kindness to all mankind." 
 And the priest, ending the formulas of absolution, took 
 leave of him, after giving him his blessing. 
 
 Levin began the day full of happiness at the thought of 
 being free from a false situation without having been obliged 
 to lie. Besides, he carried away from this good old monk's 
 little sermon a vague impression that, instead of listening to 
 absurdities, he had heard things worth the trouble of inves- 
 tigation. 
 
 Not now, of course," he thought, " but later on." Levin 
 felt keenly at this time that there were troubled and obscure 
 places in his soul ; concerning his religion, he was exactly 
 where Sviazhsky and others were, whose incoherent opinions 
 struck him disagreeably. 
 
 That evening which Levin spent with his fiancee at Dolly's 
 was very gay ; while talking with Stepan Arkadyevitch, he 
 said that he was like a dog being trained to jump through 
 a hoop, which, delighted at having finally learned his lesson, 
 wags his tail, and is eager to leap over the table and through 
 the window. 
 
 II. 
 
 THE princess and Dolly strictly observed the established 
 customs ; so Levin was not allowed to see his fiancee on the 
 day of the wedding ; he dined at his hotel with three bache- 
 lors, who met in his room by chance : they were Katavasof, 
 an old university friend, now professor of natural sciences, 
 whom Levin had met on the street, and brought home to 
 dinner; Tchirikof, his best man, justice of the peace at 
 Moscow, a bear-hunting companion ; and finally, Sergei Ivan- 
 ovitch. 
 
 The dinner was very lively. Sergei Ivanovitch was in 
 excellent spirits, and Katavasof's originality amused him 
 very much ; the latter, feeling that he was appreciated, tried 
 to show off, and Tchirikof added his share of gayety to the 
 conversation. 
 
 " So, here is our friend Konstantin Dmitrie'vitch," said 
 Katavasof, with the slow speech of a professor accus- 
 tomed to be listened to. " What a talented fellow he was !
 
 450 AXXA KARENINA. ' 
 
 I speak of him in the past, for he no longer exists. He 
 loved science when he lelt the university ; he took an interest 
 in humanity ; now he employs half his faculties in deceiving 
 himself, and the other half in trying to give an appearance 
 of reason to his illusions." 
 
 ' ' I never met a more confirmed enemy of marriage than 
 you," said Sergei Ivanovitch. 
 
 'Not at all; I am a friend of the distribution of labor. 
 People who do nothing cannot, ought not, to be the ones 
 to propagate the race. Others should devote themselves 
 to their intellectual development and welfare. That is my 
 opinion. I know a great many people are inclined to con- 
 found these two branches of work; but I am not of the 
 number." 
 
 "How delighted I should be to hear that you were in 
 love!" exclaimed Levin. "Pray invite me to your wed- 
 ding." 
 
 'But I am already in love." 
 
 " Yes ; with your mollusks. You know," said Levin, 
 " Mikhail Smenuitch has written a work on the nutrition, 
 and" 
 
 " Nu! I beg of you not to confuse matters ! It is of no 
 consequence what I have written ; but it is a fact that I love 
 inollusks." 
 
 " That need not prevent your loving a wife." 
 
 ' ' No ; but my wife would object to my loving the mol- 
 lusks." 
 
 'Why so?" 
 
 "You will see how it will be. Now, you love hunting, 
 agronomy Nu! just wait awhile ! " 
 
 "I met Arkhip to-day," said Tchirikof; "he says that 
 there are quantities of elk at Prudnof, and two bears." 
 
 " Nu ! You may hunt them without me." 
 
 " You see how it is," said Sergei Ivanovitch. " Da! you 
 may as well say good-bye to bear-hunting : your wife won't 
 allow it." 
 
 Levin smiled. The idea that his wife would object to his 
 hunting seemed so delightful that he was ready to renounce 
 the pleasure of ever meeting a bear again. 
 
 " The custom of saying good-bye to one's bachelor life is 
 not without meaning." said Sergei Ivanovitch. " However 
 happy one may be, he is always sorry to give up his lib- 
 erty."
 
 ANNA KARtiNIXA. 451 
 
 " Confess that, like Gogolevsky, when he was engaged, you. 
 feel like jumping out the window." 
 
 Certainly ; but he won't confess it," said Katavasof, 
 with a loud laugh. 
 
 " The window is open Let us go to Tver ! We might 
 find one bear in her den. Indeed, we have still time to 
 catch the five o'clock train," said Tchirikof, smiling. "Hear 
 them laugh ! " 
 
 ' Well, upon my honor," replied Levin, smiling, too, "I 
 cannot discover the least trace of regret in my soul for my 
 lost liberty." 
 
 " Da! Your soul is in such a chaos that you cannot find 
 anything in it," said Katavasof. " Wait till it becomes 
 calmer; then you will see. You are a hopeless case. NIL! 
 Let us drink to his recovery." 
 
 After dinner, the guests separated, to dress for the wed- 
 ding. 
 
 When alone, Levin again asked himself whether he really 
 regretted the liberty of which his friends had just been tank- 
 ing, and he smiled at the idea. 
 
 "Liberty? What of liberty? Happiness for me consists 
 in loving, in thinking her thoughts, in wishing her wishes, 
 without any liberty. That is happiness ! " 
 
 " But can I know her thoughts, her wishes, her feelings?" 
 said something like a voice. The smile disappeared from 
 his face. He fell into a deep study, and was suddenly seized 
 with fear and doubt. "And if she does not love me? If 
 she is marrying me merely for the sake of being married? 
 If she does not herself know what she is doing? Will she, 
 perhaps, see her mistake, and discover, after we are mar- 
 ried, that she does not love me, and that she never can love 
 me?" And a strange, even painful, thought about Kitty 
 came to his mind ; he began to be violently jealous of 
 Vrousky, just as he had been the year before ; there came 
 up before him, like the memory of yesterday, that evening 
 when he had seen them together, and he suspected her of 
 not having confessed everything to him. 
 
 "No," thought he, with despair, jumping up from his 
 chair, " I cannot let this remain so ! I will go and find her, 
 I will talk with her, and say to her again, for the last 
 time : ' We are free ; is it not better to stop just where we 
 :uv? Anything is better than life-long unhnppiness, shame, 
 distrust ! ' ' And with despair in his heart, full of hatred to-
 
 452 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 wards all mankind, towards himself and Kitty, he hastened 
 to her house. 
 
 He found her sitting on a large chest, busy with her maid, 
 looking over dresses of all colors, spread out on the floor, 
 and over the backs of the chairs. 
 
 " Ach!" she exclaimed, beaming with joy at seeing him. 
 "Is it tui? is it vui? [Till this last day she had sometimes 
 said tui, sometimes vi.] 1 did not expect this ! I am just 
 disposing of my maiden wardrobe." 
 
 " Ah ! that is good ! " he replied, frowning at the maid. 
 
 "Run away, Duniasha ; I will call you," said Kitty; and 
 as soon as she had gone she asked, " What is the matter?" 
 She was surprised at her lover's strange, confused, and 
 angry face, and was seized with fear. 
 
 "Kitty, I am in torture, and I cannot suffer alone!" he 
 said to her in despair, stopping in front of her in a beseech- 
 ing way, to read her eyes. Her beautiful, limpid eyes, full 
 of love and frankness, showed him at once how idle his 
 fears were, but he felt an urgent need of being reassured. 
 
 " I came to tell you that it is not yet too late ; that every- 
 thing can even now be taken back." 
 
 " What? I do not understand. What is the matter with 
 thee?" 
 
 "lam as I have said and thought a thousand times 
 before I am not worthy of you. You once could not con- 
 sent to marry me. Think of it ! Perhaps you are mistaken 
 now. Think of it well. You cannot love me if it is 
 better to acknowledge it " he continued, without looking 
 at her. "I shall be miserable, but no matter; let people 
 say what they please ; anything is better than unhappiness ! 
 Now, while there is yet time" 
 
 " I do not understand you," she replied, looking frightened 
 at him. "You mean you want to take back your word 
 break off our ? " 
 
 " Yes, if you do not love me." 
 
 " You must be insane ! " she exclaimed, red with vexa- 
 tion. But the sight of Levin's piteous face arrested her 
 anger; and pushing aside the dresses, which covered the 
 chairs, she drew near to him. 
 
 " What are you thinking of? tell me all." 
 
 " I think that you cannot love me. Why should you love 
 me?" 
 
 ' ' Bozhe mo'i ! what can I do ? " said she ; and she burst 
 into tears.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 453 
 
 " Ack ! what have I done ? " he cried instantly, and throw- 
 ing himself on his knees, he covered her hands with kisses. 
 
 When the princess came into the room five minutes later, 
 she found them completely reconciled. Kitty had not only 
 convinced her fianct of her love, but she had explained to 
 him why she loved him. She said that she loved him because 
 she understood him perfectly ; because she knew' that he 
 could love, and that all he loved was good and beautiful. 
 
 Levin found the explanation perfectly satisfactory. When 
 the princess came in, they were sitting side by side on the 
 big chest, looking over the dresses, and discussing their fate. 
 Kitty wanted to give Duniasha the brown dress that she wore 
 the day Levin proposed to her ; and he insisted that it should 
 not be given to anybody, and that Duniasha should have the 
 blue dress. 
 
 " But don't you see that she is a brunette, and the blue 
 dress will not be becoming to her? I have thought it all 
 over " 
 
 When she learned why Levin was there, the princess was 
 half vexed nt him, and sent him home to make his own toilet, 
 as Charles was going to dress Kitty's hair. 
 
 " She is quite excited enough," said she ; " she has eaten 
 nothing for days, and is loosing all her beauty ; and here 
 you come to trouble her with your foolishness. Come, go 
 away now, my dear ! " 
 
 Levin went back to the hotel, guilty and ashamed, but 
 reassured. His brother, Darya Aleksandrovna, and Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch, in full dress, were already waiting with holy 
 images to bless him. There was no time to be lost. Darya 
 Aleksandrovna had to go home again to get her son per- 
 fumed and curled for the occasion ; the child was to carry 
 the sacred image before the bride. Then one carriage must 
 be sent for the shafer (best man), while another was to come 
 to the hotel for Sergei Ivanovitch. This day was full of 
 complications. He must make haste, for it was already half- 
 past six. 
 
 The ceremony of the benediction was anything but solemn. 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch assumed a comically grave attitude 
 beside his wife, raised the sacred image, and obliged Levin 
 to kneel before it, while he blessed him with an affectionate 
 and wicked smile ; at last he kissed him three times ; and 
 Darya Aleksandrovna did the same very hastily, for she was 
 in a great hurry to get awaj', and in great perplexity about 
 the carriage arrangements.
 
 454 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 "Nu! This is what we will do: you go for him in our 
 carriage, and perhaps Sergei Ivanovitch will be so good as 
 to come immediately, and send back his " 
 
 " Certainly, with pleasure." 
 
 "We will come back together. Has the luggage been 
 sent?" asked Stepan Arkadyevitch. 
 
 " Yes," replied Levin, and he called Kuzma to help him 
 dress. 
 
 III. 
 
 THE church, brilliantly lighted, was crowded with people, 
 principally women ; those who could not get inside were 
 pushing up around the windows, and elbowing each other as 
 they strove for the best places. 
 
 More than twenty carriages stood in a line in the street, 
 under the supervision of policemen. A police officer in 
 brilliant uniform, unmindful of the cold, stood under the 
 peristyle, where one after another the carriages left some- 
 times ladies in full dress, holding up their trains, now men 
 taking off their hats as they entered the church. The lustres 
 and candles burning before the images shed a flood of light 
 on the golden ikonostds with its red background, on the 
 gilded chacing of the ikons, the great silver candelabra, the 
 censers, the choir banners, the steps of the pulpit, the old 
 dingy missals, and the priestly robes. In the elegant crowd 
 on the right-hand side of the church people dressed in uni- 
 forms, white neckties, and satin, silk, and velvet robes, with 
 flowers and gloves, were holding lively conversations in an 
 undertone, and the murmur of their voices echoed strangely 
 beneath the high, vaulted roof. Whenever the door opened 
 with a plaintive creak, the murmur ceased, and everybody 
 turned around, hoping at last to see the bridal pair. But 
 the door had already opened more than ten times, and 
 each time it proved to be some late comer who was to join 
 the group of invited guests, or some spectator who had been 
 clever enough to deceive or elude the police officer. The 
 friends and strangers had passed through every phase of 
 waiting ; at first they did not attach any importance to the 
 delay ; then they began to turn around more frequently, 
 wondering what could have happened ; at last the relatives 
 and invited guests assumed an air of indifference, as though 
 they were absorbed in their conversation, to conceal their 
 uneasiness.
 
 ANNA KARENINA. 455 
 
 The archdeacon, as though regretful of his time, every 
 now and then gave an impatient cough, which made the win- 
 dows rattle ; the singers, tired of waiting, were trying their 
 voices in the choir ; the priest sent now a sacristan, now a 
 deacon, to find out when the bridal party should arrive, and 
 appeared himself at one of the side-doors in a lilac gown 
 with an embroidered sash. Finally a lady looked at her 
 watch, and said to the one sitting next her, " This is very 
 strange ! " And immediately all the invited guests expressed 
 their surprise and discontent. One of the ushers (shafera) 
 went to see what could have happened. 
 
 During all this time Kitty, in her white dress, long veil, 
 and wreath of orange blossoms, was standing in the Shcherbat- 
 skys' drawing-room, with her sister, Madame Lvova, and 
 her nuptial god-mother (posazhinna'ia mat) , looking out of 
 the window, waiting in vain for the shafer to announce her 
 lover's arrival at the church. 
 
 Levin, meanwhile, in black trousers, but without either 
 vest or coat, was walking up and down his room at the hotel, 
 opening the door every minute to look out into the hall. But 
 in the hall nothing was to be seen, and wringing his hands in 
 despair, he would pour forth his complaints to Stepan Arkad- 
 yevitch, who was calmly smoking. 
 
 " Did you ever see a man in such a horribly absurd situa- 
 tion?" 
 
 "Da! abominable!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, with his 
 tranquil smile. "But be calm; they will bring it right 
 away." 
 
 " No, hang it ! " said Levin, with difficulty restraining his 
 anger. " And these miserable open vests. Absolutely use- 
 less ! " he added, looking at his tumbled shirt bosom. " And 
 what if my trunks have already gone ! " he exclaimed, quite 
 beside himself. 
 
 " You can wear mine." 
 
 " I might have done that in the first place." 
 
 " No good being absurd : wait ; it will all come out right." 
 
 The fact was that when Levin began to dress, Kuzma, his 
 old servant, was supposed to have taken out his dress coat, 
 his vest, and all that was necessary. 
 
 " But the shirt ! " cried Levin. 
 
 " You have your shirt on," replied Kuzma, with an inno- 
 cent smile. 
 
 All his things had been taken to the Shcherbatskys' house,
 
 456 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 whence they were to be sent to the railway station. The one 
 that Levin had worn all day was not fit to put on, and be- 
 sides, it did not go with his open vest ; it would take too long 
 to send to the Shcherbatskys'. They sent out to buy one; 
 there were no shops open ; it was Sunday. A shirt was 
 brought from Stepan Arkadyevitch's house ; it was ridicu- 
 lously broad and short ; at last, in despair, he had to send to 
 the Shcherbatskys' to have his trunks opened. So, while the 
 people were waiting in the church, the unfortunate groom was 
 ramping with despair up and down his room like a wild beast 
 in a c;ige, and wondering what Kitty would think now. 
 
 Finally the guilty Kuzma rushed into the room all out of 
 breath, with the shirt in his hand. 
 
 " I got there just in time, as they were carrying off the 
 trunks ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 Inside of three minutes Levin rushed through the hall, 
 without daring to look at his watch, for fear of increasing 
 his agony of mind. 
 
 " You can't change anything," said Stepan Arkadyevitch 
 to him, following leisurely. "I told you it would all come 
 out right." 
 
 IV. 
 
 " HERE they come ! There he is ! Which one? Is it the 
 youngest? Just look at her! Poor little Mdtvskka, more 
 dead than alive ! " was murmured through the crowd, as 
 Levin came in with Kitty. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch told his wife why they were late, and 
 a smile passed over the congregation as it was whispered 
 about. As for Levin, he neither saw anybody nor anything, 
 but kept his eyes fixed on his bride. Everybody said that 
 she had grown very homely during these last days, and cer- 
 tainly she did not look as pretty as usual in her bridal dress ; 
 but such was not Levin's opinion. He looked at her high 
 coiffure, her long white veil, her flowers, the trimming of her 
 dress modestly encircling her slender neck, and just showing 
 it a little in front, her remarkably graceful figure ; and she 
 seemed more beautiful to him than ever. But it was not be- 
 cause the flowers or her veil or her Parisian dress added any- 
 thing to her beauty : it was the expression of her lovely face, 
 her eyes, her lips, with their innocent sincerity, preserved in 
 spite of all this adornment.
 
 ANNA KARENINA. 457 
 
 " I was beginning to think that you had made up your mind 
 to run away, she said to him vvitu a smile. 
 
 " What happened to me was so absurd that I am ashamed 
 to tell you about it," he replied, blushing, and turning to 
 Sergei Ivanovitch. 
 
 " The tale of the shirt is a good one," said the latter, throw- 
 ing back his head with a laugh. 
 
 " Yes, yes," replied Levin, without understanding a word 
 that had been said. 
 
 " No, ! Kostia, now is the time to make a serious decision," 
 said Stepan Arkadyevitch, pretending to be greatly embar- 
 rassed. " The question is a grave one, and you must appre- 
 ciate its full importance. I have been asked whether the 
 candles shall be new ones, or those that have been partly 
 burned; the difference is ten rubles," he added. "I have 
 decided about it, but I am afraid that you will not approve 
 of it." 
 
 Levin knew that there was some joke about it ; but he 
 could not smile. 
 
 "What will you decide on? new ones, or old ones? 
 that is the question." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; new ones." 
 
 " Nu! I am very glad. The question is settled," said 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch. " Of how little importance a man is 
 at such a time as this ! " he murmured to Tchirikof , while 
 Levin drew near to his bride, after looking at her in a bewil- 
 dered way. 
 
 " Notice, Kitty, who first sets foot on the carpet! " said 
 the Countess Nordstoue, stepping up to her. "You look 
 your best," she added, addressing Levin. 
 
 " Are you frightened?" asked Marya Dmitrievna, an old 
 aunt. 
 
 " You aren't cold, are you ? Y"ou look pale. Bend forward 
 a moment," said Madame Lvova, raising her beautiful round 
 arms to repair some disarrangement of her sister's flowers. 
 
 Dolly approached in her turn, and tried to say something; 
 but her emotion choked the words, and she began to laugh 
 nervously. 
 
 Kitty looked at those around her as absent-mindedly as 
 Levin. 
 
 During this time the officiating clerg}" had again put on 
 their sacerdotal robes, and the priest, accompanied by the 
 deacon, came to the lectern placed at the entrance of the
 
 458 ANNA KARENINA. 
 
 sacred doors. The priest addressed a few words to Levin ; 
 but Levin failed to understand what lie said. 
 
 " Take her hand and go forward," whispered his shafer to 
 him. 
 
 For a long time he was unable to make out what was 
 expected of him. Then he did the opposite of what he was 
 told. Finally, just as everybody was discouraged and ready 
 to let him follow his own inspiration, he comprehended that 
 he was to take Kitty's right hand with his right hand, with- 
 out changing his position. The priest then took a few steps, 
 and stopped in front of the lectern. The relatives and 
 invited guests followed the young couple ; a murmur of 
 voices and a rustling of dresses ensued. Somebody stooped 
 down to arrange the bride's train ; then a silence so profound 
 reigned in the church, that the drops of wax could be heard 
 falling from the candles. 
 
 The old priest, in a calotte, his white hair shining like 
 silver, drawn back behind his ears, drew forth his little 
 wrinkled hands from beneath his heavy silver chasuble, 
 ornamented with a cross of gold, approached the lectern,, 
 and turned over the leaves of the missal. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch came softly, and spoke in his ear, 
 made a sign to Levin, and then stepped back. 
 
 The priest lighted two candles decorated with flowers, and, 
 holding them in his left hand, without minding the dripping 
 wax, turned towards the young couple. It was the same 
 old man who had heard Levin's confession. He looked at 
 the bride and bridegroom out of his sad, weary eyes, and 
 then, with a sigh, blessed Levin with his right hand ; then, 
 with especial tenderness, placed his fingers on Kitty's bended 
 head, gave them the candles, moved quietly away, and took 
 tlie censer. 
 
 "Is this all real?" thought Levin, glancing at Kitty's 
 profile, and noticing from the motion of her lips and her 
 eyebrows, that she felt his look. She did not raise her head; 
 but he knew from the trembling of the ruche, which reached 
 to her little pink ear, that she was stifling a sigh, and he 
 saw her hand, imprisoned in a long glove, tremble as it held 
 the candle. 
 
 Everything at once vanished from his memory, his late 
 arrival, his dissatisfaction with his friends, the foolish affair 
 of the shirt ; he no longer was conscious of anything but a 
 mixed feeling of terror and joy.
 
 ANNA KARENINA. 459 
 
 The archdeacon, a handsome man with hair curling all 
 around his head, wearing a dalmatica of silver cloth, ad- 
 vanced, raised his stole with two fingers, in an easy way, 
 and stopped before the priest. 
 
 "Bless us, O Lord!" he intoned slowly, and the words 
 echoed solemnly through the air. 
 
 " May the Lord bless you now and through all ages," 
 replied the old priest in a sweet and musical voice, still 
 turning over the leaves. 
 
 And the response chanted by the invisible choir, filled the 
 church with a deep, full sound, which increased, then ceased 
 for a moment, and softly died away. 
 
 They prayed as usual for the eternal repose and welfare 
 of their souls, for the synod, and the emperor, and then for 
 the servants of God, Konstantin and Ekaterina. 
 
 " Let us pray the Lord to send them his love, his peace, 
 and his aid," the whole church seemed to say in the voice of 
 the archdeacon. 
 
 Levin listened to these words, and was impressed by 
 them. " How did they know that aid was exactly what I 
 need? Yes, aid. What can I know, what can I do, with- 
 out help?" he thought, recalling his doubts and his recent 
 fears. 
 
 When the deacon had ended the liturgy, the priest, with a 
 book in his hand, turned toward the bridal couple, 
 
 "O God Eternal, who unitest by an indissoluble bond 
 those who are separate," he read in a strong, melodious 
 voice, "thou who didst bless Isaac and Rebecca, and showest 
 thy mercy to their descendants, bless also thy servants, 
 Konstantin and Ekaterina, and pour forth thy benefits upon 
 them. For the glory of the Father, and of the Son, and of 
 the Holy Ghost as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever 
 shall be" 
 
 "Amen," again chanted the invisible choir. 
 
 " ' Who unitest by an indissoluble bond those who are 
 separate ! ' How those profound words respond to what 
 one feels at such a time ! Does she understand it as I do?" 
 thought Levin. And he gazed into her face, and tried to 
 read her thoughts. 
 
 From the expression of Kitty's face he concluded that she 
 did feel it as he did ; but he was mistaken ; absorbed by 
 the feeling which overpowered and filled her heart more and 
 more, she had scarcely followed the religious service. She
 
 400 ANNA KARENINA. 
 
 felt a deep joy at seeing at last fulfilled that which, for six 
 weeks, had made her happy and restless by turns. From 
 the moment when, in her cinnamon-colored dress, she had 
 approached Levin to give herself silently wholly to him, the 
 past, she felt, had been torn from her soul, and had given 
 place to another existence, new and unknown, without, how- 
 ever, changing her outward life. These six weeks had been 
 at once a very happy and very trying time. Her whole life, 
 her hopes and desires, were all concentrated on this man, 
 whom she did not fully understand, towards whom she felt a 
 sentiment which she understood still less, and who, attract- 
 ing her and repelling her by turns, inspired her with a com- 
 plete and absolute indifference towards her past life. Her 
 former habits, the things that she had loved, and even her 
 relatives, whom she loved, and who loved her, her mother, 
 who was pained by her indifference, and her gentle father, 
 whom she had loved more than any one else in the world, 
 none of them were anything more to her ; and while alarmed 
 by her disloyalty, she rejoiced in the sentiment which was 
 the cause of it. But this new life had not yet begun, and 
 she could form no definite idea of it. It was a sweet and 
 terrible expectation of something new and unknown ; and 
 this expectation, as well as the remorse of not regretting the 
 past, were at an end, and the new life was beginning. She 
 was frightened naturalty, but the present moment was only 
 the sanctification of the decisive hour which came six weeks 
 before. 
 
 The priest, turning towards the lectern, took Kitty's little 
 ring, and with difficulty passed it as far as the first joint of 
 Levin's finger. 
 
 " I unite thee, Konstantin, servant of God, to Ekatarina, 
 servant of God ; " and he repeated the same formula in plac- 
 ing a large ring on Kitty's delicate little finger. 
 
 The bridal pair tried to understand what was expected of 
 them, but each time made a mistake, and the priest corrected 
 them in a low voice. At last the priest, blessing them with 
 his fingers, again gave Kitty the large ring, and Levin the 
 small one, and again they failed to interchange them as they 
 should have done. Dolly, Tchirikof and Stepan Arkadyevitch 
 stepped out to assist them in their difficulty. The people 
 around them smiled, and whispered; but they remained 
 more serious and solemn than before ; and the smile on Ste- 
 pan Arkadyevitoh's face, as he went to them, died away. It 
 seemed to him that a smile might be offensive to them.
 
 ANNA KABENINA. 461 
 
 " O Thou who, from the beginning of the world, hast 
 created man, male and female," continued the priest after 
 the ceremony of the rings, " and hast given him woman to 
 be la's inseparable aid, do Thou, our Lord God, bless thy 
 servants Konstantin and Ekatarina, and confirm their nuptials 
 in faith and concord and truth and love ! " 
 
 Levin's breast heaved ; disobedient tears filled his eyes. 
 He felt that all his thoughts on marriage, his visions of the 
 future, had hitherto been infantile. And this was something 
 that had never been comprehensible to him ; and now he 
 understood its meaning less than ever. 
 
 V. 
 
 ALL Moscow was at the marriage. In this crowd of hand- 
 somely dressed women, and men in white neckties or in uni- 
 form, there was a cautious whispering, especially among the 
 men, for the women were absorbed in observing all the details 
 of the ceremony so full of interest for them. 
 
 A little group of friends surrounded the bride, and among 
 them were her two sisters, Dolly, and the beautiful Madame 
 Lvova just returned from abroad. 
 
 " Why is Mary in lilac at a wedding? It is almost mourn- 
 ing," said Madame KorsuuskaTa. 
 
 " With her complexion it's her only salvation," replied 
 Madame Drubetskai'a. k 'But why did the}' have the cere- 
 mony in the evening? That savors of the merchant." 
 
 "It is pleasauter. I, too, was married in the evening," 
 said Madame Korsunska'ia, sighing, and recalling how beau- 
 tiful she had been on that day, and how ridiculously in love 
 with her her husband had been. Now it was all so different ! 
 
 " They say that those who have been shafers more than ten 
 times never marry. I tried to make myself proof against 
 marriage, in this way, but the place was taken," said Count 
 Siniavin to the handsome young Princess Tcharskaia, who 
 had designs on him. 
 
 The latter only replied with a smile. She was looking at 
 Kitty and thinking what she would do when it came her turn 
 to l>e standing in Kitty's place, with Count Siniavin ; then she 
 would remind him of the joke that he had made. 
 
 Shcherbatsky confided to the old Freilina Nikolayeva his 
 intention to place the crown on Kitty's headdress to bring 
 her good luck.
 
 462 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 " There is no need of wearing a headdress," replied Fre"i- 
 lina Nikolayeva, deciding that it' the widower whom she was 
 setting her cap for should offer himself, she would be married 
 very simply. " I don't like this display." 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch was jesting with the lady next him, de- 
 claring that the fashion of wedding tours was becoming wide- 
 spread because young couples were shamefaced. 
 
 " Your brother may well be proud of his choice.. She is 
 charming. You must envy him." 
 
 " The time has gone by for that, Darya Dmitrievna," he 
 replied, and an unexpected expression of sadness overspread 
 his face. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch was telling his sister-in-law his conun- 
 drum about divorce. 
 
 " Somebody ought to arrange her wreath," replied the 
 latter, without listening. 
 
 ' k What a shame that she has grown so ugly ! " said the 
 Countess Nordstone to Madame Lvova. k ' After all, he isn't 
 worth her little finger, is he ? " 
 
 "I don't agree with yon; I am very much pleased with 
 him, and not only because he is going to be my leav-fr&re" 
 replied Madame Lvova. " How well he appears ! It is so 
 difficult to appear well at such a time. He is neither ridicu- 
 lous nor stiff ; one feels that he is touched." 
 
 " Did you expect this marriage?" 
 
 " Almost. He has always been in love with her." 
 
 " Nu! We shall see which will be the first to step on the 
 carpet. I have advised Kitty to look out for that." 
 
 "That was not worth while," replied Madame Lvova ; "in 
 our family we are all submissive to our husbands." 
 
 " But I have taken pains to keep mine under the thumb. 
 How is it with you, Dolly?" 
 
 Dolly was standing near them, and heard them, but she 
 did not reply. She was affected ; tears filled her eyes, and 
 she could not have uttered a word without crying. She was 
 glad for Kitty and Levin ; she was thinking of her own 
 wedding; and as she glanced at the- brilliant Stepau Arkad- 
 yevitch, she forgot the real state of things, and only remem- 
 bered his first, innocent love. She was thinking, too, of 
 other women, her friends, whom she remembered at this 
 important and solemn hour of their lives ; how they, like 
 Kitty, stood under the crown ; how they renounced the p.-ist 
 with joy, and began a mysterious future, with hope and fear
 
 AXNA KARtiXZXA. 463 
 
 in their hearts. Amoug the number she recalled her dear 
 Aimu, who she had just heard was to be divorced; she had 
 seen her enveloped iu a white veil, as pure as Kitty, with 
 her wreath of orange-blossoms. And now? "It is terribly 
 strange ! " she whispered. 
 
 The sisters and friends were not the only ones to follow 
 with interest the minutest details of the ceremony ; there 
 were women among the strangers looking on, who held their 
 breath, for fear of losing a single movement of bride or 
 bridegroom, and who replied absent-mindedly to the jokes 
 or idle remarks of the men, often not even hearing them. 
 
 " Why is she so troubled? Are they marrying her against 
 her will? " 
 
 "Against her will? to such a handsome man? Is he a 
 prince? " 
 
 " Is the one in white satin her sister? NIL! Just hear 
 the deacon howl, ' Let her fear her husband' !" 
 
 " Are the singers from Tchudof ?" l 
 
 " No ; from the synod." 
 
 "I have asked the servant about it. He says that her 
 husband is going to take her away to his estate. Awfully 
 rich, they say. That is why she is marrying him." 
 
 "They make a pretty pair." 
 
 " And you pretend to sa}', Ma^a Vasilievna, that they 
 don't wear hoop-skirts any longer. Just look at that one in 
 a puce-colored dress ! You would say she was an ambassa- 
 dor's wife by the way she is dressed. Do you see now? " 
 
 ' What a sweet little creature the bride is ! like a lamb 
 for the slaughter. You may say what you please, I can't 
 help pitying her." 
 
 Such were the remarks of the spectators who had been 
 smart enough to get past the door. 
 
 VI. 
 
 JUST at this moment one of the officiating priests came to 
 spread a piece of rose-colored silk through the centre of the 
 church, while the choir intoned a psalm of difficult and com- 
 plicated execution, in which the tenor and bass sang respon- 
 sively ; the priest motioned to the pair and pointed to the 
 carpet. 
 
 They were both familiar with the superstition that which- 
 
 1 A monastery, famous for its singers.
 
 464 ANNA KARENINA. 
 
 ever one of a bridal couple first sets foot on the carpet be- 
 comes the real head of the family, but neither Kitty nor 
 Levin thought anything about it alter they had gone a few 
 steps. And they did not hear the remarks exchanged about 
 them or the discussions between those who thought that he 
 was the first and those who were sure that they touched it 
 simultaneously. 
 
 A new office began. Kitty listened to the words of the 
 prayers and tried to understand them, but without success. 
 The further the ceremony proceeded, the more her heart over- 
 flowed with triumphant joy, which prevented her from fixing 
 her attention. 
 
 They prayed to God that " the pair might have the gift of 
 chastity, and might rejoice in the sight of many sons and 
 daughters"; they recalled how God had made "the first 
 woman from Adam's side," that "the woman must leave 
 father and mother and cling to her husband, and they twain 
 shall be one flesh " ; they prayed God ' ' to give them fecun- 
 dity and prosperity, as he had blessed Isaac and Rebecca, 
 Joseph, Moses, and Sephora, and to let them see their chil- 
 dren to the third and fourth generation." 
 
 "All this is lovely," thought Kitt_y as she heard these 
 words, and a smile of happiness, which was reflected on the 
 faces of all who saw her, shone on her fair, lovely face. 
 
 " Put it entirely on," were the words heard in every part 
 of the church as the priest brought forward the crowns, and 
 Shcherbatsky, in his three-button gloves, tremblingly held 
 the wreath high above Kitty's head. 
 
 " Put it on," whispered the latter, smiling. 
 
 Levin turned round, and, struck by her radiant face, he 
 felt, like her, happy and serene. 
 
 They listened with joy in their hearts to the reading of the 
 Epistle, and the deacon's voice echoing the last verse fully 
 appreciated by the strangers, who were impatiently waiting 
 for it. Joyfully they drank the warm red wine and water 
 from the flat cup. and followed the priest almost gayly as he 
 led them around the lectern, holding both their hands in his. 
 Shcherbatsky and Tchirikof, carrying the crowns, followed 
 them smiling, and constantly treading on the bride's train. 
 The gleam of joy on Kitty's face seemed to be communicated 
 to all present. Levin was sure that the deacon and the 
 priest fell under its influence as well as himself. 
 
 When the crowns had been laid aside, the priest read the
 
 ANNA KARBNINA. 465 
 
 last prayers and congratulated the young couple. Levin 
 looked at Kitty ami thought he had never seen her so beauti- 
 ful ; it was the beauty of that inward radiance which trans- 
 formed her ; he wanted to speak to her, but checked himself, 
 fearing that the ceremony was not yet over. The priest said 
 gently to him, with a kindly smile, 
 
 "Kiss your wife, and you, kiss your husband," and he 
 took their candles. 
 
 Levin with circumspection kissed bis wife's smiling lips, 
 gave her his arm, and went out of the church with a new 
 and strange feeling of being suddenly very near to her. He 
 had not been able to realize all that was happening until 
 now, and did not begin to believe it until their astonished 
 and timid eyes met ; then he felt very really that they were 
 indeed one. 
 
 That same evening, after the supper, the young couple 
 started for the country. 
 
 VII. 
 
 VRONSKY and Anna had been travelling together in Europe 
 for three months. They had visited Venice, Rome, Naples ; 
 and now they were just arrived at a small Italian city, where 
 they intended to make a considerable stay. 
 
 A gentleman was asking some questions of the impos- 
 ing hotel-clerk, who stood with his hands in his pockets, and 
 scarcely deigned to reply. He was a handsome man, with 
 thick, pomaded hair, through which ran a part that started 
 from his neck. He wore a dress suit, and a huge expanse 
 of white linen covered his bosom. A bunch of watch-charms 
 was poised upon his rotund belly. Hearing steps on the 
 other side of the entrance, the major-domo turned around, 
 and seeing the Russian count, who rented his most expen- 
 sive apartments, he respectfully drew his hands out o his 
 pockets, and, with a low bow, informed the count that a 
 messenger had come to say that the palazzo was at his 
 service. The agent was ready to sign the agreement. 
 
 "Ah! Very good," said Vronsky. "Is madame at 
 home?" 
 
 " She has been out, but she has returned," replied the 
 major-domo. 
 
 Vronsky took off his wide-brimmed soft hat, and wiped 
 his heated forehead with his handkerchief, and smoothed
 
 466 ANNA KAREN1NA. 
 
 his hair, which was so arranged as to hide his baldness. 
 Then he cast a hasty glance at the stranger, who had 
 stopped, and was looking at him earnestly. 
 
 'This gentleman is a Russian, and was inquiring for 
 you," said the major-domo. 
 
 With a ridiculous feeling of anger because he never could 
 get away from acquaintances, and at the same time a pleas- 
 ure at the idea of any distraction from his monotonous 
 existence, Vronsky turned about, and at one and the same 
 time their eyes met. 
 
 ' Golennishchef !" 
 
 " Vronsky ! " 
 
 It was indeed Golennishchef, one of Vronsky's school- 
 mates in the Corps of Pages. He belonged to the liberal 
 party ; and, after his graduation, he took a civil rank 
 (fc/im), and did not enter the army. The comrades had 
 entirely drifted apart since their graduation, and had not 
 even met but once. At this meeting Vronsky perceived 
 that Goleunishchef looked down from the lofty heights of his 
 liberal profession upon Vrousky's profession and career. 
 Consequently, Vronsky, at this meeting with Golennishchef, 
 gave him that cold and haughty reception which it was his 
 fashion to treat people withal, as much as to say : 'You may 
 like or dislike my manner of life, but it is absolutely of no 
 consequence to me ; you must prize me if you want to know 
 me.' Golenuishchef was entirely indifferent to Vronsky's 
 manner. That meeting, it would seem, must have driven 
 them still further apart ; yet, now at the sight of each other, 
 they each uttered a cry of delight. Vronsky had never 
 realized how glad he would be to see Golennishchef ; but 
 the fact was, that he did not know how bored he was. He 
 forgot the unpleasant circumstances of their previous meet- 
 ing, and with manifest pleasure extended his hand. And 
 likewise a look of satisfaction succeeded the troubled expres- 
 sion on Golennishchef 's face. 
 
 " How glad I am to see you ! " said Vronsky, with a 
 friendly smile, that showed his handsome white teeth. 
 
 *' I heard the name Vronsky, but which I did not know 
 very, very glad." 
 
 " But come in ! Nu! What are you doing?" 
 
 "Oh, I have been living here for more than a year, work- 
 ing." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Vronsky, with interest. " But come in."
 
 KARtiXIXA. 467 
 
 And, according to the habit of Russians when the^y do 
 not wish to be understood by their servants, he said in 
 French, 
 
 " Do you know Madame Kar6nina? "We have been trav- 
 elling together. I was just going to her room." And while 
 he was speaking he studied Golennishchef s face. 
 
 "Ah! I did not know" (but he did know), remarked 
 Golennishchef carelessly. " Have you been here long?" 
 
 "I? Oh, this is the fourth day," replied Vrousky, contin- 
 uing to study his companion. 
 
 "Da! He is a gentleman, and looks upon things in the 
 right light," he said to himself, giving a favorable interpreta- 
 tion to Golennishchef's way of turning the conversation ; "he 
 can be presented to Anna ; his views are all right." 
 
 Vronsky, during this three months of travel with Anna, 
 had felt every time that he met with new acquaintances a 
 hesitation as to the manner in which they would look upon 
 his relations with Anna, and for the most part the men had 
 looked upon them " in the right light." If he or they had 
 been asked what they meant by the expression " in the right 
 light," they would have found it hard to tell ; but they did not 
 care to press the matter, and contented themselves with a 
 wise discretion, not asking questions or making allusions, 
 and behaved altogether in the way of well-bred people when 
 presented with a delicate and complex situation. 
 
 Vronsky instantly saw that Golennishchef was one of these 
 discreet people, and was therefore glad of the encounter. 
 Indeed, Golennishchef would behave towards Madame 
 Kar6nina in exactly the manner that Vronsky demanded, and 
 it evidently would cost him no effort to avoid all words that 
 would lead to unpleasant suggestions. 
 
 He had never seen Anna before, and was delighted with 
 her beauty, and still more with the perfect simplicity with 
 which she accepted the situation. She flushed when she saw 
 Vronsky come in with Golennishchef, and this infantile color 
 which spread over her frank and lovely face pleased him 
 immensely. But he was delighted because, even in the pres- 
 ence of a stranger, which might have caused restraint, she 
 called Vronsky Aleksi, and told about their plans for a new 
 house of their own, which she dignified with the name of 
 palazzo. This simple and straightforward facing of their 
 situation was delightful to Golennishchef. Perceiving 
 Anna a happy and vivacious manner, knowing Aleksei Alek-
 
 468 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 sandrovitch and Vronsk}', it seemed to him that he under- 
 stood, as she herself did not understand) how she could 
 desert her unhappy husband and her son, and lose her good 
 repute, and still feel animated, gay, and happy. 
 
 "This palazzo is in the guide-book," said Golennishchef. 
 " There is a superb Tintoretto there. In his latest manner." 
 
 " Do you know? It is splendid weather ; let's go over and 
 look at it again," said Vronsky, addressing Anna. 
 
 il l should like to very much. I will go and put on my 
 hat. Did you say it was hot? " halting on the threshold and 
 looking back to Vronsky. And again the bright color came 
 into her face. 
 
 Vronsky saw by her look that she was uncertain in what 
 way to treat Golennishchef, and was mutely entreating him 
 to tell her if her behavior was what he desired. 
 
 He looked at her long and tenderly. Then he replied, 
 
 " No, not very." 
 
 Anna perceived by his eyes that he was satisfied with her, 
 and replying with a smile, she went out with a quick and 
 graceful motion. 
 
 The friends looked at each other, and there came into the 
 faces of both an expression of embarrassment, as though 
 Golennishchef, admiring her, wished to make some compli- 
 mentary remark and had not the courage, while Vronsky 
 both wished and feared to hear it. 
 
 " Talc vot Jeak," Vronsky began, so that some conversa- 
 tion might be started. " So you are settled here? Are you 
 still interested in the same pursuits?" he asked, remember- 
 ing that he had been told that Golennishchef was writing 
 something. 
 
 " Yes ; I have been writing the second part of the Tit-o 
 Origins," replied Golennishchef, kindling with delight at this 
 question ; " that is, to be more exact, I am not writing yet, 
 but have been collecting and preparing my materials. It 
 will be far more extended, and will endeavor to answer all 
 questions. With us, in Russia, they can't understand that 
 we are the successors of Byzantium," and he began a long 
 dissertation. ' 
 
 Vronsky at first was confused because he did not know 
 about the first part of the Two Origins, about which the 
 author spoke as though it were a classic. But afterwards, as 
 Golennishchef began to develop his thought, and Vronsky 
 saw what he meant, his interest wakened even though he did
 
 ANNA KARBNINA. 469 
 
 not know about the Two Origins; and as he listened, he 
 felt that his ideas were good. But it was unpleasant for 
 him to see Goleuuishehefs agitation. The longer he spoke, 
 the brighter grew his eyes, the more animated were his argu- 
 ments in refutation of his opponents, and the more angry 
 and excited the expression of his face. Vronsky remem- 
 bered Goleunishchef at the School of Pages, a lad of 
 small stature, thin, nervous, agile, a good-hearted and good- 
 natured molehill,, always at the head of his class, and he 
 could not imagine how he had changed so much and become 
 so irritable. And it was especially incomprehensible to him 
 that Goleuuishchef, a man of good social standing, should put 
 himself down on the level of these common scribblers, and get 
 angry with them because they criticised him. Was it worth 
 while? It displeased him ; but, as he felt that Golennishchef 
 was making himself miserable, he was sorry for him. 
 
 This unhappy expression was particularly noticeable on his 
 vivacious, handsome face just as Anna came in, he was so 
 much occupied with the angry expression of his thoughts. 
 
 As Anna, in walking costume, and with a sunshade in her 
 lovely, slender hand, came in and stood near them, Vronsky 
 was happy to turn away from Golennishchef's keen and 
 feverish eyes, and to look with ever-new love at his charming 
 friend, radiant with life and gayety. 
 
 It was hard for Golennishchef to come to himself, and at 
 first he was surly and cross ; but Anna, through her amiable 
 disposition, quickly brought him into sympathy with her gay 
 and natural manner. She gradually led the conversation 
 round to painting, about which he spoke very well, and she 
 listened to him attentively. 
 
 " I am very glad of one thing," said Anna to Golennish- 
 chef, " Aleksei will have a nice atelier. Of course thou hast 
 been into this room?" she added, turning to Vronsky and 
 speaking to him in Russian, using the familiar tui (thou) as 
 though she already looked upon Golennishchef as an inti- 
 mate, before whom it was not necessary to be reserved. 
 
 "Do you paint?" asked Golennishchef, turning viva- 
 ciously to Vronsky. 
 
 " Yes, I used to paint long ago, and now I am going to 
 take it up again," replied Vronsky, with color. 
 
 " He has great talent," cried Anna, with a radiant smile. 
 "Of course I am not a judge. But good judges whom I 
 know say so."
 
 470 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 ANNA, during this first period of freedom and rapid conva- 
 lescence, felt herself exuberantly happy and full of joyous 
 life. The memory of her husband's unhappiness did not 
 poison her pleasure. This memory in one way was too hor- 
 rible to think of. In another, her husband's uuhappiness 
 was the cause of a happiness for her too great to allow 
 regret. The memory of everything that had followed since 
 her sickness, the reconciliation with her husband, the quar- 
 rel, Vronsky's wound, his sudden appearance, the prepara- 
 tions for the divorce, the flight from her husband's home, the 
 separation from her son, all this seemed like a frightful 
 dream, from which her journey abroad alone with Vrousky 
 had relieved her. Of course, what she had done was evil, 
 but this was her only salvation, and it was better not to 
 return to those horrible memories. 
 
 There was one consolation which somewhat appeased her 
 conscience whenever she thought of the past. She expressed 
 it to herself at the very first moment of her departure : 
 " I have done my husband an irrevocable injury, but at least 
 I get no advantage from his misfortune. I also suffer and 
 shall suffer. I give up all that was dearest to me ; I give up 
 my good name and my son. I have sinned, and therefore I 
 do not desire happiness or a divorce, and I accept my 
 shame and the separation from my son." 
 
 But however sincere Anna was when she reasoned thus, 
 she had not suffered. She had felt no shame. With that 
 tact which both she and Vronsky possessed to perfection they 
 had avoided, while abroad, any meeting with Russian ladies, 
 and the\" had never put themselves into any false position, 
 but had associated only with those who pretended to under- 
 stand their situation much better than they themselves did. 
 Nor even the separation from her son, whom she loved, 
 caused her any pain at this time. Her baby, her daughter, 
 was so lovely and so filled her heart, that she seemed to have 
 only the daughter, and rarely thought of the sou. 
 
 The joy of living caused by her convalescence was so keen, 
 the conditions of her existence were so new and delightful, 
 that Anna felt extraordinarily happy. The more she came 
 to know Vronsky, the more she loved. She loved him for his 
 own sake and for his love for her. The complete surrender
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 471 
 
 to him was a delight. His presence was always a joy. All 
 the traits of his character seemed to her to improve on 
 acquaintance. His appearance, now that he dressed in civil 
 attire instead of uniform, was as entrancing to her as for a 
 young girl desperately in love. In everything that he said, 
 thought, or did she saw only the good and the noble side. 
 She herself felt almost frightened at this excessive worship 
 of him. She tried in vain to find any imperfection in him. 
 She did not dare to confess to him her own inferiority, lest 
 he, knowing it, should love her less. And now there was 
 nothing that terrified her so as the thought of losing his love. 
 But her terror was not justified by Vronsky's conduct ; he 
 never manifested the slightest regret at having sacrificed to 
 his passion a career in which he would certainly have played 
 an important part. Moreover, he was always respectful, and 
 careful that she should never feel in the slightest degree the 
 compromising character of her position. This man, so mas- 
 culine, so wilful, had no will beside hers, and his only aim 
 seemed to be to anticipate her desires. And she could not 
 but appreciate this, though this assiduity itself in his atten- 
 tions, this atmosphere of lover which he threw around her, 
 sometimes wearied her. 
 
 Vronsky, meantime, notwithstanding the complete reali- 
 zation of all that he had desired so long, was not entirely 
 happy. He soon began to feel that the accomplishment 
 of his desires was only a small portion of the mountain of 
 pleasure which he had anticipated. This reality now came 
 to him like the eternal error which people make, who imagine 
 how great their pleasure will be in the accomplishment of 
 their desires. When he was first united with her, and had 
 put on his citizen's clothes, he felt all the pleasure of a 
 freedom such as he had never known before ; and he was 
 satisfied with that, and with her love, but not for long. He 
 soon began to feel in his soul desires that caused pain. In- 
 voluntarily, he began to follow every light caprice as though 
 they were serious aspirations and ends. 
 
 To fill sixteen hours of each day was not easy, living as 
 they did abroad in perfect freedom, away from the social 
 and military duties that took his time at Petersburg. He 
 could not think of trying the distractions which he had 
 known in the previous trips abroad ; one time a scheme of a 
 supper with some acquaintances caused Anna a most unex- 
 pected and uncomfortable storm of despair. The enjoyment
 
 472 ANNA KARtiNIXA. 
 
 with foreign or Russian society was impossible on account of 
 the peculiarity of their relation. And to amuse himself with 
 the curiosities of the country was not to be spoken of, not 
 only because he had already seen them, but because in his 
 quality of Russian and man of sense, he could not find 
 in them that immense importance that the English are 
 pleased to attach to them. 
 
 And as a hungry animal throws itself on everything that 
 falls before its teeth, so Vronsky, with extraordinary indis- 
 crimination, attacked, now politics, now painting, now new 
 books. 
 
 When he was young, he had shown some inclination 
 towards art, and not knowing what to do with his money, 
 had made a collection of engravings. And now he took up 
 the idea of painting, in order to give his activity some scope. 
 He was not lacking in good task, and he had a gift of imita- 
 tion, which he confounded with original talent. All styles 
 were one to him, and for some time he hung doubtful which 
 he would choose, the religious, the historical, genre, or the 
 realistic. He understood all kinds, and could get inspiration 
 for each ; but he did not seek his inspiration directly from 
 nature, from life ; and thus he understood neither, except as 
 he had seen them expressed in art ; but he executed tolerable 
 sketches. More than all others, the graceful and effective 
 French school appealed to him, and he began a portrait of 
 Anna in this style. She wore an Italian costume ; and 
 this portrait seemed to him, and to all who saw it, very 
 successful. 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE old, dilapitated palazzo in which they set up their 
 establishment served to endow Vrousky with an agreeable 
 illusion ; it seemed to him that he had gone through a meta- 
 morphosis, and from a Russian proprietor, a colonel in retire- 
 ment, he had been changed into an enlightened amateur and 
 protector of art, who, in his own modest way, painted a 
 little, while sacrificing the world, his ties, his ambition, for a 
 woman's love. The ancient palace, with lofty painted ceil- 
 ings, its walls covered with frescoes, its mosaic floors, its 
 vases on mantel-piece and console, its yellow tapestries, its 
 thick, yellow curtains at the windows, its carved doors, and 
 its vast, melancholy halls, filled with paintings, lent itself 
 readilv to his illusion.
 
 ANXA KAEtiNINA. 473 
 
 His new role satisfied Vronsky for some time. He made 
 the acquaintance of an Italian paiuter, under whose instruc- 
 tion he made some studies from nature. At the same time, 
 he undertook to make investigations into Italian lite during 
 the middle ages, which inspired him with such a lively 
 interest, that he began to wear a mediaeval hat, and throw his 
 plaid over his shoulders in the antique st}"le, which was very 
 becoming to him. 
 
 ' Do you like Mikhailof's painting?" asked Vronsky one 
 morning of (iolennishchef, who came in to see him, and at 
 the same time he handed him a Russian paper, containing 
 an article on this artist, who had just completed a picture of 
 such merit, that it had been sold on the easel. He was 
 living in this same city, without receiving any official encour- 
 agement or aid ; and the article severely criticised the gov- 
 ernment and the academy for neglecting an artist of such 
 genius. 
 
 " I know him," replied Golennishchef. " He certainly has 
 no lack of talent, but his theories are absolutely false. He 
 always shows the Ivanof-Strausz-Renan tendencies in his 
 conceptions of Christ and the religious life." 
 
 " What is the subject of his painting?" asked Anna. 
 
 " Christ before Pilate. The Christ is a Jew of the most 
 pronounced type of realism." 
 
 And as this subject was a favorite one with him, he began 
 to develop his ideas. 
 
 " I cannot understand how they can fall into such a gross 
 mistake. The type of the Christ in art was well defined by 
 the old masters. If they want to represent a sage or a 
 revolutionist, let them take Franklin or Sokrates, or Char- 
 lotte Corday, anybody they please, but not Christ. 
 He is the oulv one that art ought not to meddle with, and 
 then " 
 
 "Is it true that this Mikhailof is in misery ? " asked 
 Vronsky, who felt that in his quality of Russian Maecenas he 
 ought to find some way of aiding the artist without regard to 
 the value of his painting. " Couldn't we ask him to paint 
 Anna Arkadyevna's portrait?" 
 
 'Why mine?" she demanded. "After .your portrait of 
 me. I want no other. It would be better to let him paint 
 Ani [so she called her daughter], or her," she added, with 
 a furtive glance at Vronsky, and pointing to the pretty 
 Italian nurse, who was just taking the baby into the garden.
 
 474 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 This Italian woman, whose mediaeval type of beauty Vrousky 
 admired, and whose face he had taken as a model, was the 
 only shadow in Anna's life. She was afraid that she was 
 going to be jealous, and was accordingly all the more kind 
 to her and her little boy. Vronsky looked out of the window, 
 and then catching Anna's e}'es, he turned to Golenuishchef. 
 
 " Do you know this Mikhailof ?" 
 
 "I have met him. He is an original \_tcl>udak~\ , without 
 any education, one of these new-fashioned savages such 
 as you meet with now-a-days you know them these free- 
 thinkers, who rush d'emblee [headlong] into atheism, mate- 
 rialism, universal negation. Once," Golennishchef went on 
 to say, without allowing Vronsky or Anna to put in a word, 
 " once the free-thinker was a man of lofty, religious, and 
 moral ideas, who did not ignore the laws by which society is 
 regulated, and who reached freedom of thought only after 
 long struggles. But now we have a new type of them, 
 free-thinkers who grow up without even knowing that there 
 are such things as laws in morality and religion, who will 
 not admit that sure authorities exist, and who possess only 
 the sentiment of negation , in a word, savages. Mikhai'lof is 
 one of these. He is the son of a major-domo \_ober-laMi~] at 
 Moscow, and never had any education. He entered the 
 academy, and showed some promise. He was willing to be 
 taught, for he is not a fool ; and, with this end in view, he 
 turned to that source of all learning, the magazines and 
 reviews. In the good old times, if a man let us say a 
 Frenchman wanted to get an education, he would study 
 the classics, the preachers, the tragic poets, the historians, 
 the philosophers ; and you can see all the intellectual labor 
 that involved. But now-a-days it is far more simple ; he 
 turns to negative literature, and it is very easy to get a 
 smattering of such a science. And, again, twenty years ago, 
 this same literature bore traces of the struggle against the 
 authorities and secular traditions of the past ; and these 
 very traces of struggle gave an inkling that these things 
 existed. But now no longer are pains taken to combat with 
 the past. Men are contented with words. natural selection, 
 Evolution, struggle for existence, negation, and all. In my 
 article" 
 
 "I'll tell you what we must do," said Anna, resolutely, 
 cutting short Golennishchef s verbiage, after exchanging a 
 glance with Vronsky ; "let us go and see your painter."
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 475 
 
 Golennishchef readily consented ; and as the artist's studio 
 was situated in a remote quarter, they had a carriage called. 
 An hour later, the carriage, with Golennishchef, Vronsk}-, 
 and Anna, stopped in front of a new and ugly house. A 
 woman came to receive them, and told them that Mikhai'lof 
 was at his studio, only a few steps away. The visitors 
 sent in their cards, and begged to be admitted to see his 
 paintings. 
 
 X. 
 
 MIKHAILOF was at work as usual, when the cards of Count 
 Vronsky and Golennishchef were brought him. He had 
 been painting all the morning in his studio ; but when he 
 reached his house, he became enraged with his wife because 
 of her failure to make terms with an exacting landlady. 
 
 "I have told you tweuty times not to dispute with her. 
 You are a fool anyway ; but when you try to argue in Italian, 
 you are three times as much of a fool." 
 
 "Why do you get behindhand so? It is not my fault. 
 If I had any money " 
 
 " For heaven's sake, give me some peace ! " cried Mikhai'- 
 lof, his voice thick with tears ; and putting his hands over 
 his ears, he hastily rushed to his workroom, separated from 
 the sitting-room by a partition, and bolted the door. " She 
 hasn't any common sense," he said to himself, sitting down 
 at his table and addressing himself to his work with feverish 
 ardor. 
 
 He never worked better than when money was wanting, 
 and especially after a quarrel with his wife. He had begun 
 a study of a man suddenly seized with a tempest of wrath. 
 But now he was not able to find it, and so he went back to 
 his wife with an air of vexation, and without looking at her, 
 asked his eldest daughter for the sketch which he had given 
 her. After a long search it was found, soiled and covered 
 with drops of tallow. He took it as it was, laid it on the 
 table, examined it from a distance, squinting his eyes, and 
 then smiled, with a satisfied gesture. 
 
 "So! so!" he cried, taking a pencil and drawing some 
 rapid lines. One of the tallow spots gave his sketch a new 
 aspect. 
 
 As he worked he remembered the prominent chin of the 
 man of whom lie bought his cigars, and instantly he gave his 
 design an energetic and sharp outline, and the sketch ceased
 
 476 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 to be something vague and dead, but became animated and 
 alive. He laughed with delight. As he carefully finished 
 his design, the two cards were brought him. 
 
 "1 will come instantly," he replied. Then he went back 
 to his wife. 
 
 "Nit, come, Sasha, don't be vexed," he said, with a smile 
 at once tender and timid. "You were wrong; so was J. 
 I will settle matters." And giving her a kiss of reconcilia- 
 tion, he put on an olive overcoat with velvet collar, took his 
 hat, and hurried to his studio, greatly wondering what the 
 visit of these stylish Russian geutlemen, who came to see 
 him in a carriage, could mean. 
 
 In last analysis his opinion on the painting which was on 
 exhibition then was as follows: "No one could produce 
 another like it." It was not that he believed himself superior 
 to the Raphaels ; but he was sure that he had accomplished 
 in it his utmost desires, and he did not believe that others 
 could do as much. Yet in spite of this conviction, which 
 dated from the day that the picture w r as begun, he attached 
 great value to the judgment of the public, and the expecta- 
 tion of what this judgment would be stirred him to the depths 
 of his soul. He felt that his critics had a depth of insight 
 superior even to his own, and he expected to have them dis- 
 cover in his picture new features that had escaped his own 
 observation. As he hurried on with long strides he was 
 struck, in spite of his preoccupation, by the appearance of 
 Anna, who was standing in a soft radiance in the shadow of 
 the portico, talking with Golennishchef and watching the 
 artist's approach, as though she were trying to study him 
 from a distance. The artist, without definite consciousness 
 of it, instantly stowed away in the pigeon-holes of his brain 
 the impression that she made on him, to make use of it some 
 day, just as he had used the tobacconist's chin. 
 
 The visitors, whose ideas of Mikhaflof had been greatly 
 modified by Golenuishchef's description of him, were still 
 more disenchanted when they saw him. He was a thick-set 
 man, of medium height, and his nervous walk, his chestnut- 
 colored hat, his olive-green coat, and his tight trousers, out 
 of date, produced an impression which the vulgarity of bis long 
 face and the mixture of timidity and pretentious dignity which 
 it expressed were not calculated to render more favorable. 
 
 " Do me the honor to enter," he said, trying to assume an 
 air of indifference, while he turned the key and opened the 
 door of his studio.
 
 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 477 
 
 XI. 
 
 As soon as they entered, Mikhai'lof again glanced at his 
 guests. Vrousky's face, with its rather prominent cheek- 
 bones, instantly engraved itself in his memory, for this man's 
 artistic sense was always at work, storing up new materials. 
 His delicate and shrewd observations were based on almost 
 imperceptible indications. " That one [meaning Golennish- 
 chef] must be a Russian resident in Italy." Mikhai'lof 
 could not remember either his name or the place where he 
 had met him, and still less, whether he had ever spoken 
 to him ; but he remembered the faces that he saw, and he 
 knew that he had once before classed him in the immense 
 category of faces which lack expression in spite an apparent 
 air of originality. A very high forehead and an abundance 
 of long hair gave his head a semblance of individuality which 
 might easily deceive, while an expression of puerile agitation 
 was concentrated in the narrow space between his eyes. 
 Vronsky and Anna were, according to Mikhai'lof's intuition, 
 Russians of high rank, rich, and ignorant of art, like all 
 rich Russians who play the amateur and the connoisseur. 
 
 "They have undoubtedly seen all the old galleries," he 
 thought, "and now are visiting the studios of the German 
 charlatans and the imbecile English pre-Raphaelites, and 
 bring their tour to an end by doing me the honor of a visit." 
 
 He knew very well the fashion in which dilettante visited 
 the studios of modern painters, and they amused him rather 
 than vexed him. He saw that their single aim was to be 
 able to prove the incontestible superiority of ancient over 
 modern art. He expected all this, and he read it in the 
 indifference with which his visitors conversed together as 
 they walked up and down the studio, leisurely examining 
 the manikins and busts, while he was arranging his paint- 
 ings. 
 
 Notwithstanding his prejudice and his private conviction 
 that rich and titled Russians were infallibly fools and imbe- 
 ciles, he got out his studies, raised his curtains, and with 
 eager hand unveiled his masterpiece. 
 
 " Here," he said, stepping back from the easel and beck- 
 oning to the sightseers, " is the Christ before Pilate." 
 (Matthew, chapter xxvii.) He felt his lips tremble with 
 emotion, and he took his place behind his guests. During
 
 478 ANNA KARENINA. 
 
 the few seconds of silence that followed, Mikhai'lof looked 
 at his picture with a sort of indifference, us though he were 
 one of the spectators. In spite of him he expected a su- 
 perior criticism, an infallible judgment, from these three 
 people, whom but a moment before he despised. Forgetting 
 his own opinion as well as the indubitable merits which dur- 
 ing three years had constantly appealed to him, he looked at 
 it now with the cold and critical look of a stranger, and 
 found it full of faults. How far would the politeh' hypocrit- 
 ical remarks which he expected to hear be justified? how 
 much right his guests would have to pity him and ridicule 
 him after they were gone ! 
 
 The silence, which in reality did not last a minute, seemed 
 to him intolerably long, and to abridge it and hide his 
 trouble, he made an effort to address Golennishchef. 
 
 " I think that I have had the honor of meeting you be- 
 fore," said he, glancing anxiously first at Anna, then at 
 Vronsky, so that he might not lose for an instant the chang- 
 ing expression of their faces. 
 
 " Certainly ; we met at Rossi's the evening when that 
 Italian girl, the new Rachel, made a recitation ; don't you 
 remember?" replied Golennishchef, turning away his face 
 without the least show of regret. 
 
 He saw, however, that Mikhai'lof was expecting him to 
 say something about the picture, and he added, 
 
 "Your work has made great progress since the last time 
 I saw it ; and now I am greatly impressed with your Pilate, 
 just as I was then. You have represented a good but feeble 
 man, a tchinovnik to the bottom of his soul, who is ab- 
 solutely blind to the meaning of his action. But it seems 
 to me " 
 
 Mikhai'lof's mobile face lighted up, his eyes gleamed, he 
 wanted to reply ; but his emotion prevented him, and he 
 pretended to have a fit of coughing. This discriminating 
 observation, though it was valueless to him, because he had 
 such a low estimation of Golennishchef 's artistic instinct, 
 filled him with joy. He suddenly conceived a liking for his 
 guest, and suddenly flew from dejection to enthusiasm. 
 Instantly his painting regained in his eyes its meaning so 
 complex and so profound. 
 
 Vronsky and Anna were talking in that low tone of voice 
 peculiar to picture exhibitions, and caused by the desire not 
 to say anything that might give offence, and, more than all,
 
 ANNA KAREXIXA. 479 
 
 not to let any one hear those absurd remarks which are so 
 easily made in regard to art. Mikhtd'lof thought that he 
 heard a favorable criticism on his picture ; and he drew 
 closer to them. 
 
 " What an admirable expression the Christ has," said 
 Anna, thinking that this eulogy could not help being agree- 
 able to the artist, as the Christ was the principal figure in the 
 painting. She added, ''One can see that he pities Pilate." 
 This, again, was one of those million accurate but idle obser- 
 vations which mean so little. The Christ's face, of course, 
 should represent resignation to death, the feeling of absolute 
 disenchantment with the world, a supernatural peace, a sub- 
 lime love, and, in consequence, also pity for his enemies. 
 Pilate, the tchinovnik , should represent the fleshly life in 
 contradistinction to Christ, the pattern of the spiritual life, 
 and therefore have the aspect of a vulgar office-holder ; but, 
 nevertheless, Mikhai'lof s face was radiant with joy. 
 
 ^ Da! And how that figure is painted! One could go 
 round it," said Golennishchef, meaning to show by this 
 observation that he did not approve of the realistic element 
 in the Christ. 
 
 " Yes ; it is a master- work," said Yronsky. " How alive 
 those figures in the background are ! What technique ! " he 
 added, turning to Golennishchef, and alluding to a discussion 
 in which he had avowed his discouragement in the technique 
 of the art. 
 
 "Yes, yes; very remarkable," said Golennishchef and 
 Anna simultaneously. But Yronsky's last remark nettled 
 Mikhai'lof ; he scowled and looked at Vronsky with an angry 
 expression. He did not know what he meant by the word 
 technique. He had often noticed, even in the praises which 
 his work called forth, that technical skill was opposed to the 
 intrinsic merit of a work as though it were possible to paint 
 a bad picture with talent. 
 
 "The only criticism that I should dare 'to make, if you 
 will allow me " 
 
 "Ach! I should be very glad, beg you to favor me," 
 replied Mikhai'lof, smiling without gayety. 
 
 "It is that you have painted a man made God, and not 
 God made man. However, I know that that was your 
 intention." 
 
 " I cannot paint any Christ except the one I comprehend," 
 replied Mikhai'lof gloomily.
 
 480 ANNA KARfiNlNA. 
 
 " In that case, excuse me if I look at it from my own 
 standpoint ; your painting is so beautiful, that this observa- 
 tion can do it no harm. Take Ivanof , for example 
 why does he reduce the Christ to the proportions of an 
 historical figure ? He would do better to choose a new 
 theme less hackneyed." 
 
 " But suppose this theme is the grandest of all for art?" 
 
 " By searching, one might be found just as grand. Art, 
 in my estimation, cannot suffer discussion ; now this ques- 
 tion is raised by Ivanof's painting : Is that God, or not God? 
 and thus the unity of the impression is destroyed." 
 
 "Why so? It seems to me that this question can no 
 longer be asked by enlightened men," replied Mikliai'lof. 
 
 Golennishchef was not of this opinion ; and, full of his 
 idea, drew the painter into a discussion in which he could 
 not defend himself. 
 
 XII. 
 
 ANNA and Vronsky, wearying of their friend's learned 
 loquacity, exchanged glances. Finally they left the two 
 men to their discussion, and went to make a further ex- 
 amination of the studio. They stopped before a small 
 painting. 
 
 "Ach! How charming! What a gem!" said both of 
 them at once. 
 
 "What pleases them so?" thought Mikhailof. He had 
 completely forgotten this picture, painted three years before. 
 When once he had painted a picture, he no longer cared to 
 see it, and he had brought this one out only because an 
 Englishman had thought of purchasing it. 
 
 " That is nothing," he said " only an old study." 
 
 "But it is capital," replied Golennishchef very honestly, 
 falling under the charm of the painting. 
 
 Two children "were fishing under the shade of a labur- 
 num. The elder, all absorbed, was cautiously pulling his 
 line from the water. The younger, lying in the grass, leaning 
 his blond, frowsly head on his hand, was gazing at the water, 
 with great, pensive eyes. What was he thinking about? 
 
 The enthusiasm caused by this study brought back some- 
 what of Mikhai'lof's first emotion ; but he did not love the 
 vain memories of the past, and he preferred to take his 
 guests to a third painting. But Vronsky angered him
 
 ANNA KARENINA. 481 
 
 by asking if the painting was for sale ; the question of 
 money seemed to him to be in bad taste, and he frowned as 
 he replied, 
 
 " It was put up for sale." 
 
 After his visitors had gone, Mikhailof sat down before his 
 painting of Christ and Pilate, and mentally reviewed all that 
 had been said and understood by them. And how strange ! 
 the observations which seemed so weighty when they were 
 present, and when he put himself on their plane, now lost all 
 significance. As he examined his work with his artist's eye 
 he regained his full conviction of its perfection and its lofty 
 value, and he therefore again felt the disposition of mind 
 necessary for the continuance of his work. 
 
 The foreshortening in the log of the Christ was not quite 
 correct. He seized his palette, and while he was correcting 
 it, looked long at the head of John, which seemed to him to 
 show the highest degree of perfection and his visitors had 
 not even noticed it. He tried to give this also a few touches ; 
 but to work well he must be less excited and reach the right 
 medium between indifference and exultation. At this 
 moment he was agitated. He started to cover the canvas. 
 Then he stopped, and, lifting the drapery with one hand, he 
 smiled ecstatically at his St. John. At last, tearing himself 
 from his contemplation, he let the curtain fall, and went 
 home, weary but happy. 
 
 Vronsky, Anna, and Golennishchef, returning to the 
 pnlazzo, were very lively and gay. They talked about Mik- 
 hailof and his paintings. The word talent was often heard 
 as the}* talked ; they meant by it not onby an inner gift, 
 almost physical, independent of spirit and heart, but also 
 something more extended, the real meaning of which escaped 
 them. 
 
 " Talent," they said, "he certainly has, but this talent is 
 not sufficiently developed, because he lacks intellectual cul- 
 ture, a fault common to all Russian artists." 
 
 But the painting of the two boys appealed to their tastes, 
 and again and again they recurred to it. " How charming ! 
 How natural and how simple ! And he did not realize how 
 good it was. Da ! I must not fail to buy it," said Vronsky.
 
 482 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 MIKHAILOF sold Vronsky the little picture, and also de- 
 cided to paiiit Anna's portrait. He came on the appointed 
 da}' and began his work, which even on the fifth sitting 
 struck Vronsky by its resemblance and by its very delicate 
 feeling for the beauty of his subject. 
 
 'One must know her and love her as I love her, to 
 get her gentle and spiritual expression," thought Vronsky ; 
 and yet he found in Mikhailof s portrait exactly that very 
 expression. 
 
 "I have been struggling so long and never get ahead," 
 said Vronsky, referring to his portrait of Anna, " and he has 
 only to look at her to paint her. That is what I call know- 
 ing one's profession." 
 
 ''That will come," said Golenuishchef, to console him, for 
 in his eyes Vronsky had talent, and, moreover, had a train- 
 ing which ought to wake in him the feeling for art. But 
 Golennishchef's convictions in this regard were corroborated 
 by the need that he felt for Vrousky to praise him and sym- 
 pathize with him in his own work : it was a fair exchange. 
 
 In the house of strangers, and especially in Vronsky's 
 palazzo, Mikhailof was an entirely different man from what 
 he was at home and in his studio. He showed himself 
 respectful almost to affectation, as though he were anxious 
 to avoid all intimac}* with people whom at heart he did not 
 regard. He always called Vronsky "Your Excellency " [vdshe 
 sidtelstvo~\ ; and in spite of Vronsky's and Anna's repeated 
 invitations, he never would stay to dinner or come except at 
 the hours for the sitting. Anna was even more genial to 
 him than to the others ; Vronsky was more than polite to 
 him, and was anxious for his criticism on his paintings ; 
 Goleunishchef never lost an opportunity of inculcating sound 
 theories of art : still Mikhailof kept his distance. But Anna 
 felt that he liked to look at her even though he avoided all 
 conversation with her. When Vronsky desired his opinion 
 on his work, he remained obstinatelv silent, and looked at the 
 pictures without ever a word, and he took no pains to conceal 
 the weariness which Golennishchef's sermons caused him. 
 
 This mute hostility produced a painful impression, and 
 relief was felt by all when the sittings were over, and Mikhai- 
 lof, having completed an admirable portrait, ceased to come
 
 ANNA K ARE NINA. 483 
 
 to the palazzo. Goleunishchef was the first to express a 
 thought which all had been thinking, that the painter was 
 envious of Vronsky. 
 
 "What makes him furious is to see a wealthy man, of 
 high position, a count, and apparently they are all vexed at 
 that, reaching without trouble the skill to paint as well, 
 if not better, than he. 'He has devoted his liie to painting, 
 but you have a mental culture which people like Mikhai'lof 
 never succeed in attaining." 
 
 Vronsky, though he took the painter's part, felt at heart 
 that his friend was right ; for it seemed to him extremely nat- 
 ural that a man in an inferior position should env}' him. 
 
 The two portraits of Anna might have shown him the dif- 
 ference between him and Mikhai'lof. It was only after 
 Mikhai'lof's portrait was done, that he began to see it. He 
 felt it sufficiently to lay his own aside, saying that it was a 
 superfluity ; and he devoted himself wholly to his mediseval 
 painting. He himself and Golennishchef and Anna espe- 
 cially felt that it was good, because it resembled, more than 
 all that Mikhai'lof did, the works of the old masters. 
 
 Mikhai'lof, meantime, in spite of the pleasure which he 
 took in doing Anna's portrait, was glad to be freed from 
 Goleunishchef's discourses and Vronsky's paintings. Of 
 course, it was impossible to prevent Vronsky from amusing 
 himself, he and all other dilettante having unfortunately the 
 right to paint as much as they please ; but he suffered in con- 
 sequence of this amateurish occupation. No one can prevent 
 a man from making for himself a big wax doll and kissing it ; 
 but if this man takes his doll and sits in the presence of 
 lovers and makes his caresses before them, then it becomes 
 unpleasant to the lover. Vronsky's painting produced on 
 him a similar feeling ; it was ridiculous, and disgusting, and 
 pitiable, and vexatious. 
 
 Vronsky's enthusiasm for painting and the middle ages 
 was, however, of short duration ; his art instinct was strong 
 enough to prevent him from finishing his painting, and he 
 recognized sadly, that his faults, at first apparently trifling, 
 grew more and more grievous as he went on. He was like 
 Golennishchef, who willingly nurtured himself on illusions, 
 and imagined that he was collecting materials, and storing 
 up ripened thoughts, because he felt that there was a void in 
 his mind. But while Golennishchef grew bitter and irritable, 
 Vronsky remained perfectly calm : incapable of self-decep-
 
 484 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 tion, he simply gave up his painting, with his habitual deci- 
 sion of character, without seeking to justify himself or to 
 offer explanations. 
 
 But, without this occupation, life in this little Italian city 
 quickly became intolerable ; the palazzo suddenly appeared 
 old and dirty ; the spots on the curtains assumed a sordid 
 aspect ; the cracks in the mosaics, the bi'oken stucco of 
 the cornices, the eternal Golennishchef , the Italian professor, 
 and the German tourist, all became unspeakably wearisome. 
 Anna was surprised by this abrupt disenchantment, but 
 willingly consented to return to Russia to live in the country. 
 Vronsky wanted to pass through Petersburg to make business 
 arrangements with his brother, and Anna was anxious to see 
 her son. They decided to spend the summer on Vronsky's 
 large patrimonial estate. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 LEVIN had been married three months. He was happy, 
 but in a different way from what he had anticipated ; and, 
 notwithstanding certain unlooked-for delights, he was met at 
 every step with some new disenchantment. Married life 
 was utterly different from his dreams. He seemed like a 
 man who has been charmed with the graceful and joyful 
 motion of a boat on the sea, and afterwards finds himself in 
 the boat. He felt the difference between simple contempla- 
 tion and action. It was not enough to sit still and not 
 rock ; it was necessary to be on the lookout, never for a 
 moment forgetful of the course, to think of the water under 
 his feet, to direct the sailors, and not alone to look on, but 
 to work, and with unskilful hands move the heavy oars. 
 
 In other days, when still a bachelor, he often laughed in his 
 sleeve at the little miseries of conjugal life, quarrels, jeal- 
 ousies, vexatious details : never should any such thing 
 happen in his future married life, never should his private 
 life resemble that of others. But now, lo and behold ! all 
 these same petty tribulations reappeared, and, in spite of 
 him, assumed an extraordinary and irrefutable importance. 
 
 Like all men, Levin had expected to find in marriage the 
 satisfaction of his love, without the admixture of any prosaic 
 details ; love was to give him rest after labor ; his wife was 
 to be his love, and that was all. Like all men, he absolutely 
 forgot that she too had to work. His surprise was great to
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 485 
 
 find this charming and poetic Kitty, even in the first days of 
 their married lile, thinking, planning, taking charge of the 
 linen, the furniture, the mattresses, the table service, the 
 kitchen. The decided way in which she refused to travel, 
 so that they might come immediately to their country home, 
 and her willingness to let it be known that she knew some- 
 thing about domestic economy, and could think of such 
 things in spite of her love, had struck him even during their 
 engagement. It vexed him then, and now he felt still more 
 vexed to find that she cared for these wearisome minutiae 
 and the material sides of life. But he saw that it was 
 unavoidable ; he bantered her on the subject. 
 
 Yet, in spite of her occupations, he loved her, and was 
 amused to see her presiding over the arrangement of the 
 new furniture which came from Moscow, hanging curtains, 
 providing for the guest-rooms and the rooms that Dolly 
 would have, directing the new chamber-maid and the old 
 cook, discussing with Agaf} - a Mikhai'lovna, whom she re- 
 moved from the charge of the provisions. The old cook 
 smiled gently as he received fantastic orders, impossible to 
 execute ; Agafya Mikhai'lovna shook her head pensively at 
 the new measures introduced by her young bandna. Levin 
 looked on, and thought her wonderfully charming when she 
 came to him, half laughing, half crying, to complain because 
 her maid, Masha, insisted on treating her like a child, and 
 no one took her seriously. It all seemed to him charming, 
 but strange. 
 
 He could not comprehend the sense of metamorphosis 
 which she felt at finding herself the mistress, obliged to 
 see to the preparation of cauliflower and kvas, or confec- 
 tions, to spend and to command as she pleased, after having 
 always had her parents to restrain her fancies. 
 
 She was now making joyful preparations for the arrival 
 of Dolly and the children, and was thinking of the pies 
 which she would have made for them. The details of house- 
 keeping had an irresistible attraction for her, and, as though 
 she foresaw evil days to come, she instinctively prepared her 
 little nest ngainst the approaching spring. 
 
 This zeal for trifles, so entirely opposed to Levin's lofty 
 ideal of happiness, seemed to him one of his lost illusions, 
 while this same activity, the meaning of which escaped him, 
 but which he could not see without pleasure, seemed to him 
 a new delight.
 
 486 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 The quarrels were also a surprise. Never had it entered 
 into Levin's head that between him and his wile there could 
 be any relations other than those of gentleness, respect, ten- 
 derness ; and here, even in their honeymoon, they were dis- 
 puting ! Kitty declared that he was selfish, and burst into 
 tears and wrung her hands. 
 
 The first of these little differences arose in consequence of 
 a ride that Levin took to see a new farm ; he stayed half an 
 hour longer than he had said, having missed his way in trying 
 to come home by a shorter road. As he approached the 
 house, Kitty occupied his thought to the exclusion of every- 
 thing else, and as he galloped along, his heart was on fire at 
 the idea of his happiness, of his love for his wife. He hur- 
 ried into the drawing-room in a state of mind somewhat like 
 that which he had experienced on the day that he became 
 engaged. An angry expression, such as he had never seen 
 in her face, received him. He went to kiss her ; she pushed 
 him away. 
 
 "What is the matter?" 
 
 "You've been having a good time," she began, wishing 
 to show herself cold and bitter. 
 
 But hardly had she opened her mouth when the ridiculous 
 jealousy, which had been tormenting her while she sat on the 
 window-seat during his absence, broke out in a torrent of 
 angry words. 
 
 He then began for the first time to understand clearly 
 what before he had seen only confusedly, when after the 
 crowning they went out of the church. He saw that she 
 was not only near to him, but that he did not know at all 
 where his own personality began or her personality ended. 
 He felt a painful sensation of internal division. Never had 
 such an impression come to him so clearly. He was vexed 
 at first, but in a second he perceived he must not vex her. 
 He wanted to exonerate himself, and show Kitty how wrong 
 she was ; his natural temptation was to cast the blame on 
 her, but then he would have irritated her still more and in- 
 creased their unhappiness. To remain under the shadow of 
 an injustice was cruel, to irritate her under the pretext of a 
 justification was still more blameworthy. Like a man half 
 asleep who struggles to free himself from some terrible pain, 
 and on waking finds that the pain is in himself, he recognized 
 that, patience was the only remedy. 
 . Reconciliation quickly followed. Kitty, though she did
 
 487 
 
 not confess it, felt herself in the wrong, and was more than 
 ever tender to him, so that they felt that their love was 
 doubled. 
 
 Unhappily, these differences kept constantly rising, often 
 from causes as idle as they were unexpected, and because 
 they were still ignorant of what was indispensable for each. 
 These first months were trying ; neither of them was in a 
 natural state of mind, and the most childish things were suf- 
 ficient to provoke misunderstandings, the causes of which 
 they quickly forgot. Each of them pulled in contrary ways 
 on the chain that bound them, and this honeymoon, from 
 which Levin expected such wonders, left them in reality 
 only painful memories. Both of them afterwards tried to 
 blot from their memories the thousand unfortunate, but almost 
 ludicrous, incidents of this period, during which they so 
 rarely found themselves in a normal state of mind. 
 
 Life became better regulated only after their return from 
 Moscow, where they made a short visit in the third mouth 
 after the wedding. 
 
 XV. 
 
 THEY were just back from Moscow, and enjoyed their soli- 
 tude. Levin was sitting at his library-table, writing ; Kitty, 
 dressed in a dark-violet dress, which she had worn in the 
 first days of their marriage, and which Levin had always 
 liked, was making broderie anglaise (English embroidery) 
 as she sat on the great leather divan which ever since the 
 days of Levin's father and grandfather had stood in the 
 library. 
 
 Levin enjoyed her presence while he was writing and 
 thinking. His investigations and his labors and his books, 
 through which he was trying to evolve his new method of 
 conducting his estate, were not given up ; but just as they 
 seemed to him small and useless in those unhappy days when 
 his life was overshadowed, so now in the full light of joy he 
 found them significant. 
 
 In former days this occupation seemed like the salvation 
 of his life ; in former days he felt that without it life would 
 be altogether gloomy ; now these occupations were necessary 
 in order that his life might not be too monotonously bright. 
 As he read over what he had written, Levin felt a joyous 
 realization that it was valuable in spite of some exaggerated
 
 488 ANXA KARtiNINA. 
 
 notions, and he began to fill in mam- gaps as he got a new 
 conception of the question. He now wrote a new chapter, 
 in which he treated of the unfavorable conditions under Avhich 
 Russian agriculture suffered. The poverty of the country, in 
 his estimation, was not caused entirely by the unequal distri- 
 bution of the land property and false economical tendencies, 
 but rather to a premature introduction of European civiliza- 
 tion : railroads, constructed, not by reason of actual neces- 
 sity, but from political motives, produced an exaggerated 
 centralization in the cities ; the development of luxury, and 
 consequently the creation of new industries at the expense 
 of agriculture, an extraordinary extension of the credit sys- 
 tem and its concomitant, stock speculation. It seemed to 
 him that the normal increase in the riches of the country 
 admitted these signs of exterior civilization only when the 
 cultivation of the land had attained a proportional develop- 
 ment. 
 
 While Levin was writing, Kitty was thinking of her hus- 
 band's unnatural behavior on the evening before they left 
 Moscow towards the young Prince Tcharsky, who, with 
 remarkable lack of tact, had made love to her. " He is 
 jealous," she said to herself. " Bozlie tnoi! how good and 
 stupid he is ! To be jealous of me ! If he only knew what 
 an effect on me they all have ! exactly the same as Piotr the 
 cook !" And she glanced with a strange feeling of proprie- 
 torship at the back of her husband's head and his strong 
 neck. 
 
 " It is a shame to interrupt him, but he has plenty of 
 time. I must see his face ; will he feel how I am looking at 
 him? I will will for him to turn round, Nu . . ." And 
 she opened her eyes as wide as she could, as if to concentrate 
 more strength into her gaze. 
 
 "Da/ they attract all the best sap and give a false appear- 
 ance of wealth," murmured Levin, dropping his pen as he 
 felt his wife's eyes fixed on him. He turned around. 
 
 " AVhat is it? " he asked, smiling. 
 
 " He did turn round," she thought. 
 
 " Nothing; I only willed to make you turn around," and 
 she looked at him as if to fathom whether he was vexed 
 because he had been disturbed. 
 
 " Nu! How good it is to be alone together ! For me, at 
 least," said he, getting up, radiant with joy, and going out 
 to where she sat.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 489 
 
 " I am so happy here ! I never, never, waut to go away 
 again, especially not to Moscow." 
 
 " But what were you thinking about?" 
 
 "I? I was thinking no, no; go on with your writing! 
 don't let your mind be distracted," she replied, pouting. "I 
 must cut all these oeilletholes now; do you see?" And she 
 took her scissors and began to snip. 
 
 "No ; tell me what you were thinking about ! " he insisted, 
 sitting down near her, and following all the movements of 
 her little scissors. 
 
 " Ach! What was I thinking about? About Moscow and 
 the nape of thy neck ! " 
 
 " What have I done to deserve this great happiness? It 
 is supernatural. It is too good," said he, kissing her hand. 
 
 " The happier I am, the more natural I find it ! " 
 
 "You have a little pigtail," he said, turning her head 
 around carefully. 
 
 "A pigtail? let it be. We must think about serious 
 things." 
 
 But the serious things were interrupted ; and, when Kuzma 
 came to announce tea, they separated as though they were 
 guilty. 
 
 "Have they come from town?" asked Levin of Kuzma. 
 
 "Just come, everything was sold all right." 
 
 " Come as quickly as you can," said Kitty, going from 
 the library. 
 
 Levin, left alone, shut up his books and papers in a new 
 portfolio, bought by his wife, washed his hands in an elegant 
 new washbasin, also bought by her, and, smiling at his 
 thoughts, raised his head with a feeling that resembled 
 remorse. His life had become too indolent, too spoiled. It 
 was a life of a Capuan, and he felt ashamed of it. "To 
 live so is not good," he thought. " Here, for three months, 
 I have not done a thing ! To-day, for the first time, I have 
 set about anything seriously, and I have hardly begun before 
 I give up. I even neglect my ordinary occupations. I don't 
 watch the men. I don't go anywhere. Sometimes I am 
 sorry to leave her ; sometimes I fear that she will get lonely ; 
 I who believed that existence before marriage counted for 
 nothing, and only began after marriage ! And here, for 
 three months, I have been spending my time in absolute idle- 
 ness. This must not go on. It is not her fault, and one 
 could not lay the least blame on her. But I must show firm-
 
 490 ANNA KARENINA. 
 
 ness, and preserve my manly independence ; otherwise, I 
 sluill get into confirmed bad habits of course, she is not to 
 blame " 
 
 A discontented man finds it hard not to blame some one 
 or other for his discontent. And so Levin felt with sadness, 
 that if the fault was not his wife's, and he could not lay it 
 to her charge, it was owing to her bringing up. "This 
 durak [fool] of a Tcharsky, for example, I know she 
 wanted to get rid of him ; but she did not know how." 
 
 Then he went on again, 
 
 " Da! Besides, the petty interests of housekeeping she 
 looks out for those, and enjoys them ; besides her toilet and 
 her broderie angluise, nothing seriously interests her. No 
 sympathy in my labors, for my schemes, or for the muzhiks, 
 no taste for reading or music ; and yet she is a good musi- 
 cian. She does absolutely nothing, and yet she is perfectly 
 content." 
 
 Levin, in judging her thus, did not comprehend that his 
 wife was making ready for a time of activity, which would 
 oblige her to be at once wife, mother, mistress of the house 
 (khoza'ika), nurse, teacher. He did not understand that she 
 knew this by intuition, and was preparing for this task, and 
 could not blame herself for these indolent moments, and the 
 enjoyment of love, which made her so happy, while she was 
 slowly building her nest for the future. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 WHEN Levin came upstairs again, he found his wife 
 sitting in front of the new, silver samovar, reading a letter 
 from Dolly, with whom she kept up a brisk correspondence. 
 Agafya Mikhai'lovna, with a cup of tea before her, was 
 cosily ensconced at a small table beside her. 
 
 "You see, your wife [banrina~] has asked me to sit here," 
 said the old women, looking affectionately at Kitty. 
 
 These last words showed Levin that the domestic drama 
 which had been going on between Kitty and Agafya Mik- 
 hai'lovna was at an end. Notwithstanding the chagrin 
 which the latter felt at resigning the reigns of government, 
 Kitty was victorious, and had just made peace with her. 
 
 " Here I have been looking over your letters," said 
 Kitty, handing her husbnnd an illiterate-looking envelope. 
 "I think it is from that woman you know of your
 
 ANNA KA&&NINA. 491 
 
 brother's I have not read it. This is from Doll}* imag- 
 ine it: she has been to take Grisha and Tania to a children's 
 ball at the Sarmatskys's. Tania was dressed like a little 
 marchioness." 
 
 But Levin was not listening. He took the letter of 
 Marya Nikolayevua, his brother's discarded mistress, and 
 read it. This was already the second time that she had 
 written him. In her first letter she told him that Nikolai 
 had sent her away without reason, and she added with touch- 
 ing simplicity, that she asked no assistance though she was 
 reduced to penury, but that the thought of Nikolai Dmitritch 
 was killing her. What would become of him without her, 
 feeble as he was? She begged his brother not to lose him 
 out of his sight. Her second letter was in a different tone. 
 " She said that she had found Nikolai' in Moscow, and had 
 gone with him to a provincial city, where he had received 
 an appointment. There he quarrelled with the chief and 
 immediately started for Moscow ; but having been taken 
 violently ill on the way, he would probably never leave his 
 bed again. " He constantly calls for you, and besides, we 
 have no money," she wrote. 
 
 " Read what Dolly writes about thee," Kitty began; but 
 when she saw her husband's dejected face, she stopped 
 speaking. Then she said, 
 
 " What is it what has happened?" 
 
 " She writes me that Nikolai, my brother, is dying. I 
 must go to him." 
 
 Kitty's face suddenly changed. Dolly, Tania, and all 
 were forgotten. 
 
 ' When shall 3-011 go?" 
 
 To-morrow." 
 
 ' Can I go with thee? " she asked. 
 ' Kitty ! what an idea ! " he replied reproachfully. 
 'Why what an idea?" she exclaimed, vexed to see her 
 proposal received with such bad grace. " Why, pray, should 
 I not go with you? I should not hinder you in any way." 
 
 " I am going because my brother is dying," said Levin. 
 " What can you do?" 
 
 " Whatever yon do." 
 
 " At a time so solemn for me, she thinks only of the dis- 
 comfort of being left alone," said Levin to himself, and this 
 reflexion troubled him. 
 
 "It is impossible," he replied sternly. Agafya Mikhai-
 
 492 AXNA KARENINA. 
 
 lovna, seeing that a quarrel was imminent, put down her 
 cup and went out. Kitty did not even notice it. Her 
 husband's tone wounded her all the more deeply because he 
 evidently did not believe what she said. 
 
 k> I tell you, if you go, I am going too. I shall certainly 
 go with you," said she with angry determination. "I 
 should like to know why it would be impossible. Why did 
 you say that? " 
 
 " Because God knows when or in what place I shall find 
 him, or by what means I shall reach him. You would only 
 hinder me," said he, doing his best to retain his self-control. 
 
 "Not at all. I don't need anything. Where you can 
 go, I can go, too, and" 
 
 " Nu! If it were only because of this woman, with whom 
 you cannot come in contact." 
 
 " Why not? I know nothing about all that, and don't 
 want to know. I know that my husband's brother is dying ; 
 that my husband is going to see him ; and I am going too, 
 because " 
 
 "Kitty! don't be angry! and remember that in such a 
 serious time it is painful for me to have you add to my grief 
 by showing such weakness, the fear of being alone. Nu! 
 If you are lonely, go to Moscow" 
 
 " You always ascribe to me that I have such miserable 
 sentiments," she cried, choking with tears of vexation. " I 
 am not so weak ... I know that it is my duty to be with 
 my husband when he is in sorrow, and you want to wound 
 me on purpose. You don't want to take me" 
 
 "No ! this is frightful ! to be such a slave ! " cried Levin, 
 rising from the table, no longer able to hide his anger ; at 
 the same instant he perceived that he was doing himself 
 harm. 
 
 " Why, then, did you get married ? You might have been 
 free. Why if you repent already?" and Kitty fled 
 from the room. 
 
 When he went to find her, she was sobbing. 
 
 He began to speak, striving to find words not to persuade 
 her. but to calm her. She would not listen, and did not allow 
 one of his arguments. He bent over her, took one of her re- 
 calcitrant hands, kissed it, kissed her hair, and then her 
 hands again ; but still she refused to speak. But when, at 
 length, he took her head between his two hands and called 
 her " Kitty," she softly wept, and the reconciliation was 
 complete.
 
 AXXA KAlttiXINA. 493 
 
 It was decided that they should go together on the next 
 day. Levin declared that he was satisfied that she wished 
 nothing but to be useful, and that there was nothing unpleas- 
 ant in Marys Nikolayevua's presence with his brother ; but at 
 the bottom of his heart he was angry, and he was angry with 
 his wife. Strange ! he who had not been able to believe in 
 the possibility of such a joy as her loving him, now felt 
 almost unhappy because she loved him too well. Disgusted 
 at his own weakness, he felt shocked to think of the inevita- 
 ble acquaintance between his wife and his brother's mistress. 
 The thought of seeing them together in the same room filled 
 him with horror and repulsion. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE provincial inn where Nikolai Levin was dying was 
 one of those establishments of recent construction pretending 
 to offer neatness, comfort, and even elegance, to a public 
 little accustomed to these modern refinements. But the same 
 public had caused it to degenerate into an ill-kept grog-shop. 
 Everything about it produced an unpleasant ett'ect on Levin's 
 mind, the soldier in dirty uniform, who served as Swiss, 
 and was smoking a cigarette in the vestibule ; melancholy, 
 dark, cast-iron staircase; the lazy waiter in black coat cov- 
 ered with grease-spots ; the common diuing-table decorated 
 with a frightful bouquet of wax flowers gray with dust ; the 
 general condition of disorder and discomfort; even the abun- 
 dant liveliness, which seemed to him entirely in keeping with 
 the spirit introduced by the new railroad. The whole estab- 
 lishment was in absolute contrast to their recent happiness, 
 and it gave them the most painful impression when they 
 thought of what was waiting for them. 
 
 They found that the best rooms were taken, one b}- the 
 supervisor of the railroad, another by a Muscovite lawyer, 
 the third by Princess Astavyeva from the country. One dis- 
 orderly bed-room was left for them, with the promise of an- 
 other when evening came. Levin took his wife to it, vexed 
 to find his prognostications so speedily realized, and impatient 
 because lie was obliged to get settled instead of hurrying to 
 his brother. 
 
 "Go, go!" said Kitty, with a melancholy look of con- 
 trition. 
 
 He left her without saying a word, and just outside the
 
 494 ANNA KARENINA. 
 
 door he ran against Mary a Nikolayevna, who had just heard 
 of liis arrival. She had not changed since he last saw her in 
 Moscow. She wore the same woolen dress, without collar or 
 cuffs, and her pock-marked face expressed the same unfailing 
 good nature. 
 
 " Nu! How is he?" 
 
 " Very bad. He doesn't sit up, and he is all the time 
 asking for you. You she Is your wife with you?" 
 
 Levin at first did not see why she seemed confused ; but 
 she immediately explained herself. 
 
 " I am going to the kitchen ; he will be glad ; he remem- 
 bers seeing her abroad." 
 
 Levin perceived that she meant his wife, and did not 
 know what to say. "Come," said he, "come." 
 
 But they had not gone a step, before the chamber door 
 opened and Kitty appeared. Levin grew red with vexation 
 to see his wife in such a predicament ; but Marya Nikolayevna 
 was still more confused, and crouching back against the wall 
 ready to cry, she caught the ends of her apron and wound it 
 around her red hands, not knowing what to say or to do. 
 
 Levin saw the expression of lively curiosity in the look 
 with which Kitty regarded this creature, so incomprehensible 
 and almost terrible to her ; it lasted but a moment. 
 
 " Nu! what is it? how is he?" she asked, turning to her 
 husband, and then to the woman. 
 
 "Z)a/ we cannot stay to talk in the corridor," replied 
 Levin, looking angrily at his wife, who with quick steps 
 had now come out into the hall-way. 
 
 " Nu! come into the room then," said Kitty, addressing 
 Marya Nikolayevna, who was beginning to beat a retreat ; 
 then seeing her husband's horror-stricken face, she added, as 
 she turned back to the room, " Or rather go go, and send 
 after me." 
 
 Levin hastened to his brother. 
 
 He expected to find him in that state of illusion so common 
 to consumptives, and which had so struck him during his 
 visit. He expected to see him looking still more emaciated 
 and feeble than before, with the indications of approaching 
 death. He expected that he should be moved with pity for 
 this well-beloved brother, and should feel again, even 
 stronger than before, the terrors which the thought of his 
 death had caused for him. He was quite prepared for all 
 this. But what he saw was absolutely different.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 495 
 
 In a little, close, clingy, ill-smelling room, the walls of 
 which were marked by the bad usage of many travellers, 
 separated by a thin partition from another room, where con- 
 versation was going on, he saw lying on a wretched bed a 
 body lightly covered with a counterpane. Stretched out 
 upon it was a hand huge as a rake, and holding in a strange 
 way by the end a sort of long and slender bobbin. The 
 head, resting on the pillow, showed the thin hair glued to his 
 temples, and an almost transparent brow. 
 
 " Can it be that this horrible body is my brother Nikolai'?" 
 thought Levin; but as he came near, the doubt ceased. It 
 was enough to glance at the lively eyes turned towards him 
 as he entered, or the motions of his mouth under the long 
 moustache, to recognize the frightful truth that this corpse 
 indeed was his brother. 
 
 Nikolai looked at his brother with a stern and angry face. 
 His look seemed to bring living relations between living 
 beings. Koustantin felt in it a reproach for his own health, 
 and a regret. 
 
 He took his brother's hand. Nikolai smiled ; but the smile 
 was so slight and feeble that it did not change the expression 
 of his eyes. 
 
 " You did not expect to find me so," he succeeded in 
 saying. 
 
 "Yes no," replied Levin, with confusion. "Why 
 didn't you let me know sooner, before my marriage? I had 
 a regular search to find you." 
 
 He wanted to keep on speaking, so as to avoid a painful 
 silence ; but he did not know what to say, the more as his 
 brother looked at him without replying, and seemed to be 
 weighing each one of his words. Finally he told him that 
 his wife had come with him, and Nikolai appeared delighted, 
 adding, however, that he was afraid he should frighten her. 
 A silence followed ; suddenly Nikolai began to speak, and 
 Levin felt by the expression of his face that he had some- 
 thing of importance to tell him, but he spoke only of his 
 health. He blamed his doctor, and regretted that he could 
 not have consulted a celebrity in Moscow. Levin perceived 
 that he still was hopeful. 
 
 After a moment Levin got up. with the pretext that he was 
 going to get his wife, but in reality to tear himself away, for 
 a little while at least, from these cruel impressions. 
 
 "Nu! good! I will have things put in order here. It is
 
 496 ANNA KARBNINA. 
 
 dirty here and smells bad ; I guess Masha attended to things," 
 said the sick man, with effort. 'Da! and when you have put 
 things to rights, go away," he added, looking at his brother 
 questioningly. 
 
 Levin went out without replying ; but he had scarcely 
 reached the corridor, when he began to repent of having 
 promised to bring his wife ; thinking of what he himself had 
 suffered, he made up his mind to persuade her that this visit 
 was unnecessary. " Why torment her as I am tormented?" 
 he asked himself. 
 
 " Nu, how is it? " asked Kitty, with frightened face. 
 
 " Ach ! it is horrible, horrible ! Why did you come ? " Kitty 
 looked at her husband for an instant without speaking ; then 
 going to him she put both hands on his arm. She said tim- 
 idly, " Kostia, take me to him ; it will be easier for both of 
 us. Take me and leave me with him ; can't you see that it 
 is more cruel to me than anything else to witness your grief 
 and not see the cause of it? Perhaps I shall be useful to him, 
 and to you also. I beg of you. let me go." She besought 
 him as though it were for the happiness of her life, and Levin 
 was obliged to let her go with him. 
 
 In his haste he completely forgot all about Marya Nikolay- 
 evna. 
 
 Kitty, walking lightly and showing her husband a coura- 
 geous and affectionate face, stepped quietly into the room 
 and shut the door noiselessly. She went with light, quick 
 steps up to the bed, and sat down so as not to make the sick 
 man turn his head, and with her fresh, soft hand she took the 
 dying man's enormous band, and employing that tact peculiar 
 to women, of showing sympathy without wounding, she 
 began to speak to him with a gentle cheerfulness. 
 
 "We saw each other at Soden without becoming ac- 
 quainted ; you did not think then that I should ever become 
 your sister ? " 
 
 "You would not have known me, would you?" he said; 
 his face was lighted up with a smile when he saw her come in. 
 
 "O yes, indeed. How glad I am that you sent for us! 
 Not a day has passed without Kostia speaking of you. He 
 has been very anxious because he did not hear from you." 
 
 The sick man's animation lasted only a short time. Kitty 
 had not finished speaking, before that expression of severe 
 reproach towards one who is in good health came back to his 
 face.
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA, 497 
 
 "I am afraid that you are not very comfortable here," 
 continued the young woman, avoiding the look which he 
 gave her, and examining the room. 
 
 " We must ask for another room, and be nearer to him," 
 she said to her husband. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 LEVIN could not bear to look at his brother, could not even 
 leel at ease in his presence. When he came into the sick 
 man's room, his eyes and his motions entirely absorbed him, 
 and he did not see and did not realize his frightful situa- 
 tion. 
 
 He was now struck with the uncleanliness'and disorder of 
 the room, and the bad air which oppressed them, and the sick 
 man's groans, and it seemed to him that there was. no hope. 
 ]t did not occur to him to investigate how his poor limbs 
 were lying under the coverlid, to try to comfort him materi- 
 ally, and if he could not improve his condition, at least to 
 make the best of a bad situation. The mere thought of 
 these details made a cold chill run down his back ; and the 
 sick man, feeling instinctively that his brother was powerless 
 to help him, was irritated. So Levin kept leaving the room 
 under various pretexts, and coming back again, unhappy to 
 be with his brother, still more unhappy to be away from him, 
 and unable to stay alone by himself. 
 
 Kitty saw these things under a very different light : as 
 soon as she came near the dying man, she was filled with 
 pity for him, and instead of feeling fear or repulsion, her 
 womanly heart moved her to seek every means of ameliorat- 
 ing his sad condition. Convinced that it was her duty to 
 help him, she did not doubt the possibility of making him 
 more comfortable, and she set herself to work without delay. 
 The details which repelled her husband were the very ones 
 which attracted her attention. She sent for a doctor, she 
 sent to the drug store ; she set her maid and Marya Nikolay- 
 evna to sweeping, washing, and dusting, and she even helped 
 them herself. She had all needless articles carried away, 
 and she had them replaced by things that were needed. 
 Without minding those whom she met on the way, she came 
 and went from her room to her brother-in-law's, unpack- 
 ing the articles that were necessary, cloths, pillow-cases, 
 towels, nightshirts.
 
 498 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 The waiter who served the table d'hdte dinner several times 
 came with surly face when she rang ; but she gave her orders 
 with such gentle authority, that he never failed to execute 
 them. Levin did not approve of all this commotion. He 
 did not see any reason for it, and he was afraid of worrying 
 his brother. But Nikolai remained calm and indifferent, 
 albeit somewhat confused, and followed with his eyes the 
 young woman's movements. 
 
 When Levin came back from the doctor's, he saw, on open- 
 ing the door, that they were changing the sick man's linen. 
 His enormous back and his stooping shoulders, his prominent 
 ribs, were all uncovered, while Mary a Nikolayevna and the 
 maid were in great perplexity over the sleeves of Nikolai's 
 nightshirt, into which they were vainly striving to get his 
 long, thin arms. Kitty quickly closed the door, without 
 looking at her brother-in-law ; but he groaned, and she has- 
 tened to him. 
 
 " Be quick," she said. 
 
 "Da! Don't come near me," muttered the sick man, 
 angrily. " I will put it on myself." 
 
 " What do you say ? " asked Marya. 
 
 But Kitty heard and understood that he was ashamed of 
 being found in such a state. 
 
 " I am not looking," said she, trying to get his arm into 
 the nightshirt. "Marya Nikolayevna, you go to the other 
 side of the bed and help us. Go and get a little flask out of 
 my bag, and bring it to me," she said to her husband. " In 
 the meantime we will finish fixing him." 
 
 When Levin came back with the flask, the invalid was Vying 
 down in bed, and everything about him had assumed a dif- 
 ferent appearance. Instead of the stuffy air which they 
 were breathing before, Kitty was perfuming the room with 
 aromatic vinegar from an atomizer. The dust was all gone ; 
 a carpet was spread under the bed ; on a little table were 
 arranged the medicine vials, a carafe, the necessary linen, 
 and Kitty's English embroidery. On another table, near the 
 bed, stood a candle, his medicine, and powders. The sick 
 man, bathed, with smoothly brushed hair, lying between 
 clean sheets, and propped up by several pillows, was dressed 
 in a clean nightshirt, the white collar of which came around 
 his extraordinarily long, thin neck. A new expression of 
 hope shone in his eyes as he looked at Kitty. 
 
 The doctor whom Levin found at the club was not the one
 
 ANNA KAEENINA. 499 
 
 who had vexed Nikolai'. He came and carefully sounded 
 the sick man's lungs, raised his head, wrote a prescription, 
 a iid gave explicit directions about the applications of his 
 remedies and about his nourishment. He ordered fresh 
 eggs, almost raw, and seltzer water with milk heated to a 
 certain temperature. After he was gone, the sick man said 
 a few words to his brother, only the last words of which 
 were audible: "... your Katva." But by his face Levin 
 knew'that he said something in her praise. Then he called 
 Katya, as he had named her. 
 
 " I feel much better," he said to her. "With you I should 
 get well ; everything is so nice now." 
 
 He tried to lift his sister-in-law's hand to his lips ; but 
 fearing that it might be unpleasant to her, he contented him- 
 self with caressing it. Kitty pressed his hand affectionately 
 between her own. 
 
 " Now turn me over on the left side, and all of you go to 
 bed." Kitty alone understood what he said, because she 
 was near him. 
 
 " Turn him on his side," said she to her husband. " He 
 always sleeps on that side. I cannot do it myself ; and I 
 should not like to leave it to the man. Can }-ou lift him?" 
 she asked of Marya Nikolayevna. 
 
 " I am afraid not," she replied. 
 
 Levin, though terrified at the thought of lifting this fright- 
 ful body under his coverlid, submitted to his wife's influence, 
 and put his arms around the invalid, with that resolute air 
 she knew so well. The great weight of these emaciated 
 limbs surprised him. While he was, with difficulty, changing 
 his brother's position, Nikolai threw his arms around his 
 neck, and Kitty quickly turned the pillows so as to make the 
 bed more comfortable. Nikolai kept one of his brother's hands 
 in his, and drew it towards him. Levin's heart failed him 
 when he felt him put it to his lips to kiss it. He let him do 
 so, however ; then, shaken with sobs, he hurried from the 
 room, without being able to utter a word. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 "HE has hidden it from the wise, and revealed it unto 
 children and fools," thought Levin as he was talking with 
 his wife a little while later. It was not that he meant to 
 compare himself to a wise man, in thus quoting the Gospel.
 
 500 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 He did not call himself wise ; but he could not help feeling 
 that he was more intellectual than his wife and Agaf'ya 
 Mikhaylovna, that he employed all the powers of his soul, 
 when he thought about death. This terrible thought other 
 manly spirits before him had tried to fathom, with all the 
 forces of their intellects. He had read their works ; but 
 they too had not seemed to know one hundredth part as 
 much as his wife and his old nurse, Agalya Mikhaylovua, and 
 Kat} T a, as his brother called her, and he also now began 
 to take pleasure in doing, had, in this respect, a perfect 
 sympathy, though otherwise they were entirely opposite. 
 Both knew, without a particle of doubt, the meaning of life 
 and of death, and though they were of course incapable of 
 answering the questions fermenting in Levin's mind, they 
 had their own way of explaining these great facts of human 
 existence; and they shared 'their belief in this regard with 
 millions of human beings. As a proof of their familiarity 
 with death, they could, without an instant's delay, know 
 what to do for those who were dying, and feel no fear, while 
 Levin and those who like him could spin out long discussions 
 on the theme of death, had no courage, and felt incapa- 
 ble of aiding a dying man. Konstantin Levin, when alone 
 with his brother, would gaze with terror into his face, and, 
 with growing terror, await his end with fear, and be able 
 to think of nothing to do for him. 
 
 The sight of the sick man paralyzed him ; he did not know 
 what to say, how to look or to walk. To speak of indif- 
 ferent things seemed unworthy, impossible ; to speak of 
 melancholy things, of death, was likewise impossible ; to be 
 silent was even worse. " If I look at him, he will think that 
 I am studying him, I fear ; if I do not look at him, he will 
 believe that my thoughts are elsewhere. To walk on tiptoe 
 irritates him, to walk as usual seems brutal." 
 
 Kitty apparently did not think about herself, and she had 
 not the time. Occupied only with the invalid, she seemed 
 to have a clear idea of what to do ; and she succeeded in her 
 endeavor. 
 
 She related the circumstances of their marriage ; she told 
 about herself ; she smiled upon him ; she caressed him ; cited 
 cases of extraordinary cures ; and it was all delightful : she 
 understood how to do it. Levin could not see where she 
 had obtained this inner wisdom. And neither Kitty nor 
 Agafya Mikhaylovna was satisfied with offering physical
 
 ANNA KARNINA. 501 
 
 solace or performing purely material acts : both of them 
 instinctively, vitally, uureasoniugly, turned their attention to 
 the dying man's higher needs. In speaking of the old ser- 
 vant who had lately passed away, Agafya Mikhaylovna said, 
 " Thank God, he had confession and extreme unction ; God 
 grant us all to die likewise." Katya, though she was busy 
 with her care of the linen, the medicines, and the bandages, 
 even on the first day succeeded in persuading her brother- 
 in-law to receive the sacrament. 
 
 When Levin came to their rooms at the end of the day, he 
 sat down with bowed head, confused, not knowing what to 
 do, unable to think of eating his supper, of arranging for the 
 night, of doing anything at all, even talking with his wife. 
 But Kitty showed extraordinary animation. She had supper 
 brought, she herself unpacked tbe trunks, helped undress 
 the beds and even remembered to scatter Persian powder 
 upon them. She felt the same excitement and quickness of 
 thought which men of genius show on the eve of battle, or 
 at those serious and critical moments in their lives when the 
 chance of showing their value presents itself. 
 
 It was not yet twelve o'clock, when everything was neatly 
 and carefully arranged : their two hotel rooms presented 
 the appearance of private apartments ; near Kitty's bed, on 
 a table covered with a white towel, stood her travelling 
 mirror, with her combs and brushes. 
 
 Levin found it unpardonable in himself to eat, to sleep, 
 even to speak ; every motion seemed inappropriate. She, 
 on the contrary, arranged her toilet articles without her 
 activity seeming in the least disturbing or unsuitable. 
 
 Neither of them could eat, however, and they sat long 
 before they could make up their minds to go to bed. 
 
 " I am very glad that I persuaded him to receive extreme 
 unction to-morrow," said Kitty, as she brushed her perfumed 
 hair, before her mirror, in her nightgown. "I never saw it 
 given ; but mamma told me that they repeat prayers for res- 
 toration to health." 
 
 "Do you believe that he can get well?" asked Levin, as 
 he watched the part disappear from her hair, when she took 
 the comb awa^y from her little round head. 
 
 "I asked the doctor; he says that he cannot live more 
 than three days. But what does he know about it? I am 
 glad that I persuaded him," she said, looking at her husband. 
 "All things are possible," she added, with that peculiar,
 
 502 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 almost crafty expression which came over her face when 
 she spoke about religion. 
 
 Never, since the conversation that they had while they 
 were engaged, had they spoken about religion ; but Kitty 
 still continued to go to church and to say her prayers with 
 the calm conviction that she was fulfilling a duty. Notwith- 
 standing the confession, which her husband had felt impelled 
 to make, she firmly believed that he was a good Christian, 
 perhaps better even than herself. He amused himself, pos- 
 sibly, by calling himself an unbeliever, just as he did when 
 he jested about her broderie anglaise. 
 
 "Da! This woman, Marya Nikolayevna, would never have 
 been able to persuade him," said Levin ; " and I must 
 confess that I am very, very glad that you succeeded. You 
 made everything look so neat and comfortable." He took 
 her hand without daring to kiss it ; it seemed to him a 
 profanation even to kiss her hand in the presence of death, 
 but he pressed it, as he looked into her shining eyes with 
 evident contrition. 
 
 "You would have suffered too terribly all alone," she 
 said, as she raised her arms to cover the glow of satisfaction 
 that she felt in her cheeks, and at the same time to coil up 
 her hair and fasten it to the top of her head. " She does 
 not know, but I learned many things at Soden." 
 
 " Were there people there as ill as he is?" 
 
 " Yes ; more so." 
 
 "It is terrible to me not to see him as he used to be 
 when he was a boy. You can't imagine what a handsome 
 fellow he was ; but I did not understand him then." 
 
 " Indeed, indeed, I believe you. I feel that we should 
 have been friends," said she, and she turned toward her 
 husband, frightened at what she had said, and the tears shone 
 in her eyes. 
 
 "Yes, would have been," he said, mournful!}-. "He is 
 one of those men of whom one can say with reason that he 
 was not meant for this world." 
 
 " Meanwhile, we must not forget that we have many days 
 ahead of us ; it is time to go to bed," said Kitty, consult- 
 ing her tiny watch.
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 503 
 
 XX. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 COMMUHION was administered the next morning. Nikolai 
 prayed fervently during the ceremony. Passionate and 
 hopeful entreaty could be read in his great eyes gazing at 
 the sacred image placed on a card-table covered with a 
 colored towel. It was terrible for Levin to look at him 
 so ; for he knew that the pain at tearing himself from life, to 
 which he clung so desperately, would be all the more cruel. 
 He knew his brother and his brother's ideas ; knew that his 
 skepticism was not the result of a desire to abandon religion 
 for the sake of a freer life. His religious beliefs had been 
 shaken by the theories of modern science ; therefore his 
 return to faith was not logical or normal, owing simply to 
 his overmastering desire for recovery ; it could not be any- 
 thing else than temporary and unreal. Kitty had formed this 
 hope by her stories of extraordinary cures. 
 
 Levin was troubled by these thoughts as he looked at his 
 brother's hopeful face, as he saw his difficulty in lifting his 
 emaciated hand to touch his yellowed forehead to make 
 the sign of the cross, and saw his fleshless shoulders, and 
 his hollow, rattling chest, unable longer to contain the life 
 which he was begging to have restored. During the sacra- 
 ment Levin did what he had done a thousand times, skeptic 
 that he was, 
 
 " Heal this man if Thou dost exist," he said, addressing 
 God, " and Thou will save me also." 
 
 The invalid felt suddenly better after the ceremony ; for 
 more than an hour he did not cough once. He assured 
 Kitty, as he kissed her hand with smiles and tears of joy, 
 that he was not suffering, and that he felt a return of 
 strength and appetite. When his broth was brought, he got 
 up by himself and asked for a cutlet. Impossible as his 
 recovery was, Levin and Kitty spent this hour in a kind of 
 timid joy. 
 
 "Is tie not better?" 
 
 " Much better." 
 
 " It is astonishing." 
 
 " Why should it be astonishing? He is certainly better," 
 they whispered, smiling at each other. 
 
 The illusion did not last. After a painful nap of half an
 
 504 ANNA KAfiENINA. 
 
 hour, the invalid was wakened by a terrible spell of cough- 
 ing. The hopes vanished for all, even for the sick man 
 himself. Forgetting his belief of an hour before, and 
 ashamed even to remember it, he asked for a bottle of 
 iodine to breath. 
 
 Levin gave it to him, and his brother looked at it with the 
 same imploring, passionate look which he had given the 
 image, as if to confirm the words of the doctor, who attri- 
 buted miraculous virtues to iodine. 
 
 " Kitty isn't here?" he asked, in his hoarse whisper, when 
 Levin had unwillingly repeated the doctor's words. 
 
 " Non? then I can speak! I played the comedy for her 
 sake. She is so sweet ! But you and I cannot deceive 
 ourselves ! This is what I pin my faith to," said he, press- 
 ing the bottle in his long hands as he smelled of the iodine. 
 
 About eight o'clock in the evening Levin and his wife 
 were taking tea in their room, when Marya Nikolayevmi 
 came running towards them all out of breath. She was 
 pale, and her lips trembled. " He is dying ! " she stammered, 
 " I am afraid that he is dying ! " 
 
 Both of them hurried to Nikolai'. He was sitting up, lean- 
 ing over one side of the bed, his head bowed, his long back 
 bent. 
 
 " How do you feel ? " asked Levin tenderly, after a moment 
 of silence. 
 
 " I feel that I am going," whispered Nikolai, struggling 
 painfully to speak, but as yet pronouncing the words dis- 
 tinctly. Without raising his head he turned his eyes towards 
 his brother, whose face he could no longer see. " Katya, 
 go away ! " he whispered once again. 
 
 Levin led his wife gently from the room. 
 
 " I am going," the dying man whispered once again. 
 
 "Why do you think so?" asked Levin for the sake of 
 saying something. 
 
 " Because I am going," he repeated, as if he had an affec- 
 tion for the phrase. " Jt is the end." 
 
 Marya Nikolayevna came to him. 
 
 " Lie down ; you will feel better." 
 
 " Soon I shall be lying calmly, dead," he whispered with 
 a sort of mournful irony. "Nu! Bury me whenever you 
 please." 
 
 Levin laid his brother down on his back, took a seat near 
 him, and, hardly able to breathe, studied his face. The dy-
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 505 
 
 ing man's eyes were shut, but the muscles of his forehead 
 twitched from time to time as though he were in deep thought. 
 Levin involuntarily tried to unriddle what was passing in the 
 dying man's mind ; this stern face, and the play of the mus- 
 cles above his eyebrows, seemed to show that his brother 
 perceived mysteries hidden from him. 
 
 " Yes yes So," the dying man murmured slowly, 
 with long pauses ; " lay me down ! " Then long silence 
 followed. "So!" said he suddenly, as though all had been 
 explained for him. " O Lord ! " and he sighed heavily. 
 
 Marya Nikolayevna felt of his feet. " The}* are growing 
 cold," she said in a low voice. 
 
 Long the sick man remained motionless ; but he was still 
 alive, and sighed from time to time. Weary from the mental 
 strain, Levin felt that he could not understand what his 
 brother meant to express. He seemed to be fur away from 
 the dying man ; he could no longer think of the mystery of 
 death ; the most incongruous ideas came into his mind. He 
 asked himself what he was going to do ; to close his eyes, 
 dress him, order the coffin ? Strange ! he felt cold and indif- 
 ferent ; the principal feeling that he had was one almost 
 envy : his brother now would know the certainty which lie 
 himself could not approach. 
 
 Long he waited by his bedside, expecting the end : it did 
 not come. The door opened, and Kitty came in. He got 
 up to stop her, but instantly the dying man moved. 
 
 " No, don't go away ! " said Nikolai', stretching out his 
 hand. Levin took it, and angrily motioned his wife away. 
 
 Still holding the dying man's hand, he waited a half-hour 
 an hour and still another hour. He ceased to think of death ; 
 he thought what Kitty was doing. Who could it be that had 
 the next room ? Had the doctor a house of his own ? Then 
 he became hungry and sleepy. He gently let go the dying 
 man's hand and felt of his feet. They were cold ; but still 
 Nikolai' was breathing. Levin tried to stand on his tiptoes ; 
 but again the invalid stirred, and said, " Don't go away ! " 
 
 Morning : the situation was unchanged. Levin gently 
 arose, and without looking at his brother went to his room, 
 threw himself on the bed, and fell asleep. When he awoke, 
 instead of hearing of his brother's death as he expected, he 
 was told that he had come to his senses again. He was sit-
 
 506 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 ting up in bed and wanted something to eat. He no longer 
 spoke of death, but expressed the hope of getting well again, 
 and was more irritable and restless than before. No one, 
 not even his brother or Kitty, could calm him. He blamed 
 every one for his sufferings, demanded that the famous doctor 
 from Moscow should be sent for ; and whenever they asked 
 him how he was, he replied with expressions of anger and 
 reproach, " I am suffering terrible, unendurable agony." 
 
 He suffered more and more, and his irritableness increased. 
 Even Kitty could not control him ; and Leviu saw that she 
 was suffering physically as well as morally, although she 
 would not confess it. The sadness caused by the approach 
 of death was joined with other feelings. All knew that the 
 end was inevitable ; they saw the invalid almost dead, arid 
 they felt that the sooner it came, the better it would be ; yet, 
 still, the}' continued to give medicines, to call the doctor, and 
 try new remedies. But they deceived him and themselves 
 and each other ; and this dissimulation was more painful to 
 Konstantin than to the others, because he loved his brother 
 more deeply, and because nothing was more contrary to his 
 nature than lack of sincerity. 
 
 Levin, who had long felt the desire to reconcile his two 
 brothers before Nikolai should die, wrote to Sergei Ivano- 
 vitch. He replied, and Konstantin read the letter to the sick 
 man : Sergei Ivanovitch could not come, but he asked his 
 brother's pardon in touching terms. 
 
 Nikolai said nothing. 
 
 " What shall I write him? " asked Konstantin. " I hope 
 that you are not angry with him." 
 
 " No, not at all," replied Nikolai, in a tone of vexation. 
 " Write him to send me the doctor." 
 
 Three cruel days passed in this manner, the invalid remain- 
 ing in the same condition. All those who saw him the 
 waiter and the landlord and all the lodgers and the doctor 
 and Marya Nikolayevna and Levin and Kitty wished only 
 one thing, and spoke only of death ; but the invalid alone did 
 not express any such wish, and he continually grumbled be- 
 cause they did not send for the doctor ; and he took his rem- 
 edies and he spoke of life. At rare moments, when he was 
 under the influence of opiates, he would forget his pangs, and 
 in a sort of doze confess what weighed on his mind as well 
 as on the others': "Ach! If this could only end!" or 
 " When this is over."
 
 ANNA KARfiNlNA. 507 
 
 His sufferings, growing ever more and more severe, did 
 their work and prepared him to die. Every movement was 
 a pang ; every member of his poor body caused him pain. 
 The memories, the impressions, and the thoughts of the past 
 were odious to him ; the sight of those who surrounded him, 
 and their talk, were a trial to him. Every one felt it ; no 
 one dared to use any freedom of motion, to express a wish 
 or an idea. Life for all concerned was concentrated in the 
 feeling of the dying man's sufferings, and in an ardent desire 
 to see him freed from them. 
 
 The supreme moment came when death to him seemed de- 
 sirable as a truce to his pains, even as a joy. Everything, 
 hunger, weariness, thirst, these sensations which once after 
 suffering or privation caused him a certain pleasure, were now 
 only painful. He could only hope to be delivered from the 
 very source of his woes, from his tortured body. Without 
 finding words to express this thought, he continued out of 
 habit to ask for what once gave him comfort. " Turn me 
 on the other side," he would say, and then immediately wish 
 to return to his former position. " Give me bouillon! Take 
 it away ! Speak, and don't stay so still ! " and as soon as 
 any one began to speak, he would shut his eyes and show 
 fatigue, indifference, and disgust. 
 
 On the tenth day after their arrival Kitty was taken ill ; 
 and the doctor declared that it was caused by her emotions 
 and weariness. He advised quiet and rest. 
 
 Yet, after dinner, she got up and went as usual with her 
 work to Nikolai's room. He looked at her sternly, and smiled 
 scornfully when she told him that she had been ill. All day 
 long he never ceased to cough and to groan piteously. 
 
 " How do you feel? " she asked. 
 
 "Worse," he replied with difficulty. " I am in pain." 
 
 " Where do you feel the pain ? " 
 
 "All over." 
 
 " You will see it'll be all over to-day," said Marya 
 Nikolayevna in an undertone. 
 
 Levin hushed her, thinking that his brother, whose ear was 
 very acute, might hear ; he turned and looked at him. Nikolai 
 had heard, but the words made no impression ; his look 
 remained as before, reproachful and intense. 
 
 " What makes you think so?" asked Levin, taking her into 
 the corridor. 
 
 " He tries to uncover himself."
 
 508 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " This way," she said, plucking at the folds of her woolen 
 dress. Levin himself noticed that all that day the invalid had 
 been plucking at his bed-clothes as though to uncover 
 himself. 
 
 Marya Nikolayevna's prediction came true. Towards 
 evening Nikolai had not strength enough left to lift his 
 arms, and his motionless eyes assumed an expression of 
 concentrated attention. Even when his brother and Kitty 
 bent over him in order that he might see them, this look 
 remained unchanged. Kitty had the priest summoned to 
 say the prayers for the dying. 
 
 During the ceremony the invalid, by whose bedside stood 
 Konstantin, Kitty, and MaiTa Nikolayevna, gave no sign of 
 life. But before the prayers were ended, he stretched 
 himself a little, sighed, and opened his eyes. The priest, 
 having finished the prayer, placed the crucifix on his icy 
 brow, for a moment or two he stood silently near the bed, 
 then he touched with his fingers the huge bloodless hand of 
 the dying man. 
 
 "It is all over," he said at last, about to go away; then 
 suddenh 7 Nicola'i's lips trembled slightly, and from the depths 
 of his breast came these words, which sounded distinctly in 
 the room, 
 
 " Not yet soon." 
 
 A moment later his face brightened, a smile came to his 
 lips, and the women hastened to perform the last service of 
 his mortal toilet. 
 
 All Levin's horror at the terrible enigma of death was 
 awakened with the same intensity as on that autumn night 
 when his brother came to see him. More than ever he felt 
 his inability to fathom this mystery and the terror, now that 
 he felt it so near to him, and so inevitable. His wife's 
 presence prevented him from falling into despair ; for in 
 spite of his terrors he felt the need of living, and loving. 
 He felt that love alone saved him from despair, and became 
 all the stronger and purer because it was threatened. 
 
 And scarcely had this mystery of death taken place before 
 he found himself face to face with another miracle of love 
 and of life equally unfathomable. 
 
 The doctor told him of Kitty's hopes of maternity.
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 509 
 
 XXI. 
 
 As soon as Kar^nin learned from Betsy and Stepan Arka- 
 dy evitch that every oue, and Aima more than all, expected 
 him to give his wife her freedom, he. felt himself in per- 
 plexity. Unable to make a decision personally, he placed 
 his fate in the hands of the others, glad enough to rid himself 
 of it, and ready to accept anything that might be proposed 
 to him. He did not awake to the reality until the morning 
 after Anna's departure, when the English governess asked 
 if she should dine with him or by herself. 
 
 During the first days after Anna's departure, Alekse"! 
 Aleksandrovitch kept up his audiences, went to Council, dined 
 at home as usual ; all the powers of his mind had only one 
 aim, to appear calm and indifferent. He made superhuman 
 efforts to answer the questions of the servants in regard to 
 what should be done about Anna's rooms and her things, and 
 to show the manner of a man prepared for whatever hap- 
 pened, and who saw nothing extraordinary in it. Two days 
 he succeeded in hiding his pain, but on the third, when 
 Kerne"! handed him a bill from the milliner's shops, which 
 Anna had forgotten to pay, and told him that the messenger 
 was there, Aleksei had him introduced. 
 
 "Your Excellency will please excuse us," said the messen- 
 ger, ' and give us Madam's address, if it be to her that we 
 must write." 
 
 Aleksei Aleksaudrovitch appeared to be cogitating, then 
 suddenly turning round, he sat down near the table ; for some 
 time he sat there, his head resting on his hand, trying in vain 
 to speak. 
 
 Kornei understood his master, and told the messenger to 
 come another time. Left alone, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 
 felt that he had no longer the power to keep up the show of 
 firmness and ease ; he sent away his carriage, which was 
 waiting for him, refused to see visitors, and no longer went 
 out to dine. 
 
 He felt that he could not endure the disdain and hardness 
 which he clearly read on the faces of the messenger, of his 
 servants, of all whom he met, without exception. If he had 
 deserved this public detestation by blameworthy conduct, he 
 might have hoped to regain the esteem of the world by im- 
 provement in conduct : but he was not to blame ; he was
 
 510 ANNA KARENINA. 
 
 unhappy, and with an unhappiness that was odious and 
 shameful. He knew that it was precisely for the reason that 
 his heart was torn that they would be pitiless to him. It 
 seemed to him that his fellow-men persecuted him as dogs 
 torture to death some poor cur maimed and howling with 
 pain. He knew that the only safety -from men was to hide 
 his wounds ; but two days of struggle had already used up his 
 energies. 
 
 His despair was made deeper by the knowledge that he 
 was absolutely alone with his suffering. In all Petersburg 
 there was not a man to whom he could confide all his wretch- 
 edness, not one who would have any pity for him now, not 
 as a lofty tchinovnik or a member of society, but simply as a 
 human being in despair. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch had lost his mother when he was 
 ten years old ; he had no remembrance of his father ; he and 
 his one brother were left orphans with a very small inheri- 
 tance ; their uncle Kareniu, a man of influence, held in high 
 esteem by the late emperor, took charge of their bringing up. 
 
 After a successful course at the gymnasium and the 
 university. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, through his uncle's aid, 
 made a brilliant start in official life, and burning with ambi- 
 tion, devoted himself exclusively to his career. He formed 
 no ties of intimacy either in the gymnasium or the university, 
 or afterward in society ; his brother alone was dear to him, 
 but he entered the department of foreign affairs, and died 
 abroad soon after Aleksei Aleksandrovitch' s marriage. 
 
 While Karenin was governor of one of the provinces, 
 Anna's aunt, a very wealthy bartiina, introduced her niece to 
 this governor, who was young for such a position, if not in 
 years, and she forced him to the alternative of getting mar- 
 ried or leaving the city. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch long hesi- 
 tated. There seemed as many reasons against marriage as 
 in its favor, but he could not in the present case apply his 
 favorite maxim, " when in doubt, don't." Anna's aunt sent 
 word to him through a friend that his attentions had compro- 
 mised the young lady, and that as a man of honor he must 
 offer her his hand. He offered himself, and gave her, first as 
 fiancee, afterwards as wife, all the affection which it was in 
 his power to show. 
 
 This attachment prevented him from feeling the need of 
 any other intimacy. And now out of all the number of his 
 acquaintances he had not one friend. His position was sue h
 
 ANXA KARtfNINA. 511 
 
 that he could invite great personages to dinner, ask favors of 
 them in the interests of his pumic capacity or protection for 
 some petition ; he could even discuss and freely criticize the 
 actions of other people and have a certain number of listen- 
 ers, but his relations of cordiality with these people were 
 exclusively confined to this official domain, from which it 
 was impossible to escape. There was one university profes- 
 sor with whom he felt well acquainted, and to whom he 
 would have been willing to speak of his private sorrows, but 
 this professor happened to be away. Of all the people in 
 Petersburg the nearest and most practicable acquaintances 
 were his chief secretary and his doctor. 
 
 Mikhail Basilic vitch Sliudin was a simple, good, intelligent, 
 and well-bred man, and he seemed full of S3'mpathy for 
 Kar6nin ; but the hierarchy of office put a barrier between 
 them which silenced confidences. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, having signed the papers which 
 he brought, found it impossible, as he looked at Sliudin, to 
 open his heart to him. The question, " Do you know my 
 misfortune?" was on his lips ; he could not give it utterance, 
 and when they parted, he limited himself to his usual formula 
 of farewell, k ' You will have the goodness to prepare me this 
 work." 
 
 The doctor was another man who was well disposed to him, 
 but Aleksei Aleksandrovitch knew he was a very busy man, and 
 between them there was a tacit pledge by which each recog- 
 nized the other as full of business, and thus cut short their 
 interviews. 
 
 As to friends among women, and chief among these the 
 Countess Lidia, Karnin did not think of them at ah 1 . Women 
 simply as women were strange and repulsive. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 ALEKSEI ALEKSANDROVITCH forgot the Countess Lidia 
 Ivanovua, but she did not forget him. She reached his 
 house at that very moment of solitary despair when he sat 
 motionless, with his head between his hands. She did not 
 wait to be announced, but made her way to Karenin's 
 library. 
 
 " j'ai for$ la consigne " [I have broken your commands], 
 she said, as she came in with rapid steps, breathless with 
 emotion and agitation. "I know all, Aleksei Aleksandro-
 
 512 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 vitch, my friend ! " and she pressed his hand between her 
 own, and looked at him from the depths of her beautiful eyes. 
 
 Aleksel Aleksandrovitch, with a frown, arose, and, having 
 withdrawn his hand, offered her a chair. " I beg you to sit 
 down. I am not receiving because I am suffering, Countess," 
 he said, and his lips quivered. 
 
 "My friend!" repeated the countess, without taking her 
 eyes from him. She lifted her eyebrows so that they formed 
 a triangle on her forehead, and this grimace made her natu- 
 rally ugly face still more ugly than before. Aleks6i Aleksan- 
 drovitch understood that she was on the point of crying from 
 pity, and his heart softened towards her. He seized her fat 
 hand and kissed it. 
 
 " My friend," she said again, in a voice -half stifled with 
 emotion, " you must not give yourself up in this way to 3"our 
 grief. It is great, but you must try to conquer it." 
 
 " I am wounded, I am killed, 1 am no longer a man," said 
 Alekse"i Aleksandrovitch, letting go the countess's hand and 
 still looking at her with his eyes full of tears. " My situa- 
 tion is all the more unbearable because I can find neither in 
 myself nor outside of mvself any help toward endurance of 
 it." 
 
 " You will find this help, not in me, though I beg you to 
 believe in my friendship. Our help is love, the love which 
 He has given for an inheritance. His yoke is easy," she 
 continued, with the exalted look that Karenin knew so well. 
 " He will hear you and will give you His aid." 
 
 These words were sweet to Alekse'i Aleksandrovitch, 
 albeit the}- were the signs of a new mystical exaltation just 
 introduced into Petersburg. 
 
 " I am weak, I am humiliated. I foresaw nothing of this, 
 and now I cannot understand it." 
 
 " My friend !" repeated the countess. 
 
 " I do not mourn so much my loss," said Aleksi Alek- 
 sandrovitch ; ' ' but' I cannot help a feeling of shame for the 
 situation in which I am placed in the t^yes of the world. It 
 is bad, and I cannot, I cannot bear it." 
 
 "It is not you who have performed this noble act of for- 
 giveness which has filled me with envy. It is He dwelling in 
 your heart. So, too, you have no cause for shame," said the 
 countess, ecstatically raising her eyes. 
 
 Karenin frowned, and pressing his hands together, he 
 made his knuckles crack.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 513 
 
 "You must know all the details," he said, in his shrill 
 voice. "Man's powers are limited, countess; and i have 
 reached the limit of mine. All this day I have wasted in 
 domestic details, arisiar/ [he accented the word] from my 
 new, lonely situation. The servants, the governess, the ac- 
 counts, this is a slow fire devouring me, and 1 have not 
 strength to endure it. Yesterday- at dinner I cannot 
 contain myself I cannot endure to have my son look at 
 me he did not dare to ask me any questions, and I did 
 not dare to look at him. He was afraid to look at me 
 but that is a mere trifle." 
 
 Kare"nin wanted to speak of the bill that had been brought 
 him. His voice trembled, and he stopped. This bill on blue 
 paper, for a hat and ribbons, was a recollection that made 
 him pity himself. 
 
 " I understand, nvy friend, I understand it all. Aid and 
 consolation you will not find in me, but I have come to help 
 you if I can. If I could take from you these petty annoying 
 tasks I think that a woman's word, a woman's hand 
 are needed ; will you let me help you ? " 
 
 Karenin was silent, and pressed her hand gratefully. 
 
 "We will look after Serozha together. I am not strong 
 in practical affairs, but I can get used to them, and I will be 
 your ekonomka. Do not thank me ; I do not do it of my- 
 self" 
 
 " I cannot help being grateful." 
 
 "But, my friend, do not yield to the sentiment of which 
 you spoke a moment ago. How can you be ashamed of 
 what is the highest degree of Christian perfection? He u-lio 
 humbles himself shall be exalted. And you cannot thank me. 
 Thank Him, pray to Him for help. In Him alone we can 
 find peace, consolation, salvation, and love." 
 
 She raised her eyes to heaven, and Aleksi Aleksandro- 
 vitch felt that she was praying. 
 
 Alekse"i Aleksandrovitch listened to her, and this phrase- 
 ology which was once unpleasant to him now seemed natural 
 and soothing. He did not approve this new ecstatic mysti- 
 cism which was now so fashionable. He was a sincere 
 believer, and religion interested him principally in its relation 
 to politics ; thus the new teachings aroused his antipathy 
 from principle. The countess had not his approval in her 
 enthusiastic acceptation of them, but instead of discussing 
 the subject with her, he generally turned the conversation or
 
 514 ANNA KARENINA. 
 
 did not reply. But now he let her speak without hindrance, 
 a, ml even found a secret pleasure in her words. 
 
 " I am very, very grateful to you, botli for your words and 
 for your sympathy," he said, when she had ended her 
 prayer. 
 
 Again the countess pressed her friend's hand. 
 
 " Now 1 am going to set to work," said she with a smile, 
 wiping away the traces of tears on her face. " I am going 
 to Serozha, and I shall not trouble you except in serious 
 difficulties." 
 
 Tne Countess Lidia Ivanovna arose and went to the boy, 
 and while she bathed the scared little fellow's cheeks with 
 her tears, she told him that his father was a saint and his 
 mother was dead. 
 
 The countess fulfilled her promise. She took charge of 
 the details of Aleks^i Aleksandrovitch's house, but she 
 exaggerated in no respect when she declared that she was 
 not strong in practical affairs. It was impossible to carry 
 out her orders, and so they were not executed, and the man- 
 agement gradually came into the hands of Kornei, the 
 valet. He by degrees wonted his master to listen (while he 
 was dressing) to such reports as he deemed it best to make. 
 The countess's help was none the less useful, however. 
 Her affection and esteem were a moral support to him, and, 
 to her consolation, she almost succeeded in converting him. 
 At least, his lukewarmness through her influence was 
 changed into a fervent and genuine sympathy for Christian 
 instruction, such as shortly alter came into vogue in Peters- 
 burg. This conversion was not difficult. Aleksei Alek- 
 sandrovitch, as well as the countess and all those who fell 
 under the sway of these new ideas, were not gifted with 
 great imagination, or at least that faculty of the mind 
 by which the illusions of the imagination have sufficient 
 conformity with reality to cause their acceptation. Thus he 
 saw no impossibility or unlikelihood in death existing for 
 unbelievers and not for him, his soul being already free from 
 sin because he held a complete and unquestioning faith, 
 judged in his own way, or that even in this world he might 
 look up >n his safety as assured. 
 
 Nevertheless, the frivolity, the error, of these doctrines 
 often struck him. He then felt how much deeper was the joy 
 caused by the irresistible feeling that impelled him to grant 
 Anna's pardon than from that caused by the constant thought
 
 ANNA KAntiXIXA. 515 
 
 that Christ dwelt in his soul, and that by signing certain 
 papers he was following His will. But illusory as this 
 moral loftiness was, it was indispensable in his present 
 humiliation. He felt the imperious necessity of looking 
 down from the height of this imaginary elevation, upon 
 those who despised him, and he clung to his new convictions 
 as to a plauk of safety. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 THE Countess Lidia Ivanovna had been married when she 
 was a very young and enthusiastic girl to a good-natured 
 young fellow, very wealthy, aristocratic, and dissolute. 
 Two months after the wedding her husband deserted her. 
 He had replied to her effusive expressions of love with 
 scorn and even hatred which no one who knew the count's 
 kindliness, and were not acquainted with the faults of Lidia's 
 romantic nature, could comprehend. Since then, without 
 any formal divorce, they had lived apart, each in his own 
 way ; the husband never meeting his wife without that bit- 
 terness which puzzled people to understand. 
 
 The countess long ago ceased to worship her husband, 
 but she was always in love with some one and not seldom 
 with several at once men and women indiscriminately, and 
 generally with notabilities. Thus she lost her heart to each 
 of the new princes and princesses who married into the 
 imperial family. Then she was in love with one metro- 
 politan, one vicar, and one priest. Then she was in love 
 with one journalist, three Slavophiles and Komisarof ; then 
 with one foreign minister, one doctor, one English mission- 
 ary, and finally Karenin. These multifarious love affairs 
 and their different phases of warmth or coldness in nowise 
 hindered her from keeping up the most complicated relations 
 both with the court and society. But from the day when 
 she took Karenin under her special protection, from the time 
 when she began to busy herself with his domestic affairs and 
 work for his salvation, she felt that all her former passions 
 were of no account, but that she now loved Karenin alone 
 with perfect sincerity. Besides, as she analyzed her former 
 sentiments and compared them with those that she now 
 experienced, she clearly saw that she would never have 
 loved Komisarof if he had not saved the Emperor's life, or 
 Ristilsh-Kudzhitsky, had not the Slav question existed.
 
 516 ANNA KARfiNINA 
 
 But Karnin she loved for himself, for his great, unap- 
 preciated spirit, for his character, for the sound of his voice, 
 his deliberate speech, his weary eyes, and his soft white 
 hands with their swollen veins. Not only did the thought of 
 seeing him fill her with joy, but it seemed to her that she saw 
 on her friend's face the expression of a feeling like her own. 
 She did her best to please him, no less by her person than 
 by her conversation. Never before had she spent so much 
 on her toilet. More than once she found herself wondering 
 what would happen if she were not married and he were 
 only free ! When he came in, she colored with pleasure and 
 she could not restrain a smile of ecstasy if he said some- 
 thing pleasant to her. 
 
 For several days the countess had been greatly annoyed. 
 She knew that Yronsky and Anna were back in Petersburg. 
 It was necessary now to spare Aleksei Aleksandrovitch the 
 torture of seeing his wife. How could she free him from the 
 odious thought that this wretched woman was living in 
 the same town with him and might meet him at any instant? 
 
 Lidia Ivanovna set enquirers on foot to discover the plans 
 of these repulsive people, as she called Anna and Vronsky, 
 and she tried to direct all of Kare"nin's movements so that 
 he might not meet them. The young adjutant, a friend of 
 Vronsky's, from whom she learned about them, and who was 
 hoping through the Countess Lidia Ivanovna's influence to 
 get a position, told her that they were completing their 
 arrangements and expected to depart on the following day. 
 Lidia Ivanovna was beginning to breathe freely once more, 
 when on the next morning she received a note, the hand- 
 writing of which she recognized with terror. It was from 
 Anna Karnina. The envelope of English paper thick as 
 bark, on the oblong, yellow sheet of paper adorned with an 
 immense monogram. The note exhaled a delicious perfume. 
 
 "Who brought it?" 
 
 " The Commissioner from the hotel." 
 
 The countess waited long before she had the courage to 
 sit down and read it. Her emotion almost brought on one 
 of her attacks of asthma. At last, when she felt calmer, 
 she opened the following note written in French : 
 
 11 Madame la Comtesse: 
 
 "The Christian sentiments filling your heart prompt me, 
 with unpardonable boldness, I fear, to address you. I am 
 unhappy at being separated from my son, and I ask you to
 
 ANNA KAREN1NA. 517 
 
 do me the favor of letting me see him once more before I 
 depart. It' I do not make direct application to Aleksel 
 Aleksandrovitch, it is because I do not wish to give this 
 generous-hearted man the pain of thinking of me. Knowing 
 your friendship for him, I felt that you would understand 
 me ; will you have Serozha sent to me here ? or do you prefer 
 that I should come at an appointed hour? or would you let 
 me know bow and at what place I could see him? You can- 
 not imagine my desire to see my child again, and conse- 
 quently you cannot comprehend the extent of my grateful- 
 ness for the assistance that you can render me in these 
 circumstances. ANNA." 
 
 Everything about this note exasperated the Countess Lidia 
 Ivanovna ; its tenor, the allusions to Kar6niu's magnanimity, 
 and the especially free and easy tone which pervaded it. 
 
 " Say that there is no reply," and, hurriedly opening her 
 blotting-pad, she wrote to Aleks6i Aleksandrovitch that she 
 hoped to meet him about one o'clock at the Palace ; it was 
 the Emperor's birthday, and the Imperial family received 
 congratulations. 
 
 " I must consult with you in regard to a sad and serious 
 affair ; we will decide at the Palace when I can see }'ou. 
 The best plan would be at my house, where I will have your 
 tea ready. It is absolutely necessary. He imposes the 
 cross, but He gives us also the strength," she added, that 
 his mind might be somewhat prepared. 
 
 The countess wrote Aleksi Aleksandrovitch two or three 
 times a day ; she liked this way of keeping up her relations 
 with him, and thought it both elegant and mysterious, while 
 ordinary ways were not sufficient. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 THE congratulations were over. As they went away, they 
 talked about the latest news, the rewards given on this day, 
 and the changed positions of some high officials. 
 
 ' What should you say if the Countess Mary a Borisovna 
 was made minister of war, and the Princess Vatkovskai'a, 
 chief of staff?" asked a little, gray-haired old man, in a 
 gold-embroidered uniform, who was talking with a tall, hand- 
 some maid of honor about the recent changes. 
 
 "In that case, I should be made adjutant," replied the 
 young girl, smiling.
 
 518 ANNA KARtiNIXA. 
 
 "You? Your place is already settled. You are to have 
 charge of the department of religions, aud Kar6nin is to be 
 your assistant." 
 
 "How do you do, Prince?" said the little old man, 
 shaking hands with some one who came along. 
 
 " Were you speaking of Kare"niu?" asked the prince. 
 
 "Yes; he and Putiatof have been decorated with the 
 order of Alexander Nevsky." 
 
 " I thought he had it already. " 
 
 " No ; look at him," said the little old man, pointing with 
 his gold-laced hat towards Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, who was 
 standing in the doorway, talking with one of the influential 
 members of the Imperial Council ; he wore the court uniform, 
 with his new red ribbon across his shoulder. "Happy and 
 contented as a copper kopek ! isn't he ? " And the old man 
 stopped to press the hand of a handsome, athletic chamber- 
 lain passing by. 
 
 " No ; he has grown old," said the chamberlain. 
 
 " With cares. He spends his life in writing projects. He 
 has buttonholed his unhappy prey, and will not let him 
 go until he has explained everything point by point." 
 
 " What, grown old?" II fait des passions. The Coun- 
 tess Lidia ought to be jealous of his wife." 
 
 "Nu! 1 beg of you not to speak ill of the Countess 
 Lidia." 
 
 " Is there any harm in her being in love with Kareniu?" 
 
 "Is Madame Kar6nina really here?" 
 
 "Not here at the Palace, but in Petersburg. I met her 
 yesterday with Alekse'i Vronsky bras dessus, bras dessous 
 [arm in arm], on the Morska'ia." 
 
 " C'est un homme qui n'a pas" began the chamberlain, 
 in French ; but he broke short off to salute and make way 
 for a member of the Imperial family who was passing. 
 
 While they were thus criticising and ridiculing Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch, the latter was barring the way of the Im- 
 perial Counsellor, and without pausing to take breath, lest he 
 should lose him, was giving a detailed explanation of a 
 financial scheme. 
 
 Alekse'i Aleksandrovitch. about the time that his wife left 
 him, had reached a situation painful for an official, the 
 culmination of his upward career. Possibly he was the only 
 one who did not see that his career was ended. Either his 
 collision with Stremof, or his trouble with his wife, or the
 
 519 
 
 simple fact that Alekse'i Aleksandrovitch had reached his 
 limit, the fact remained that every one saw clearly that his 
 official race was run. He still held an important place : he 
 was a member of many important committees and councils ; 
 but he was one of those men of whom nothing more is ex- 
 pected : his day was over. All that he said, all that he pro- 
 posed, seemed antiquated and vain. But Alekse'i Aleksan- 
 drovitch himself did not realize this, but felt that he could 
 appreciate the acts of the government more fairly since he 
 had ceased to take an active share in it, and thought that it 
 was his duty to indicate certain reforms which should be in- 
 troduced. Shortly after his wife's departure he began to 
 write his first pamphlet about the new tribunals, and proposed 
 to follow it up with a series on the different branches of the 
 administration. 
 
 He not only did not realize his hopeless situation in the 
 official world, and therefore did not lose heart, but he took 
 immense delight in his activity. 
 
 " He that is unmarried is careful for the things of the 
 Lord, how he may please the Lord ; but he that is married 
 is careful for the things of the world, how he may please his 
 wife," said the Apostle Paul. And Alekse'i Aleksandrovitch, 
 who now directed his life in all respects according to the 
 Epistle, often quoted this text. It seemed to him, now that 
 he was deprived of his wife, that l)y devotion to these projects 
 he served the Lord more faithfull}* than ever. 
 
 The Imperial Counsellor's very manifest impatience in no 
 way abashed Kare'nin, but he stopped a moment as a prince 
 of the Imperial family was passing, and his victim seized his 
 opportunity to escape. 
 
 Left to himself, Alekse'i Aleksandrovitch bowed his head, 
 tried to collect his thoughts, and, with an absent-minded 
 glance about him, stepped towards the door, hoping to meet 
 the countess there. 
 
 " How strong and healthy they look! " he said to himself, 
 as he caught sight of the vigorous neck of the prince, who 
 wore a close-fitting uniform, and the handsome chamberlain 
 with his perfumed side-whiskers. "It is only too true that 
 all is evil in this world," he thought, as he looked at the 
 chamberlain's sturdy legs. 
 
 ki Ah ! Alekse'i Aleksandrovitch ! " cried the little old man, 
 with a wicked light glowing in his eyes, as Kare'nin passed 
 him with a cold bow. t; I have not yet congratulated you," 
 and he pointed to the newly received ribbon.
 
 520 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 " I thank you. This is afoie day ! " replied Alekse"i Alek- 
 sandrovitch, accentuating the adjective, as was his habit. 
 
 He knew that these gentlemen were making sport of him ; 
 but, as he expected nothing but hostile feelings, he was 
 entirely indifferent. 
 
 The countess's yellow shoulders and soft, pensive eyes now 
 became visible and invited him from afar ; with a smile that 
 showed his even, white teeth, he went to join her. 
 
 Lidia Ivanovna's toilet had cost her much labor, like all her 
 recent efforts in this direction ; for she was pursuing a very 
 different aim from that which she had set thirty years before. 
 Formerly she had thought only of adorning herself, and was 
 never too elegant for her taste ; now she sought to render the 
 contrast endurable between her person and her toilet, and in 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch's eyes she succeeded : he thought 
 her charming. This woman's sympath} 7 and tenderness were 
 for him a sole refuge from the general animosity ; from the 
 midst of this throng of enemies he felt drawn to her like a 
 plant towards the light. 
 
 " I congratulate you," she said, looking at his decoration. 
 
 Karenin shrugged his shoulders and half closed his eyes, 
 as if to say that this was nothing to him. 
 
 The countess knew that these distinctions, even though he 
 would not confess it, caused him the keenest pleasure. 
 
 " How is our angel? " she asked, referring to Serozha. 
 
 "I cannot say that I am very well satisfied with him," 
 replied Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, lifting his e}-ebrows and 
 opening his eyes. " Sitnikof does not please him. [Sitnikof 
 was Serozha's tutor.] As I told you, I find in him a certain 
 apathy towards the essential questions which ought to move 
 the soul of every man and of every child." And Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch began to discourse on a subject which, next 
 to the questions of administration, gave him the most con- 
 cern, his son's education. 
 
 Never till the present time had educational questions inter- 
 ested him ; but having been called upon to look after his son's 
 training, he spent a portion of his time in studying works on 
 anthropology, pedagogy, and didactics, and he conceived a 
 plan of stud}" which the best tutor in Petersburg was then 
 entrusted to put into practice. And this work constantly 
 occupied him. 
 
 "Yes; but his heart? I find in this child his father's 
 heart, and with that he cannot be bad," said the countess with 
 enthusiasm.
 
 ANNA KARENINA. 521 
 
 " Da! Possibly. For me, I perform my duty: it is all 
 that I can do." 
 
 Will you come to my house?" asked the countess after 
 a moment's silence. " I have a very painful matter to talk 
 with you about. I would have given the world to spare you 
 certain memories ; others do not think the same. I have 
 had a letter from her. She is in Petersburg." 
 
 Aleksi Aleksandrovitch quivered at the recollection of his 
 wife ; but his face instantly assumed an expression of mortal 
 petrifaction that showed how absolutely unable he was to 
 treat of such a subject. 
 
 " I expected it," he said. 
 
 The countess looked at him with exaltation, and in the 
 presence of a soul so great, tears of transport sprang to her 
 eyes. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 WHEN Alekse"! entered the Countess Lidia Ivanovna's 
 library, decorated with portraits and old porcelains, he failed 
 to find his friend. 
 
 She was changing her dress. 
 
 On a round table covered with a cloth, stood a Chinese tea- 
 service and a silver spirit-teapot. Aleks6i Aleksaudrovitch 
 studied the numberless paintings that adorned the room ; then 
 he sat down near a table and picked up the New Testament. 
 The rustling of a silk dress put his thoughts to flight. 
 
 " Nu! Vot! Now we can be a little more free from dis- 
 turbance," said the countess- with a smile, gliding between 
 the table and the divan. "-We can talk while drinking our 
 tea." 
 
 After several words, meant to prepare his mind, she sighed 
 deeply, and with a tinge of color in her cheeks, she put 
 Anna's letter into his hands. 
 
 He read it, and sat long in silence. 
 
 "I do not feel that I have the right to refuse her," he 
 said at length, raising his eyes with some timidity. 
 
 " My friend, you never can see evil anywhere." 
 
 "On the contrary, I find evil everywhere. But would it 
 be fair to" 
 
 His face expressed indecision, desire for advice, for sup- 
 port, for guidance in such a thorny question. 
 
 "No," interrupted Lidia Ivanovna, "there are limits to 
 all things. I understand immorality," she said, not with
 
 522 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 absolute sincerity, since she did not know why women could 
 be immoral, " but what 1 do not undersUind is cruelty 
 towards any one ! Towards you ! How can she remain in 
 the same city with you? One is never too old to learn, and 
 I learn every day your grandeur and her baseness ! " 
 
 " Who shall cast the first stone?" asked Aleksei Aleksan- 
 drovitch, evidently satisfied with the part that he was acting. 
 " After giving her everything, can I deprive her of what is 
 a need of her heart, her love for the child?" 
 
 " But is it love, my friend? Is it all sincere? You hove 
 forgiven her, and you still forgive her ; I am willing. But 
 have you the right to vex the soul of this little angel ? He 
 believes that she is dead ; he prays for her and asks God to 
 pardon her sins. It is better so. What would he think now ?" 
 
 " I had not thought of that," said Aleksei Aleksandroviteh, 
 perceiving the justice of her words. 
 
 The countess covered her face with her hands and was 
 silent : she was praying. 
 
 " Jf you ask my advice," she replied at length, " you will 
 not do this. Do I not see how you suffer, how your wound 
 bleeds? Admit that you make a mere abstraction of your- 
 self, but where will it lead you? You are laying up for 
 yourself new sufferings, and an unknown trouble for the 
 child ! If she were still capable of human feelings, she 
 would be the first to feel it herself. No ! I have no hesita- 
 tion about it, and if you give me your authority, I will reply 
 to her." 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandroviteh consented, and the countess 
 wrote, in French, this letter : 
 
 "Madame, Recalling your existence to your son would 
 be likely to raise questions which it would be impossible to 
 answer without obliging the child to judge that which should 
 remain sacred to him. You would, therefore, easily under- 
 stand that 3"our husband's refusal is in the spirit of Christian 
 charity. I pray the Omnipotent to be merciful to you. 
 
 " COMPTESSE LlDIA." 
 
 This letter accomplished the secret aim which the countess 
 would not confess even to herself ; it wounded Anna to the 
 bottom of her soul. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandroviteh went home disturbed, and unable 
 to take up his ordinary occupations, or recover the peace of 
 man who has grace, and feels that he is among the elect.
 
 ANNA KARENINA. 523 
 
 The thought of his wife so guilty towards him, and 
 towards whom he had acted like a saint, to use the countess's 
 comparison, ought not to have disturbed him, and yet he was 
 ill at ease. He could not understand a word of what he was 
 reading, or succeed in driving away from his mind the cruel 
 memories of the past. He remembered with a feeling like 
 remorse Anna's confession the day of the races. Why had he 
 not then obliged her to respect the proprieties ? Why had he 
 not challenged Vronsky to a duel ? This was what troubled 
 him most of all. And his letter to his wife, his futile 
 pardon, his pains wasted on the baby that was not his, all 
 came back to his memory, and overwhelmed his heart with 
 shame and confusion. 
 
 "But how am I at fault?" he asked himself ; and this 
 question was followed by another, "Do other men feel 
 differently, fall in love differently, and marry differently, 
 these Vronskvs, Oblonskys, these chamberlains with their 
 handsome caloers ? ' ' His imagination called up a whole line of 
 these vigorous minds, self-confident and strong, who had 
 always attracted his curiosity and his wonder. 
 
 The more he tried to drive away such thoughts as these, 
 and to remember that since the end and aim of his life was 
 not this world, peace and charity alone ought to dwell in his 
 soul, the more he suffered, as though eternal salvation was 
 only a chimera. 
 
 Fortunately the temptation was not long, and soon 
 Aleksei Aleksaudrovitch regained that serenity and eleva- 
 tion of mind, by which he succeeded in putting away all that 
 he wished to forget. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " Nu, Kapitonnich ? " said Serozha, as he came in, rosy 
 and gay, after his walk, on the evening before his birthday, 
 while the old Swiss, smiling down from his superior height, 
 helped the young man off with his coat, "did the bandaged 
 tchinovnik come to-day? Did papa see him?" 
 
 "Yes; the secretary had only just got here when I 
 announced him," replied the Swiss, winking one eye gayly. 
 
 " Serozha ! Serozha ! " called the Slavophile tutor, who was 
 standing by the door that led to the inner rooms, " take off 
 your coat yourself." 
 
 But Serozha, though he heard his tutor's weak voice, paid
 
 524 AXXA KARENIXA. 
 
 no heed ; standing by the Swiss, he held him by the belt, 
 and gazed at him with all his eyes. 
 
 "And did papa do what he wanted?" 
 
 The Swiss nodded. 
 
 This tchinovnik, with his head in a bandage, who had come 
 seven times to ask some favor of Aleks^i Aleksandrovitch, 
 interested Serozha and the Swiss. Serozha had met him 
 one day in the vestibule, and listened, as he begged the Swiss 
 to let him be admitted, saying that nothing was left for him 
 and his children but to die. Since that time the lad had 
 felt great concern for the poor man. 
 
 " Say, did he seem very glad? " asked Serozha. 
 
 " Glad as he could be ; he went off almost leaping." 
 
 " Has anything come?" asked Serozha, after a moment's 
 silence. 
 
 "Yes, yes, sudar," said the Swiss, lifting his head, 
 " there is something from the countess." 
 
 Serozha understood that it was a birthday present from 
 the countess. 
 
 ' What did you say ? Where ? " 
 
 Korn6i took it to papa ; it must be something beautiful." 
 ' How big ? as big as this ? " 
 Smaller, but beautiful." 
 A little book?" 
 
 "No; its something. Run away, run awa} 7 . Vasili 
 Lukitch is calling you," said the Swiss, hearing the tutor's 
 steps approach, and gently removing the little gloved hand 
 which held his belt. 
 
 "In a little bit of a moment, Vasili Lukitch," said 
 Serozha, with the amiable and gracious smile to whose 
 influence even the stern tutor submitted. 
 
 Serozha was in radiant spirits, and wanted to tell his 
 friend, the Swiss, about a piece of good fortune, which the 
 countess, Lidia Ivanovna's niece, had told him while they 
 were walking in the summer garden, had befallen the family. 
 His happiness seemed greater still since he heard about the 
 tchinovnik's success and his present. It seemed to Serozha 
 that every one ought to be happy this beautiful day. 
 
 " Do you know papa has received the Alexander Nevsky 
 order?" 
 
 "Why shouldn't I know? He has been receiving con- 
 gratulations." 
 
 "Is he glad?"
 
 ANNA KARENINA. 525 
 
 "How could he help being glad of the Emperor's favor? 
 Is it a proof that he deserves it?" asked the old Swiss, 
 gravely. 
 
 Serozha reflected as he looked into the Swiss's face, which 
 he knew even to the least detail, but especially the chin, 
 between his gray side-whiskers. No one had seen his chin 
 except Serozha, who looked up at it from below. 
 
 " Nu! and your daughter? Isn'Mt a long time since she 
 has been to see us ? " 
 
 The Swiss's daughter was a ballet-dancer. 
 
 ' ' How could she find time to come on work-days ? " he 
 exclaimed. "They have their lessons as well as you yours, 
 sudar." 
 
 When Serozha reached his room, instead of attending to 
 his tasks, he poured out into the tutor's ears all his surmises 
 about the present which had been brought him. " It must 
 be a locomotive engine; what do you think about it?" he 
 asked ; but Vasili Lukitch was thinking of nothing except the 
 grammar lesson, which had to be ready for the professor, 
 who came at two o'clock. 
 
 " Tell me just one thing, Vasili Lukitch," asked the child, 
 who was now sitting at his desk, with his book in his hands, 
 "What is there higher than the Alexander Nevsky? You 
 know that papa is decorated?" 
 
 The tutor said that the order of Vladimir was higher. 
 
 "And above that?" 
 
 " St Andrew above them all." 
 
 " And above that?" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 "Why don't you know?" and Serozha, leaning his head 
 on his hand, began to think. 
 
 The child's thoughts were very varied ; he imagined that 
 his father perhaps was going to have the orders of Vladimir 
 and St. Andrew, and that, therefore, he would be more 
 indulgent for his day's lessons. Then he said to himself, 
 that when he grew up, he would do his best to deserve all 
 the decorations, even those that would be given higher than 
 that of St. Andrew. A new order would scarcely have time 
 to be founded before he would make himself worthy of it. 
 These thoughts made the time pass so quick, that when it 
 was the hour to recite, he did not know his lesson at all ; 
 and the professor seemed not only vexed, but pained. 
 Serozha was rueful ; his lesson, though he studied it, had
 
 526 ANNA RARE NINA. 
 
 not made any impression on his mind. When the professor 
 was present, it was well ; for by listening, he imagined that 
 he understood ; but when he was by himself, everything was 
 mixed and contused. He seized a moment when his teacher 
 was looking up some reference, to ask him, 
 
 " Mikhai'l Ivauovitch, when is your birthday?" 
 
 " You would do better to think about your work; birth- 
 days have no importance for a reasonable being. It is only 
 a day just like any other, and must be spent in work." 
 
 Serozha looked attentively at his teacher, studied his 
 sparse beard, his eye-glasses far down on his nose, and got 
 into such a deep brown study, that he heard nothing of the 
 rest of the lesson. He was wondering if his teacher believed 
 what he said. By the tone in which he said it, he felt that 
 it was incredible. 
 
 " But why do they all try to say to me the most tiresome 
 things and the most useless things, and all in the same way? 
 Why does this man keep me from him, and not love me ? " 
 he asked himself, and he could not tell. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 AFTER the professor, came the lesson with his father. 
 Serozha, while waiting for him, played with his penknife as 
 he leaned his elbow on the desk ; and he fell into new 
 thoughts. 
 
 One of his favorite occupations was to look for his mother 
 while he was out walking. He did not know much about 
 death ; and he did not believe that his mother was dead, 
 though his father and the Countess Lidia Ivanovna said she 
 was. Every tall, graceful woman with dark hair he imagined 
 to be his mother; at the sight of every such woman, his 
 heart would swell with love, the tears would come into his 
 eyes, and he would wait until the lady drew near him, and 
 raised her veil ; then he would see her face ; she would kiss 
 him, smile upon him ; he would feel the sweet caress of her 
 hand, smell the well-known perfume, and weep with joy. as 
 he did one evening when he lay at her feet, and she tickled 
 him, because she and he laughed so heartily, and gently bit 
 her white hand, covered with rings. Later, when he learned 
 accidentally from the old nurse that his mother was alive, 
 but his father and the countess told him that she was dead 
 because she was a wicked woman, this seemed still more
 
 ANXA KAEtiNINA. 527 
 
 impossible to Serozha, because he loved her ; and he looked 
 lor her and longed for her. This very day, in the Summer 
 garden, he had seen a Inch' in a lilac veil, and his heart beat 
 violently when he saw her take the same footpath where he 
 was walking ; but suddenly she vanished. Serozha felt a 
 stronger love than ever for his mother; and now, while 
 waiting for his father, he was cutting his desk with his pen- 
 knife ; with shining eyes, was looking straight ahead, and 
 thinking of her. 
 
 ' Here comes your papa," said Vasili Lukitch. 
 
 Serozha jumped up from the chair, ran to kiss his father's 
 hand, and looked for some sign of pleasure because he had 
 received the decoration. 
 
 " Did you have a good walk?" asked Alekse"! Aleksandro- 
 vitch, as he sat down in an armchair, and opened the Old 
 Testament. 
 
 Though he had often told Serozha that every Christian 
 ought to know the Old Testament history by heart, he had 
 often to consult it for his lessons ; and the child noticed it. 
 
 " Yes, papa, I enjoyed it very much," said Serozha, 
 sitting across his chair and tipping it, which was forbidden. 
 " I saw Xadenka [Nadenka was the countess's niece, whom 
 she adopted], and she told me that they've given you 
 a new decoration. Are you glad, papa?" 
 
 "In the first place, don't tip your chair so, and in the 
 second place, know that what ought to be dear to us is work 
 for itself and not the reward. I want 3~ou to understand 
 that. If you seek only the recompense, the work will seem 
 painful ; but if you love work, your recompense will come of 
 itself." And Aleksei Aleksandrovitch remembered that on 
 this very day he had signed one hundred and eighteen 
 different papers with no other support in a most unwelcome 
 task than the feeling of duty. 
 
 Serozha's bright and shining eyes grew gloomy as his 
 father looked at him. 
 
 He felt that his father in speaking to him put on a 
 peculiar tone as though he were addressing one of those 
 imaginary children found in books, and whom Serozha did 
 not in the least resemble. He was used to it, and he did his 
 best to find wherein he had anything in common with these 
 exemplary little malcMlts. 
 
 "You understand me, I hope." 
 
 "Yes, papa," replied the lad, playing the part of this 
 imaginary little personage.
 
 528 AyyA KARgNINA. 
 
 The lesson consisted of the recitation of several verses of 
 the Gospel and the review of the first part of the Old Testa- 
 ment. The lesson went fairly well. But suddenly Serozha 
 was struck by the appearance of his father's forehead, which 
 made almost a right angle near the temples, and he gave the 
 end of the verse entirely wrong. Alekse'i Aleksandrovitch 
 concluded that he did not understand the meaning of what 
 he was reciting, and he was vexed. 
 
 He frowned, and began to explain what Serozha could not 
 have forgotten, having heard it so many times. The child, 
 scared, looked at his father and thought only one thing : 
 would his father oblige him to repeat the explanation that 
 he had given him, as he had done at other times? This fear 
 kept him from understanding. Fortunately, his father 
 passed on to the lesson in Sacred History. Serozha rapidly 
 narrated the facts themselves ; but when it came to the 
 explanation of their meaning, he did not know it at all, 
 though it was part of his lesson. The place where he could 
 not recite and was troubled, where he whittled the table and 
 rocked the chair, was the critical moment when he had to repeat 
 the list of antediluvian patriarchs. Not one could he remem- 
 ber, not even Enoch, who went to heaven alive, though Enoch 
 was his favorite character in Biblical history, and he con- 
 nected with the translation of this patriarch a long string of 
 ideas which completely absorbed him while he was staring at 
 his father's watch-chain and a loose button on his coat. 
 
 Serozha absolutely disbelieved in death, though they had 
 told him about it many times. He could not believe that 
 those whom he loved could die, and especially incredible 
 was the thought of his own death. It all seemed incredible 
 and incomprehensible, but people in whom he had confi- 
 dence told him that everybody must die. The nurse her- 
 self, though unwillingly, said the same thing. But Enoch 
 did not die, and perhaps others might not have to die. 
 
 " Why did not others deserve as much as he to go up to 
 heaven alive," asked Serozha. The wicked, those whom 
 he disliked, might have to die, but the good might be like 
 Enoch. 
 
 " Nti! how about these patriarchs?" 
 
 u Enoch Enos" 
 
 " You have already mentioned him. This is bad, Ser- 
 ozha, very bad. If you do not endeavor to learn the things 
 essential for a Christian to know, what will become of you?"
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 529 
 
 asked his father, getting up. " I am dissatisfied with 
 you, and Piotr Ignatitch is dissatisfied with you, so I am 
 compelled to punish you." 
 
 Father and pedagogue both found fault with him, and Se- 
 rozha was doubtless making bad work of it, and yet he was 
 not a stupid boy ; on the contrary, he was far superior to 
 those whom his teacher held up to him as examples. If he 
 did not want to learn what was taught him, it was because 
 he could not, and for the reason that his mind had needs 
 very different from those that his teachers imagined. He 
 was only nine years old. He was only a child ; but he knew 
 his soul, and he objected to any one trying to force a way in 
 without the key of love. He was blamed for being unwill- 
 ing to learn, and yet he was all on fire with the yearning for 
 knowledge ; but he got his lessons from Kapitonuitch, his old 
 nurse, Nadenka, and Vasili Lukitch. The water which the 
 father and the pedagogue poured on the mill-wheel was 
 wasted, but the work was done in another place. 
 
 Serozha was accordingly punished. He was refused per- 
 mission to go to see Nadenka ; but his punishment turned 
 out to be an advantage. Vasili Lukitch was in good humor, 
 and taught him the art of making a little wind-mill. The 
 afternoon was spent in working and thinking of the ways 
 and means to make the mill go. Should he fasten wings to 
 it, or fix it so he could turn it himself? He forgot about his 
 mother all the evening ; but after he had got into bed, her 
 memory suddenly came back to him, and he prayed in his 
 own words that she might cease to veil herself, and make him 
 a visit the next day, which was his birthday. 
 
 "Vasili Lukitch, do you know what I prayed God for?" 
 
 "To study better?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Toys?" 
 
 "No. You must not guess. It is a secret; when it 
 comes to pass, I will tell vou. Are you sure you don't 
 know ? " 
 
 'No; you must tell me !" said Vasili Lukitch, smiling, 
 which was rare with him. " Nu! get into bed ; I am going 
 to put out the light." 
 
 " I see much better what I asked in my prayer when there 
 isn't any light. There, I almost told my secret ! " cried 
 Serozha, laughing gaylv. 
 
 Serozha believed that he heard his mother and felt her
 
 530 AXXA KARtiNINA 
 
 presence when he was in the dark. She was standing near 
 him, and looking at him tenderly with her loving face ; then 
 he saw a mill, a knife ; then all melted into darkness, and he 
 was asleep. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 WHEN Vronsky and Anna reached Petersburg, they stopped 
 at one of the best hotels. Vronsky had a room on the 
 ground floor ; Anna, up one flight of stairs, with her baby, 
 the nurse, and her maid, occupied a suite of four rooms. 
 
 On the day of his return, Vronsky went to see his brother ; 
 he found his mother there, who had come down from Moscow 
 on business. His mother and sister-in-law received him as 
 usual, asked him about his travels, spoke of common friends, 
 but they made no allusion to Anna. His brother, who 
 returned his call the next morning, asked him about her and 
 Aleks6i Aleksandrovitch. Vronsky explained to him that he 
 considered the bond which united him to Madame Kare'nina 
 the same as marriage, that he hoped to obtain a divorce, 
 and then he should marry her, which would regulate their 
 situation ; he wanted his mother and sister-in-law to under- 
 stand his intentions. 
 
 " The world may not approve of me ; that is all one to 
 me ; " he added, " but if my family wish to remain on good 
 terms with me, they must show proper respect for my wife." 
 
 The elder brother, always very respectful of his brother's 
 opinions, allowed the world to settle this delicate question, 
 and without hesitation went with Alekse"i to call upon Mad- 
 ame Kare'nina. Vronsky spoke to Anna with the formal vui 
 (you) , as he always did before strangers, and treated her as 
 a mere acquaintance ; but it was perfectly understood what 
 her relations to him were, and they spoke freely of Anna's 
 visit to the Vronsky estate. 
 
 In spite of his knowledge of society, Vronsky fell into a 
 strange error ; he who better than any one else ought to have 
 understood that society would shut its doors upon them, per- 
 suaded himself by a strange freak of imagination that public 
 opinion, having progressed beyond its ancient prejudices, 
 must have yielded to the influence of civilization. "Of 
 course, we can't count on being received at court," he 
 thought; "but our relatives, our friends, will understand 
 things as they are."
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 531 
 
 A man may sit for some time with his legs doubled up in 
 one and the same position, provided he knows that he can 
 change ; but if he knows that he must sit in such a con- 
 strained position, then his legs get cramps, he will feel drawn 
 to get away. Vronsky experienced this in regard to society. 
 Though he knew in the bottom of his soul that society was 
 shut to them, he tried to force its door. But he quickly 
 found that even if it were open to him, it was shut to Anna. 
 
 One of the first ladies of Petersburg society whom he met 
 was his cousin Betsy. " At last?" she cried joyously, " and 
 Anna? How glad I am! Where are you stopping? I can 
 easily imagine the hideous effect that Petersburg must have 
 upon you after such a journey ! I can imagine your honey- 
 moon in Rome ! And the divorce? is it arranged?" 
 
 Vronsky saw that Betsy's enthusiasm cooled when she 
 learned that the divorce was not yet forthcoming. 
 
 " I know well that I shall be stoned," said she ; " but I am 
 coming to see Anna. You won't stay long, I imagine ? " 
 
 She came, in fact, on that very day ; but her manner was 
 entire!}" different from what it used to be. She seemed to 
 make much of her courage, and insisted that it was a proof 
 of her fidelity and friendship towards Anna. After talking 
 for about ten minutes on the news of the day, she got up, 
 and said as she went away, "You have not told me yet 
 when the divorce is to be. Grant that I throw my bonnet 
 over the mill, but I guess few will do as much, and you will 
 find that others will turn the cold shoulder so long as you are 
 not married, and it is so easy now-a-days, qa se fait. So 
 you are going Friday ? I am sorry that I shall not be able 
 to see you again." 
 
 Betsy's manner might have warned Vronsky what sort of a 
 reception society was waiting to show them. He knew well 
 that his mother, though so enthusiastic in Anna's praise at 
 their first meeting, would be relentless toward her now that 
 she had spoiled her son's career ; but Vronsky founded the 
 loftiest hopes on Varia, his sister-in-law ; she certainly 
 would not be the first to cast a stone at Anna, but would 
 come simply and naturally to see her. 
 
 On the next day, finding her alone, he opened the subject. 
 
 " You know, Aleksei, how fond I am of you," replied 
 Varia, after hearing what he had to say, " and how devoted 
 I am to you and willing I am to do anything for you ; but if 
 I kept silent, it is because I know that I cannot be of the
 
 532 ANNA KARENINA. 
 
 least use to you and Anna Arkadyevna. [She accented the 
 two names.] Don't for a moment think that I allow myself 
 to judge her not at all ; perhaps 1 should have done the 
 same thing in her place. I cannot enter into details," she 
 added timidly, as she saw her brother-in-law's face darken ; 
 "but we must call things by their right name. You would 
 like me to go and see her, and then have her visit me, in 
 order to restore her to society. But I cannot do it. My 
 daughters are growing up ; I am obliged, on my husband's 
 account, to go into society. Nu! I will go to call on Anna 
 Arkadyevna ; but she knows that I cannot invite her here lest 
 she should meet in my drawing-room people who do not think 
 as I do, and that would wound her. I cannot receive her." 
 
 " But I do not for an instant admit that she is a fallen 
 woman, and I would not compare her to hundreds of women 
 whom 3 r ou receive," interrupted Vronsky, rising, and seeing 
 that his sister-in-law was not going to yield. 
 
 " Aleksei, don't be angry with me; it is not my fault," 
 said Varia, with a timid sinile. 
 
 " I am not angry with you, but I suffer doubly," said he, 
 growing more and more gloomy. "I suffer because this 
 breaks our friendship, or, at least, it wounds it ; for you 
 must know that such will be for us the inevitable result." 
 
 He left her with these words. He perceived the uselessness 
 of new endeavors ; and, as he still had to spend a few days 
 in Petersburg, he resolved to act as though he were in a 
 foreign city, and to avoid all occasion for new vexations. 
 
 One of the most painful circumstances that met him was 
 to hear his name eve^where associated with that of Aleksi 
 Aleksandrovitch. Every conversation brought up the affair ; 
 and if he went out, he was sure to meet him, just as a person 
 with a sore finger is always hitting it against the furniture. 
 
 On the other side, Anna's behavior vexed him. He saw that 
 she was in a strange, incomprehensible moral frame of mind 
 which he had never seen before. Now tender, now cold, she 
 was always irritable and enigmatical. Evidently something 
 tormented her ; but, instead of being sensitive to the indig- 
 nities which Vronsky suffered so keenly, and which in her 
 ordinary delicacy of perception she would have suffered also, 
 she seemed occupied solely in hiding her pain, and perfectly 
 indifferent to the rest.
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 533 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 ANNA'S chief desire on her return to Russia was to see her 
 son. From the day that she left Italy she was filled with 
 this idea ; and her joy increased in proportion as she drew 
 near Petersburg. She did not trouble herself with the ques- 
 tion how she should manage this meeting which seemed to her 
 of such importance. It was a simple and natural thing, she 
 thought, to see her child once more, now that she was in the 
 same town with him ; but since her arrival she suddenly real- 
 ized her present relation towards society, and found that the 
 interview was not easy to obtain. 
 
 She had been two days now in Petersburg, and never for 
 an instant had she forgotten her son, but she had not seen 
 him. 
 
 To go straight to her husband's house and risk coming face 
 to face with her husband, seemed to her impossible. They 
 might even refuse to admit her. To write to Aleks^i Alek- 
 saudrovitcli and ask permission of him, seemed to her pain- 
 ful even to think of. She could be calm only when she did 
 not think of her husband ; and yet she could not feel con- 
 tented to see her son at a distance. 
 
 She had too many kisses, too many caresses, to give him. 
 Serozha's old nurse might have been an assistance to her, 
 but she no longer lived with Aleksi Aleksandrovitch. 
 
 On the third da}-, having learned of Aleks6i Aleksandro- 
 vitch's relations with the Countess Lidia Ivanovna, Anna 
 decided to write her a letter composed with the greatest care, 
 in which she would tell her frankly that the permission to see 
 her son depended on her. She knew that if her husband 
 found it out, he, in his part of magnanimous man, would not 
 refuse her. 
 
 It was a cruel blow to have her messenger return without an 
 answer. She had never felt so wounded, so humiliated ; and 
 yet she had to acknowledge that the countess was right. Her 
 grief was all the keener because she had to bear it alone. 
 She could not and did not wish to confide it to Vronsky. She 
 knew that though he was the chief cause of her unhappiness, 
 he would look upon her meeting with her son as of little 
 account ; and the mere thought of the unsympathetic tone in 
 which he would speak of it, made him seem odious to her. 
 And the fear that she might come to hate him was the worst
 
 534 AXSiA KAEtiNINA. 
 
 of all. Therefore she made up her mind to hide from him 
 her action in regard to the child. 
 
 She stayed at home all day long and racked her brain to 
 think of other ways of meeting her son, and finally she de- 
 cided upon the most painful of all, to write directly to her 
 husband. Just as she was beginning her letter, Lidia Ivan- 
 ovna's reply was brought. She accepted it with silent resig- 
 nation ; but the unfriendliness, the sarcasm, that she read 
 between the lines, pierced deep into her soul. 
 
 " What cruelty! What hypocrisy!" she said to herself. 
 " They want to insult me and torment the child. I will not 
 let them do so. She is worse than 1 am ; at least, I do not 
 lie." 
 
 She immediately decided to go on the morrow, which was 
 Serozha's birthday, directly to her husband's house to see 
 the child, no matter what it cost in fees to the servants, and 
 to put an end to the ugly network of lies with which they 
 were surrounding the innocent child. 
 
 She went to a neighboring shop and purchased some toys, 
 and thus she formed her plan of action : she would start early 
 in the morning before Aleksei Aleksandrovitch was up ; she 
 would have the money in her hand all read}' to bribe the 
 Swiss and the other servants to let her go up stairs without 
 raising her veil, under the pretext of laying on Serozha's bed 
 some presents sent by his god- father. As to what she should 
 say to her son, she could not form the least idea ; she could 
 not make an\- preparation for that. 
 
 The next morning, at eight o'clock, Anna got out of her 
 hired carriage and rang the door-bell of her former home.' 
 
 " Go and see what is wanted! It's some baruina," said 
 Kapitonuitch, in overcoat and galoshes, as he looked out of the 
 window and saw a lady closely veiled standing on the porch. 
 The Swiss's assistant, a young man whom Anna did not 
 know, had scarcely opened the door before Anna thrust a 
 three-ruble note into his hand. 
 
 " Serozha Sergei Aleksievitch," she stammered; then 
 she went one or two steps down the hall. 
 
 The Swiss's assistant examined the note, and stopped the 
 visitor at the inner glass door. 
 
 " Whom do you wish to see?" he asked. 
 
 She did not hear his words, and made no reply. 
 
 Kapitonuitch. noticing the stranger's confusion, came out 
 from his office and asked her what she wanted.
 
 ANXA KAMSXIXA. 535 
 
 " I come from Prince Skorodumof to see Serge" i Aleksie"- 
 vitch." 
 
 " He is not up yet," replied the Swiss, looking sharply at 
 the veiled lady. 
 
 Anua had never dreamed that she should be so troubled by 
 the sight of this house where she had lived nine 3*ears. One 
 after another, sweet and cruel memories arose in her mind, 
 and for a moment she forgot why she was there. 
 
 "Will you wait?" asked the Swiss, helping her to take 
 off her shubka. When he saw her face, he recognized her, 
 and bowed profoundly. " Will 3 our ladyship 1 be pleased to 
 enter?" he said to her. 
 
 She tried to speak ; but her voice failed her, and with an 
 entreating look at the old servant she rapidly flew up the 
 stairs. Kapitonuitch tried to overtake her, and followed 
 after her, catching his galoshes at every step. 
 
 " Perhaps his tutor is not dressed yet ; I will speak to 
 him." 
 
 Anna kept on up the stairs which she knew so well, but she 
 did not hear what the old man said. 
 
 kk This way. Excuse it if all is in disorder. He sleeps in 
 the front room now," said the Swiss, out of breath. " Will 
 your ladyship be good enough to wait a moment? I will go 
 and see." And opening the high door, he disappeared. 
 
 Anna stopped and waited. 
 
 u He has just waked up," said the Swiss, coming back 
 through the same door. 
 
 And as he spoke, Anna heard the sound of a child yawn- 
 ing, and merely by the sound of the yawn she recognized her 
 son and seemed to see him alive before her. 
 
 " Let me go in let me ! " she stammered, and hurriedly 
 pushed through the door. 
 
 At the right of the door was a bed, and on the bed a child 
 was sitting up in his little open nightgown ; his little body 
 was leaning forward, and he was just finishing a yawn and 
 stretching himself. His lips were just closing into a sleepy 
 smile, and he fell back upon his pillow still smiling. 
 
 '" Serozha ! " she murmured as she went towards him. 
 
 Every time since their separation that she had felt an 
 access of love for the absent son, Anna looked upon him as 
 still a child of four, the age when he had been most charm- 
 ing. Now he no longer bore any resemblance to him whom 
 
 1 Vasha prevoskhodttelstvo, literally, Your Excellency.
 
 536 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 she had left : he had grown tall and thin. How long his face 
 seemed ! How short his hair ! What long arms ! How he 
 had changed! But it was still the same, the shape of his 
 head, his lips, little slender neck, and his broad shoulders. 
 
 " Serozha ! " she whispered in the child's ear. 
 
 He raised himself on his elbow, turned his frowzy head 
 around, and trying to put things together, opened wide his 
 C3'es. For several seconds he looked with an inquiring face 
 at his mother, who stood motionless before him. Then he 
 suddenly smiled with joy, and with his eyes still half-closed 
 in sleep, he threw himself, not back upon his pillow, but into 
 his mother's arms. 
 
 "Serozha, my dear little bo} T ! " she stammered, choking 
 with tears, and throwing her arms around his plump body. 
 
 " Mamma ! " he whispered, cuddling into his mother's arms 
 so as to feel their encircling pressure. Smiling sleepily, he 
 took his hand from the head of the bed and put it on his 
 mother's shoulder and climbed into her lap, having that warm 
 breath of sleep peculiar to children, and pressed his face to 
 his mother's neck and shoulders. 
 
 "I knew," he said, opening his eyes; "to-day is my 
 birthday ; I knew that you would come. I am going to get 
 up now." 
 
 And as he spoke he fell asleep again. Anna devoured him 
 with her e3~es. She saw how he had changed during her 
 absence. She would scarcely have known his long legs com- 
 ing below his nightgown, his hollow cheeks, his short hair 
 curled in the neck where she had so often kissed it. She 
 pressed him to her heart, and the tears prevented her from 
 speaking. 
 
 " What are you crying for, mamma?" he asked, now en- 
 tirely awake. "What makes you cry?" he repeated, read}' 
 to weep himself. 
 
 "I? I will not cry any more it is for joy. It is all 
 over now," said see, drying her tears and turning around. 
 ' Nu! go and get dressed," she added, after she had grown 
 a little calmer, but still holding Serozha's hand. She sat 
 down near the bed on a chair which held the child's clothing. 
 "How do you dress without me? How" - she wanted 
 to speak simply and gayly, but she could not, and again she 
 turned her head away. 
 
 " I don't wash in cold water any more ; papa has forbidden 
 it : but YOU have not seen Vasili Lukitch ? Here he comes.
 
 ANNA KAREN1NA. 537 
 
 But you are sitting on my things." And Serozha laughed 
 heartily. She looked at him and smiled. 
 
 "Mamma! diishenka, golubtcltika ! " [dear little soul, dar- 
 ling'], he cried again, throwing himself into her arms, as 
 though he now better understood what had happened to him, 
 as he saw her smile. 
 
 " Take it off," said he, pulling off her hat. And seeing 
 her head bare, he began to kiss her again. 
 
 " What did you think of me? Did you believe that I was 
 dead?" 
 
 " I never believed it." 
 
 " You believed me alive, my precious?" 
 
 " I knew it! I knew it! " he replied, repeating his favor- 
 ite phrase ; and seizing the hand which was smoothing his 
 hair, he pressed the palm of it to his little mouth, and be- 
 gan to kiss it. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 VASILI LUKITCH, meantime, not at first knowing who this 
 lady was, but learning from their conversation that it was 
 Serozha's mother, the woman who had deserted her husband, 
 and whom he did not know, as he had not come into the 
 house till after her departure, was in great perplexity. Ought 
 he to tell Aleksei Aleksandrovitch? On mature reflection 
 he came to the conclusion that his duty consisted in going to 
 dress Serozha at the usual hour, without paying any atten- 
 tion to a third person his mother, or any one else. But 
 as he reached the door and opened it, the sight of the 
 caresses between the mother and child, the sound of their 
 voices and their words, made him change his mind. He 
 shook his head, sighed, and quietly closed the door. "I 
 will wait ten minutes longer," he said to himself, coughing 
 slightly, and wiping his eyes. 
 
 There was great excitement among the servants ; they all 
 knew that the baruina had come, and that Kapitonuitch had 
 let her in. and that she was in the child's room ; the}" knew, 
 too, that their master was in the habit of going to Serozha 
 every morning at nine o'clock : each one felt that the hus- 
 band and wife ought not to meet, that it must be prevented. 
 
 Kornei, the valet, went down to the Swiss to ask why 
 Anna had been let in ; and finding that Kapitonuitch had 
 taken her upstairs, he reprimanded him severely. The Swiss
 
 538 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 maintained an obstinate silence till the valet declared that 
 he deserved to lose his place, when the old man jumped at 
 him, and shaking his fist in his face, said, 
 
 "Da/ Vot, you would not have let her in yourself? 
 You've served here ten years, and had nothing but kind- 
 ness from her, but you would have said, ' Now, go away 
 from here ! ' You know what policy is, you sly dog. What 
 you don't forget is to rob your master, and to carry off his 
 raccoon-skin shubas ! " 
 
 " Soldier ! " replied KorneM, scornfull}*, and he turned 
 towards the nurse, who was coming in just at this moment. 
 " What do you think, Marya Yefimovna? He has let in Anna 
 Arkadyevna, without saying anything to anybody, and just 
 when Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, as soon as he is up, will be 
 going to the nursery." 
 
 " What a scrape ! what a scrape ! " said the nurse. " But, 
 Korne"i Vasilyevitch, find some way to keep your master, 
 while I run to warn her, and get her out of the way. What 
 a scraps ! " 
 
 W T hen the nurse went into the child's room, Serozha was 
 telling his mother how Nddenka and he had fallen when 
 sliding down a hill of ice, and turned three somersaults. 
 Anna was listening to the sound of her son's voice, looking 
 at his face, watching the play of his features, feeling his 
 little arms, but not hearing a word that he said. She must 
 go away, she must leave him ; this alone she understood and 
 felt. She had heard Vasili Lukitch's steps, and his little 
 discreet cough, as he came to the door, and now she heard 
 the nurse coming in ; but unable to move or to speak, she 
 remained as fixed as a statue. 
 
 " Baruina! Golubtcliika ! " [mistress, darling], said the 
 nurse, coming up to Anna, and kissing her hands and her 
 shoulders. " God sent this joy for our birthday celebra- 
 tion ! You are not changed at all." 
 
 " Ach! nurse [iiyanya], my dear; I did not know that 
 3'ou were in the house," said Anna, coming to herself. 
 
 " I don't live here ; I live with my daughter. I came to 
 give my best wishes to Serozha, Anna Arkadyevna, golub- 
 tchika." 
 
 The nurse suddenly began to weep, and to kiss Anna's 
 hand. 
 
 Serozha, with bright, joyful eyes, and holding his mother 
 with one hand and his nurse with the other, was dancing in
 
 KARENINA. 539 
 
 his little, bare feet on the carpet. His old nurse's tender- 
 ness towards his mother was delightful to him. 
 
 Mr.mma, she often comes to see me; and when she 
 comes" he began, but he stopped short when he perceived 
 that the nurse whispered something in his mother's ear, and 
 that his mother's face assumed an expression of fear, and at 
 the same time, of shame. 
 
 Anna went to him. 
 
 " My precious ! " she said. 
 
 She could not say the word "farewell" [jpnxsftcftdS] ; but 
 the expression of her face said it, and he understood. 
 
 " My precious, precious Kutik ! " she said, calling him by 
 a pet name which she used when he was a baby. " You will 
 not forget me ; you " but she could not say another word. 
 
 Only then she began to remember the words which she 
 wanted to say to him, but now it was impossible to say them. 
 Serozha, however, understood all that she would have said ; 
 he understood that she was unhappy, and that she loved him. 
 He even understood what the nurse whispered in her ear ; he 
 heard the words " always at nine o'clock," and he knew that 
 they referred to his father, and that his mother must not 
 meet him. He understood this, but one thing he could not 
 understand : why did her face express fear and shame? . . . 
 She was not to blame, but she was afraid of him, and seemed 
 ashamed of something. He wanted to ask a question which 
 would have explained this circumstance, but he did not dare : 
 he saw that she was in sorrow, and he pitied her. He silently 
 clung close to her, and then he whispered, "Don't go yet! 
 He will not come yet awhile." 
 
 His mother pushed him away from her a little, in order to 
 see if he understood the meaning of what he had said, and 
 in the frightened expression of his face she perceived that 
 he not only spoke of his father, but seemed to ask her how 
 he ought to think about him. 
 
 "Serozha, my dear," she said, "love him; he is better 
 than I am ; and I have been wicked to him. When you 
 have grown up, you will understand." 
 
 ' No one is better than you," cried the child, with sobs of 
 despair ; and, clinging to his mother's shoulders, he squeezed 
 her with all the force of his little trembling arms. 
 
 " Dushenlca. my darling ! " stammered Anna ; and, bursting 
 into tears, she sobbed like a child, even as he sobbed. 
 
 At this moment the door opened, and Vasili Lukitch came
 
 540 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 in. Steps were heard at the other door ; and, in a frightened 
 whisper, he exclaimed, " He is coming," and gave Anna her 
 hat. 
 
 Serozha threw himself on the bed, sobbing, and covered 
 his face with his hands. Anna took them away to kiss yet 
 once again his tear-stained cheeks, and then with quick steps 
 hurried from the room. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch met her at 
 the door. When he saw her, he stopped and bowed his 
 head. 
 
 Though she had declared a moment before that he was 
 better than she, the swift glance that she gave him, taking 
 in his whole person, awoke in her only a feeling of hatred 
 and scorn for him, and jealousy on account of her son. She 
 hurriedly lowered her veil, and, quickening her step, almost 
 ran from the room. She had entirety forgotten in her haste 
 the playthings which, on the evening before, she had bought 
 with so much love and sadness ; and she took them back 
 with her to the hotel. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 ALTHOUGH Anna had tried to be prepared beforehand, she 
 did not realize how violently she would be moved at the sight 
 of her son ; when she got back to the hotel again, she could 
 not for a long time understand why she was there. " Yes ; 
 all is over ; I am alone again," she said to herself ; and, 
 without taking off her hat, she threw herself into an easy- 
 chair near the fireplace. And, fixing her eyes on a bronze 
 clock standing on a bracket between two windows, she 
 became absorbed in thought. 
 
 The French maid, whom she had brought from abroad 
 with her, came in to get her orders ; Anna looked at her 
 with surprise, and replied, "By and by." A servant came 
 to announce breakfast : "By and by," she said once more. 
 
 The Italian nurse came in, bringing the child whom she 
 had just dressed ; the little one smik-d when she saw her 
 mother, and beat the air with her little plump hands, like a 
 fish waving its fins ; she pulled at the starched tucks of her 
 embroidered skirt, and reached out her arms to Anna, who 
 could not resist her. She could not help kissing lit r little 
 daughter's fresh cheeks and pretty shoulders, and letting her 
 catch hold of one of her fingers, screaming with delisiht, and 
 jumping ; she could not help taking her in her arms, and
 
 ANNA KARENINA. 541 
 
 trotting her on her knee ; but the sight of this child made 
 her feel clearly that the affection which she felt for it was 
 not the same kind of love that she had for Serozha. Every- 
 thing about this little girl was lovely ; but she did not fill 
 the wants of her heart. 
 
 All the strength of her affection had heretofore centered 
 in her first-born, although he was the child of a man whom 
 she did not love. Her daughter was born under the saddest 
 circumstances, had never received the one hundredth part of 
 the care which she had spent on Serozha. Moreover, the 
 little girl only represented hopes, while Serozha was almost 
 a man, and a lovely man ! He had already begun to struggle 
 with his thoughts and feelings ; he loved his mother, un- 
 derstood her, judged her perhaps, she thought, recalling 
 her son's words ; and now she was separated from him, 
 morally as well as materially ; and she saw no way of reme- 
 dying the situation. 
 
 After she had given the little one back to her nurse, and 
 sent them away, Anna opened a locket containing Serozha's 
 picture at the same age as his sister ; then, taking off her 
 hat, she looked in an album for other pictures of him taken 
 at different periods ; she wanted to compare them, and she 
 took them all out of the album. (5ne was left, the last, the 
 best photograph of him. It represented Serozha astride a 
 chair, in a white frock, a smile on his lips, and a shadow in 
 his eyes ; it was a perfect likeness of his best expression. 
 Holding the album in her little deft hands, whiclx to-day 
 moved with extraordinary effort, she tried with her slender 
 white fingers to take it from its place ; but the photograph 
 stuck, and she could not get at it. There was no paper- 
 cutter on the table, and she took up another photograph at 
 random to push out the card from its place. 
 
 It was a picture of Vronsky, taken in Rome, with long 
 hair and a round felt hat. 
 
 " Da! There he is," she said to herself, and as she looked 
 at him she suddenly remembered that he was the cause of all 
 her present suffering. 
 
 Not once had she thought of him all the morning ; but the 
 sight of this manly and noble face, which she knew and 
 loved so well, brought a flood of affection to her heart. 
 
 " Da! Where is he? Why does he leave me alone a prey 
 to my grief?" she asked with bitterness, forgetting that she 
 herself carefully concealed from him everything concerning
 
 542 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 her son. She sent a message to him, asking him to come to 
 her immediately, and waited, with heavy heart, for the tender 
 words with which he would try to console her. The servant 
 returned to say that Vronsky had a visitor, but that he would 
 come very soon : could she receive him with Prince Yashvin, 
 who had just arrived in Petersburg. "He will not come 
 alone, and he has not seen me since yesterday at dinner," 
 she thought; "and he does not come so that I can speak 
 with him, but he comes with Yashvin." And a cruel thought 
 crossed her mind : " If he no longer loves me ? " 
 
 She went over in her mind all the incidents of the past few 
 days ; she found her terrible thought confirmed by them. 
 The day before he had not dined with her ; they did not have 
 the same room now that they were in Petersburg ; and now 
 he was bringing some one with him as if to avoid being alone 
 with her. 
 
 " But he must tell me this. I must know it. If it is true, 
 I know what I must do," she said, quite beside herself from 
 imagining what would happen if Vronsky's indifference should 
 prove to be true. She began to feel that he did not love her 
 any more ; she imagined herself reduced to despair, and her 
 feelings made her over-excited ; she rang for her maid, went 
 into her dressing-room * and took extreme pains with her 
 dress as though the sight of her toilet and way of dressing 
 her hair would bring back Vronsky's love, if he had grown 
 indifferent. The bell rung before she was ready. 
 
 When she returned to the drawing-room, she saw not 
 Vronsky but Yashvin, looking at Serozha's pictures, which 
 she had left lying on the table. 
 
 "We are old acquaintances," she said to him, going 
 towards him and placing her small hand in Yashvin's enor- 
 mous hand. He was all confusion, and this seemed odd, 
 contrasted with his gigantic form and decided features. 
 "We met last year at the races. Give them to me," she 
 said, snatching her son's photographs from Vronksy who was 
 looking at them, while her eyes blazed at him significantly. 
 " Were the races successful this year? We saw the races 
 at Rome on the Corso. But I believe you do not like life 
 abroad," she added, with a fascinating smile. " I know 
 you, and, although we seldom meet, I know your tastes." 
 
 " I am very sorry for lhat, because my tastes are gener- 
 ally bad," said Yashvin. biting the left side of his moustache. 
 
 After they had talked some little time, Yashviu, seeing
 
 ANNA KARENINA. 543 
 
 Vronsky look at his watch, asked Anna if she expected to 
 be in Petersburg long. Then stooping with his huge back, 
 he picked up his kepi. 
 
 " Probably not long," she replied in some confusion, and 
 looked at Vronsky. 
 
 " Then we shall not meet again? " said Yashvin, turning 
 towards Vronsky. '" "Where are you going to dine?" 
 
 'Come and dine with me," said Anna, with decision ; and, 
 vexed because she could not conceal her confusion whenever 
 her false situation became evident before a stranger, she 
 blushed. " The table here is not good, but you will at least 
 see each other. Of all AlekseVs messmates, you are his 
 favorite." 
 
 " I should be delighted," replied Yashvin, with a smile 
 which proved to Vronsky that he was very much pleased 
 with Anna. Yashvin took leave of them and went away, 
 while Vrouksy lingered behind. 
 
 " Are you going too? " she asked him. 
 
 " I am alread\' late. Go ahead, I will overtake you," 
 he shouted to Yashvin. 
 
 She took his hand, and, without taking her eyes off from 
 him, tried to find something to say to detain him. 
 
 " Wait ; I want to ask you something," and she pressed 
 Vronsky 's hand against her cheek. " Da! did I do wrong 
 to invite him to dinner?" 
 
 " You did quite right," he replied, with a calm smile. 
 
 " Alekse"i, do you feel changed towards me?" she asked, 
 pressing his hand between her own. " Alekse"i, I am tired 
 of staying here. When shall we go away?" 
 
 " Soon, very soon. You can't imagine how our life here 
 weighs upon me too," and he drew away his hand. 
 
 "Nu! go, go away!" she said in an injured tone, and 
 quickly left him. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 WHEN Vronsky came back to the hotel, Anna was not 
 there. They told him that she had gone out with a lady 
 who came to call upon her. This way of disappearing with- 
 out saying where she was going, added to her agitated 
 manner and the harsh tone with which she had taken away 
 her son's photographs from him before Yashvin, made 
 Vronsky wonder. He made up his mind to ask for an ex- 
 planation, and waited in the drawing-room for her return.
 
 544 ANNA KAREN1XA. 
 
 Anna did not come back alone ; she brought with her her 
 old aunt, the Princess Oblonskai'a. She was the lady who 
 had come, and with whom she had been shopping. Without 
 noticing Vronsky's uneasy, questioning manner, Anna be- 
 gan to talk gayly about the purchases she had made in the 
 morning ; but he read a mental strain in her shining eyes, as 
 she glanced at him furtively, and a feverish excitement in 
 her movements which disturbed and troubled him. 
 
 The table was laid for four, and just as they were going to 
 sit down, Tushkievitch was announced. He had come from 
 the Princess Betsy with a message for Anna. 
 
 Betsy sent her excuses for not coming in person to say 
 good-bye to her. She was not well, and asked Anna to 
 come to see her between half -past seven and nine o'clock. 
 Vronsky looked at Anna as if he would draw her attention 
 to the fact that in naming a time she had taken the neces- 
 sary precautions against her meeting anybody ; but Anna 
 did not seem to pay any attention to it. 
 
 " I am very sorry, but I shall not be at liberty exactly 
 between half-past seven and nine," she said with a slight 
 smile. 
 
 " The princess will be very much disappointed." 
 
 " So shall I." 
 
 " I suppose you are going to hear Patti," said Tushkie- 
 vitch." 
 
 "Patti? You give me an idea. I would go certainly, if 
 I could get a loge." 
 
 " I can get you one." 
 
 "I should be very much obliged to you," said Anna; 
 "da! but won't you dine with us?" 
 
 Vronsky shrugged his shoulders slightly ; he did not know 
 what to make of Anna. Why had she brought home the old 
 princess, why was she keeping Tushkievitch to dinner, and 
 above all, why did she ask him for a box? Was it to be 
 thought of for a moment that she, in her position, could go 
 to the opera on a subscription night, when she would meet 
 all her acquaintances there ? He looked at her seriously, but 
 she responded with a half -despairing, half-mocking look, the 
 meaning of which he could not understand. All through 
 dinner Anna was very lively, and seemed to flirt first with 
 Tushkievitch, and then with Yashvin. When the}' rose 
 from the table, Tushkievitch went to engage a box, and 
 Yashvin went down-stairs to smoke with Vronsky ; after
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 545 
 
 some time the latter came upstairs again and found Anna in 
 a light silk dress bought in Paris. It was trimmed with 
 velvet and had an open front. On her head she wore costly 
 white lace, which set off to advantage the striking beauty of 
 her face. 
 
 "Are you really going to the theatre?" he asked, trying 
 to avoid looking at her. 
 
 "Why do you ask me in such a terrified way?" she 
 replied, hurt because he did not look at her. "Why 
 shouldn't I go?" 
 
 She did not seem to understand the meaning of his words. 
 
 " Of course, there is no reason for it," said he, frowning. 
 
 " That is exactly what I said," she replied, not wishing to 
 see the sarcasm of his remark, and calmly putting on a long 
 perfumed glove. 
 
 " Anna, for heaven's sake, what is the matter with you? " 
 he said to her, trying to bring her to her senses, as her hus- 
 band had more than once done in vain. 
 
 " I don't know what you mean." 
 
 " You know very well that you can't go there." 
 
 " Why not? I am not going alone ; the Princess Varvara 
 has gone to dress ; she is going with me." 
 
 " But don't you know ? " he began. 
 
 " Da, I don't want to know anything ! " she said, almost 
 crying. " I don't want to know. Am I sorry for anything 
 I have done ? No, no, no, indeed ; if it were to begin over 
 again, I would begin over again. There is only one thing 
 of any consequence to you and me, and that is to know 
 whether we love each other. Everything else is of no 
 account. Why do we live separate here, and not see each 
 other? Why can't I go where I please? I love you, and 
 everything is right, if your feelings have not changed 
 towards me," she said in Russian, with a peculiar look, 
 which he could not understand; "why don't you look at 
 me?" 
 
 He looked at her, he saw her beauty, and the dress which 
 was so becoming to her ; but this beauty and this elegance 
 were pi'ecisely what irritated him. 
 
 "You know very well that nry feelings cannot change; 
 but I beg you not to go out," he said again in French, in 
 a beseeching voice, but with a cold look. 
 
 She did not hear his words, but noticed only the coldness 
 of his look, and replied with an injured air,
 
 546 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 ' ' And I for my part beg you to explain why I should not 
 go." 
 
 '' Because it may cause you" He was confused. 
 
 " I don't understand at all : Tushkie'vitch, n'est pas compro- 
 mettant, and the Princess Varvara is no worse than anybody 
 else. Ah ! here she is ! " 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 FOR the first time in his life Vronsky felt towards Anna a 
 sensation of vexation bordering on auger. What vexed him 
 above all was that he could not explain the reason of his 
 vexation ; that he could not tell Anna, frankly, that to ap- 
 pear at the opera in such a toilet, with a person like the 
 princess, was equivalent to throwing down the gauntlet to 
 public opinion ; to confessing herself a lost woman, and, con- 
 sequently, renouncing all hope of 'ever going into society 
 again. 
 
 "Why did she not understand it? What has happened 
 to her?" he asked himself. He felt at one and the same 
 time a lessened esteem for Anna's character and a greater 
 sense of her beauty. 
 
 Going back to his room, he sat down, full of anxiety, be- 
 side Yashvin, who was drinking a mixture of seltzer water 
 and brandy, with his long legs stretched out on a chair. 
 Vronsky followed his example. 
 
 "You spoke of Lanskof's horse? He is a fine animal, 
 and I advise you to buy him," began Yashvin, glancing at 
 bis comrade's solemn face. His crupper is tapering, but 
 what legs ! and what a head ! You couldn't do better." 
 
 " I think I should do well to take him," replied Vronsky. 
 
 All the while he was talking with his friend he never 
 ceased thinking of Anna, and involuntarily listened to what 
 was going on in the corridor, and kept looking at the clock 
 on the mantel. 
 
 "Anna Arkadyevna left word that she had gone to the 
 theatre," a servant announced. 
 
 Yashvin poured out another little glass of cognac and 
 seltzer, drank it, and rose, buttoning up his uniform. 
 
 "Well, shall we go?" said he, half smiling beneath his 
 long mustachios, and showing that he understood the cause 
 of Vronsky's vexation, without attaching much importance 
 to it.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 547 
 
 " I am not going," replied Vronsky, gloornil3 r . 
 
 "I promised, so 1 must go; good-bye! If 3"ou should 
 change your mind, take Krasiusky's seat, which will be unoc- 
 cupied," he added, as he went out. 
 
 " No ; I have some work to do." 
 
 " A man has trials with a wife, but with a not-wife it is 
 still worse," thought Yashvin as he left the hotel. 
 
 When Vronsky was alone, he rose, and began to walk up 
 and down the room. 
 
 "/}/ To-night? The fourth subscription night. My 
 brother Yegor will be there with his wife, and with my 
 mother, probably ; in fact, all Petersburg will be there ! 
 Now she is going in, and is taking off her shuba, and there 
 she is in the light ! Tushkivitch, Yashvin, the Princess 
 Varvara ! What am I to do? am 1 afraid? or have I given 
 Tushkievitch the right to protect her? However you may 
 look at it, it is absurd, it is absurd ! Why should she place 
 me in such a ridiculous position?" he said, with a gesture 
 of despair. This movement jostled the stand on which the 
 tray with the cognac and seltzer water was placed, and 
 nearly knocked it over ; in trying to rescue it, he upset it 
 entirely ; he rang, and gave a kick to the table. 
 
 " If you want to remain in my service, don't forget what 
 you have to do," said he to the valet who appeared. 
 "Don't let this happen again; why didn't you take these 
 things away before?" 
 
 The valet, knowing his innocence, wished to justify him- 
 self; but one glance at the barin showed him that it was best 
 for him to be silent ; and, making a hasty excuse, he got 
 down upon the floor to pick up the broken glasses and water 
 bottles. 
 
 "That is not your business; call a waiter, and get my 
 coat." 
 
 Vronsky entered the theatre at half-past nine. The play 
 had begun. 
 
 The Kapelldiener recognized Vronsky, as he took off his 
 shuba, and called him "your Excellency" \_Vashe /Sidtelstvo]. 
 
 The lighted lobby was empty, with the exception of the 
 Kapelldiener and two valets holding shubas, and listening at 
 the doors ; the sound of the orchestra could be heard care- 
 fully accompanying a woman's voice : the door opened as 
 another Kapelldiener, who had charge of seating the spec-
 
 548 ANNA KARENINA. 
 
 tators,' passed through, and the phrase, as it came to an end, 
 readied Vronsky's ears. He could not hear the last part, for 
 the door had closed again ; but from the applause which fol- 
 lowed, he knew that the aria was ended. 
 
 The plaudits still continued as he went into the auditorium, 
 brilliantly lighted with lustres and bronze chandeliers; on the 
 stage, the prima donna, with bare shoulders and covered with 
 diamonds, was bowing and smiling, and, with the assistance 
 of the tenor, who gave her his hand, was bending forward 
 to pick up numerous bouquets. 
 
 A gentleman with carefully oiled hair reached out his arms 
 to hand her a jewel-case, and the whole audience, boxes and 
 parquet, shouted, applauded, and rose to their feet. The 
 Kapelmeixter, fixing his white necktie, came to meet him. 
 Vronsky went forward to the middle of the parquet, stopped 
 and looked through the audience, paying less attention than 
 ever to the stage, the noise, and all this crowd of spectators 
 crammed into the theatre. 
 
 There were the same ladies in the boxes, with the same 
 officers behind them, the same gayly dressed women, the 
 same uniforms, and the same dress coats ; in the gallery the 
 same disorderly crowd ; and in all this closely packed house, 
 perhaps forty people, men and women, represented society. 
 Vronsky's attention was turned towards this oasis. 
 
 The act was just over as Vronsky went towards the first 
 row of seats, and stopped near the railing beside Serpukhov- 
 skoi, who, seeing him at a distance, had beckoned to him 
 with a smile. 
 
 Vronsky had not yet seen Anna, and purposely refrained 
 from looking for her ; but from the direction in which all eyes 
 were turned, he guessed the place where she was to be 
 found. Worse yet, he trembled for fear of seeing Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch ; to his joy the latter was not at the theatre 
 this evening. 
 
 "How unmartial you look," said Serpukhovskoi; "one 
 would take you for a diplomat an artist anybody." 
 
 " Yes ; on my return home I put on citizen's dress," 
 replied Vronsky, slowly taking out his opera-glasses. 
 
 " That is why I envy you ; when I came back to Russia, 
 I must confess that I regretted to put these on again, when 
 I got home from abroad," said he, pointing to his epaulets. 
 " I mourn for my liberty." 
 
 Serpukhovskoi had long since given up trying to push
 
 ANNA KAKENINA. 549 
 
 Vronsky along in his military career, but he continued to 
 have a warm affection for him, and seemed especially friendly 
 towards him on this evening. 
 
 " It is too bad that you lost the first act." 
 
 Vronskv, while listening with one ear, examined the boxes 
 and the first tier of seats, with his opera-glass ; suddenly 
 Anna's head came into view, proud, and strikingly beautiful, 
 in its frame of laces, next a lady in a turban, and a bald- 
 headed old man, who blinked as he gazed through his opera- 
 glass. Anna was in the fifth box, not more than twenty feet 
 from him ; she was seated in the front of the box, turning 
 slightly away, and was talking with Yashvin. Her neck, her 
 beautiful, rich shoulders, the radiance of her eyes and face, 
 all brought her back to him us she had looked that evening 
 at the ball in Moscow. But her beauty no longer inspired 
 hiii) with the same feelings ; there was nothing mysterious 
 about them : so, while more than ever under the sway of her 
 charm, he felt almost hurt to see her so beautiful. She did 
 not look at him, but he felt that she had already seen him. 
 
 When Vronsky again directed his opera-glass towards the 
 box, he saw the Princess Varvara, very red in the face, look- 
 ing frequently with a forced laugh at the next box ; Anna, 
 striking her closed fan against red velvet, was looking away, 
 evidently intending not to notice what was going on about 
 her. Yashvin's face wore the same expression as when a 
 game went against him ; he drew his left mustachio more 
 and more into his mouth, frowned, and looked across into 
 the neighboring box. 
 
 In this box were the Kartasofs. Vronsky knew them, 
 and he knew that Anna, too, had been on friendly terms 
 with them ; Madame Kartasova, a little, thin woman, was 
 standing with her back to Anna, and putting on an opera- 
 cloak, which her husband handed to her ; her face was pale 
 and angry ; she seemed to be expressing her mind very 
 freely about something. Kartasof, a stumpy, bald-headed 
 man, kept looking at 'Anna, and trying to calm his wife. 
 
 When Madame Kartasova left the box, her husband lin- 
 gered, trying to catch Anna's eye, to bow to her; but she 
 evidently did not wish to notice him, and leaned back to 
 speak to Yashvin, whose shaven head was bent towards her. 
 Kartasof went out without having bowed, and the box was 
 left empty. 
 
 Vrousky did not understand the meaning of this little
 
 550 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 scene, but he felt perfectly sure that Anna had been morti- 
 fied ; he saw by the expression of her face that she was 
 summoning all her strength to keep up her part to the end, 
 and to appear perfectly calm. Those who knew nothing of 
 her history, who could not hear her old friends' expressions 
 of indignation at her appearing in this way, in all the 
 splendor of her beauty and of her dress, would not have 
 suspected that this woman was undergoing the same feelings 
 of shame as a malefactor at the pillory. 
 
 Vronsky, deeply troubled, went to his brother's box, 
 hoping to learn something about the matter. He intention- 
 ally crossed the parquet, on the side opposite to Anna's box, 
 and as he went, ran across his old colonel, who was talking 
 with two of his acquaintances. Vronsky heard the Kare- 
 nius' name spoken, and noticed that the colonel hastened to 
 call to him aloud, while he gave his friends a significant 
 look. 
 
 "Ah! Vronsky! When shall we see you again in the 
 regiment? we shan't ask your permission to give you a ban- 
 quet. You are ours, every inch of you," said the colonel. . 
 
 " I shan't have the time now. I am awfully sorry," 
 replied Vronsk}', going rapidly up the steps which led to his 
 brother's box. 
 
 The old countess, his mother, with her little steel-colored 
 curls* was in the box. Varia and the young Princess Soro- 
 kina were walking together in the lobby. As soon as she saw 
 her brother-in-law, Varia went back to her mother with her 
 companion, and then, taking Vronsky's arm, broached the 
 subject which concerned him. She showed more excitement 
 than he had ever seen in her. 
 
 " I think it is dastardly and vile ; Madame Kartasova had 
 no right to do so. Madame Karenina" she began. 
 
 "But what is- the matter? I don't know what you 
 mean." 
 
 " What? you haven't heard anything about it?" 
 
 " You know very well that I should be the last person to 
 know anything of the kind." 
 
 "Is there a more wicked creature in the world than this 
 Madame Kartasova ! " 
 
 " But what has she done? " 
 
 "My husband told me about it: she insulted Madame 
 Rare" lina. Her husband began to speak across to her from 
 his box, and Madame Kartasova made a scene about it.
 
 ANXA A'AJIJ-:\1XA. 551 
 
 The}' say she said something very offensive in a loud voice, 
 and went out.*' 
 
 " Count, your maman is calling you," said the young Prin- 
 cess Sorokiua, opening the door of the box. 
 
 'I have been waiting for you all this time," said his 
 mother to him, with a sarcastic smile; "we never see any- 
 thing of you now." 
 
 The son felt that she could not conceal a smile of satisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 " Good evening, maman. I am coming to see you," he 
 replied, coolly. 
 
 " AVhat, I hope you are not going faire la cour a Madame 
 K<(renina" [to pay court to Madame Kare*mna], she added, 
 when the young Princess Sorokina was out of hearing ; "elle 
 fjit sensation. On oublie la Patti pour elle" [she is making a 
 sensation. Patti is forgotten for her]. 
 
 " Maman, I have begged you not to speak to me about 
 her," he replied, gloomily. 
 
 "f only say what everybody is saying." 
 
 Vronsky did not reply ; and after exchanging a few words 
 with the young princess, he went out. He met his brother 
 at the door. 
 
 "Ah, Alekse"i ! " said his brother, "how abominable! 
 She is a silly thing, nothing more. I am going to see Mad- 
 ame Kare'nina. Let us go together." 
 
 Vronsky did not listen ; he ran hastily down the steps, 
 feeling that he ought to do something, but knew not what it 
 was. 
 
 Stirred with anger, furious at the false position in which 
 Anna had placed them both, he nevertheless was full of pity 
 for her. 
 
 As he went from the parquet towards Anna's loge, he saw 
 Stremof leaning on the box, talking with her. 
 
 "There are no more tenors," he said; " la moule en est 
 brise" [the mould is broken]. 
 
 Vronsky bowed to her, and stopped to speak with Stremof. 
 
 " You came late, it seems to me, and you lost the best 
 aria," s;iid Anna to Vronsky, in a way which seemed to him 
 scornful. 
 
 " I am not a very good judge," he replied, looking at her 
 severely . 
 
 "Like Prince Yashvin," she said, smiling, "who thinks 
 Patti sings too loud."
 
 552 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 "Thank you," she said, taking the programme that 
 Vronsky passed to her, iu her little hand, encased in a long 
 glove ; and at the same moment her beautiful face quivered ; 
 she rose and went to the back of the box. 
 
 The last act had hardly begun, when Vronsk}-, seeing 
 Anna's box empty, rose, left the parquet, and went back to 
 the hotel. 
 
 Anna had also returned ; Yronsky found her just as she 
 was at the theatre, sitting in the first chair she had come to, 
 near the wall, looking straight before her. When she saw 
 Vronsky enter, she glanced at him without moving. 
 
 "Anna," he said. 
 
 "It is you, you who are the cause of it all!" she ex- 
 claimed, rising, with tears of auger, and despair in her voice. 
 
 "I begged you, I implored you, not to go ; I knew that 
 it would be unpleasant to you." 
 
 "Unpleasant!" she exclaimed; "it was horrible! If I 
 should live a hundred years, I shouldn't forget it. She said 
 that it was a disgrace to sit near me." 
 
 " She was a fool to say such a thing ; but why did you 
 run the risk of hearing it; why did you expose yourself?" 
 
 " I hate your calm way. You should never have driven 
 me to this ; if you loved me " 
 
 " Anna ! what has my love to do with this ? " 
 
 "Yes, if you loved me as I love you, if you suffered as 
 I " she said, looking terrified. 
 
 He pitied her and protested his love, because he saw that 
 it was the only way to calm her ; but in the bottom of his 
 heart he was angry with her. 
 
 She, on the contrary, drank in his expi'essions of love, 
 which he thought idle to repeat, and gradually became her- 
 self again. 
 
 Two days later they left for the country, completely 
 reconciled.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 553 
 
 PART VI. 
 I. 
 
 DARYA ALEKSANDROVNA accepted the proposition which 
 the Levins had made her, to come with her children and 
 spend the summer at Pokrovsky ; for her place, Yergushovo, 
 was falling to ruin. Stepan Arkadyevitch, who was him- 
 self detained by business at Moscow, heartily approved of 
 this arrangement, and expressed much regret that lie could 
 come to them only for a day or two. Besides the Oblonskys 
 and their troop of children, the Levins had with them the 
 old princess, who considered her presence near her daughter 
 at this particular time indispensable ;' they had also Varenka, 
 Kitty's Soden friend, and Serge"! Ivanovitch, who alone 
 among this host at Pokrovsky represented the Levin side 
 of the family, and even he was but partly a Levin. Kon- 
 stantin, though strongly attached to all those who lived be- 
 neath his roof, discovered within himself a slight longing 
 for his old ways, which proved that the " Shcherbatsky ele- 
 ment," as he called it, was somewhat overpowering. The 
 old house, so long deserted, had now scarcely an unoccupied 
 room. Each day, before seating herself at the table, the 
 princess would count the guests, to make sure that there 
 were not thirteen ; while Kitty, like an excellent house- 
 keeper, devoted herself to providing chickens and ducks for 
 the satisfaction of the various appetites of young and old, 
 made keen by the country air. 
 
 The family were at table, and the children were planning 
 to go out and hunt for mushrooms with the governess and 
 Varenka, when, to the great astonishment of all, Serge"! 
 Ivanovitch evinced a desire to join the expedition. 
 
 ; ' Allow me to go with you," said he, addressing Varenka. 
 " I am very fond of getting mushrooms ; I think it is a very 
 fine occupation." 
 
 *' With pleasure," she answered, blushing. 
 
 Kitty exchanged looks with Dolly. This proposition con- 
 firmed an idea which had engrossed them for some time. 
 
 After dinner the two brothers chatted over their coffee, 
 but Sergei Ivanovitch watched the door through which the
 
 554 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 children woukl have to pass out on their way to the field, 
 and as soou as he saw Yarenka in her linen dress, with a 
 white kerchief over her head, he interrupted the conversa- 
 tion, swallowed the last drop in his cup, and exclaimed, 
 
 " I am coming I am coming, Varvara Andrevua ! " 
 
 " What do you think of my Varenka? Is she not charm- 
 ing?" said Kitty to her husband, loud enough to be heard 
 bv Sergei Ivauovitdi. "And how lovely she is ! Perfectly 
 lovely ! " 
 
 " You constantly forget your condition, Kitty. You ought 
 not to shout so," interrupted the princess, coming hastily 
 through the way. 
 
 On hearing Kitty's voice and her mother's reproof, Varenka 
 quickly retraced her steps. Her face was animated, blush- 
 ing, disturbed, because she felt that there was something 
 unusual going on. Kitty kissed her, and mentally bestowed 
 a benediction. 
 
 "I shall be very glad if a certain thing comes to pass," 
 she said to her, in a whisper. 
 
 "Are you coming with us?" asked the young girl of 
 Levin, to hide her embarrassment. 
 
 " Yes, as far as the barns ; I have some new carts to 
 examine. And you where shall I find you?" he asked 
 his wife. 
 
 " Upon the terrace." 
 
 II. 
 
 THIS terrace was a favorite resort of the ladies after din- 
 ner, and to-day a very important matter was under consider- 
 ation. Besides the usual manufacture of various articles 
 destined for the infant wardrobe, certain sweetmeats were 
 being concocted after a process used by the Shcherbatskys, 
 but unknown to the old Agafya Mikhailovna. Flushed, 
 with tumbled hair, and with her sleeves rolled up to the 
 elbow, she held the pan of sweetmeats above a small porta- 
 ble stove, in very ill humor, inwardly registering a vow that 
 the raspberry should burn. The old princess, author of this 
 new concoction, and feeling herself abused because she was 
 not allowed to superintend it. surveyed these actions of the 
 housekeeper with a side glance, at the same time talking with 
 an indifferent air to her daughters. The conversation of the 
 three ladies fell upon Varenka, and Kitty, not wishing to be
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 555 
 
 understood by Agafya Mikhuflovna, spoke in French. She 
 hoped to learn that Sergei Ivauovitch had declared himself. 
 
 What do you think of it, mamma?" 
 
 " I think he can consider himself the best match in Russia ; 
 he is no longer in his first youth; I know but as for 
 her, she is an excellent person, but he might" 
 
 " But think, mamma ! Sergei Ivanovitch, with his position 
 in the world, has no need to marry for family or fortune ; 
 what he needs is some sweet, intelligent, loving }"oung girl. 
 Oh, that would be so nice ! When they come in from their 
 walk, I shall read it all in their eves ! What do vou say to 
 it, Dolly?" 
 
 " Do not get so excited," resumed the princess. 
 
 "Mamma, how did papa ask you to marry him?" said 
 Kitty suddenly, proud, in her position as married woman, to 
 be able to approach important subjects with her mother as 
 an equal. 
 
 " Very simply," answered the princess, her face brighten- 
 ing at the remembrance. 
 
 ' k You loved him before he spoke ? " 
 
 " Certainty. Do you suppose that you have invented 
 something new ? It was decided, as it always is, by looks 
 and smiles. I doubt if Kostia said anything so very partic- 
 ular to you." 
 
 " Oh ! he he wrote his declaration with a bit of chalk. 
 How long it seems since then, already ! " 
 
 " I've been thinking," began Kitty, after a silence, during 
 which the three ladies had been preoccupied with the same 
 thoughts. " Ought not Sergei Ivanovitch to be warned that 
 Varenka has had a first love ? " 
 
 " You imagine that all men attach as much importance to 
 that as your husband," said Dolly. " I am convinced that 
 the remembrance of Vronsky torments him still ! " 
 
 " It does," said Kitty, with a pensive look. 
 
 " Why should that disquiet him?" asked the princess, dis- 
 posed to resent the inference that her maternal watchfulness 
 seemed to be called in question. " Vronsky did make love 
 to you ; but what young girl escapes that?" 
 
 "How fortunate for Kitty that Anna appeared upon the 
 scene," said Dolly; "and how the rdles are changed! 
 Anna was happy then, while Kitty thought herself to be 
 pitied. I've often thought of it." 
 
 "It is quite useless to think of that heartless woman, "
 
 556 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 exclaimed the princess, who was not resigned to having 
 Levin for her son-in-law instead of Vronsky. 
 
 " Yes, indeed; and as for me, I do not wish to think of 
 her at all." 
 
 " Whom do you wish not to think about?" asked Levin, 
 appearing upon the terrace. No one answered, and he did 
 not repeat his question. 
 
 " I am sorry to disturb your tte-d,-tete ," said he, vexed to 
 find that he had interrupted a conversation which they were 
 unwilling to continue in his presence ; and for a second he 
 found himself in sympathy with the old servant, furious at 
 having to submit to the dominion of the Shcherbatskys. 
 
 Nevertheless, he approached Kitty with a smile. 
 
 li Nu! Are you coming to meet the children? I have 
 ordered the horses. Will you join us, Princess?" 
 Levin could not bring himself to call the princess " Ma- 
 man," as his brothers-in-law did, although he loved and 
 respected her ; it seemed to him like disloyalty to the memory 
 of his own mother. This fancy annoyed the princess. 
 
 "Then I will walk," said Kitty, rising to take her hus- 
 band's arm. 
 
 " JVw/ Agafya Mikhai'lovna, are your preserves success- 
 ful? Is the new method good?" asked Levin, smiling at 
 the housekeeper in his desire to cheer her. 
 
 "Perhaps they're good; but, in my opinion, much over- 
 done." 
 
 "At least it will prevent their spoiling, Agafya Mikha'i- 
 lovna," said Kitty, divining her husband's intention. " And 
 you know that there is no more in the ice-house. As for 
 your spiced meats, mamma assures me that she has never 
 eaten any better," she added, adjusting, with a smile, the 
 housekeeper's loosened neckerchief. 
 
 "Do not try to console me, baruina," replied Agafya 
 Mikhaflovna, giving Kitty a look of increased sadness. "To 
 see you with him is enough to content me." 
 
 This familiar way of speaking of her master touched Kitty. 
 
 " Come and show us the best places to find mushrooms." 
 
 The old woman raised her head, smiling. The smile 
 seemed to say, "One would gladly guard you from all 
 hatred, if it were possible." 
 
 " Follow my advice, and put over each pot of jelly a 
 round piece of paper soaked in rum, and you will not need 
 ice in order to preserve them," said the princess.
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 557 
 
 III. 
 
 KITTY had observed the momentary discontent which had 
 vividly betrayed itself in her husband's face, and she was 
 very glad to have a moment alone with him. They set out 
 along the dusty road quite bestrewn with corn and grain, 
 and Levin quickly forgot his painful disquietude in the pure 
 and ever fresh pleasure which his dear wife's presence gave 
 him. Without having anything especially to say to her, he 
 yet longed to hear Kitty's voice, to see her eyes, to which 
 her peculiar condition lent an expression unusually sweet 
 and serious. " Lean on me ; it will tire you less." 
 
 " I am so glad to be alone with you for a minute ! I love 
 my family, but yet I miss our winter evenings, when we two 
 were alone together. Do you know what we were talking 
 about when you came ? " 
 
 " About jellies? " 
 
 "Yes; but about marriage proposals, too; about Sergei 
 and Varenka. Have you noticed them? What do you 
 think of it?" added she, turning towards her husband the 
 better to watch his face. 
 
 " 1 don't know what to think. Sergei has always been a 
 marvel to me. You know he loved a young girl once, and 
 she died ; it is one of my childish memories. Since then I 
 believe he ignores the existence of women." 
 
 "But Varenka?" 
 
 "Perhaps I do not know. Sergei is too pure a man. 
 He has no life but the spiritual " 
 
 "You mean that he is incapable of falling in love," said 
 she, expressing her husband's thought in her own way. 
 
 " I do not say that, but he has no weak points, and I 
 envy him that, in spite of my happiness. He does not live 
 for himself ; it is duty which guides him, and so he has a 
 right to be serene and well satisfied." 
 
 "And you? Why should you be dissatisfied with your- 
 self ? " she asked with a smile. 
 
 She knew that her husband's extreme admiration for 
 Serge"! Ivanovitch and his discouragement about himself 
 were connected with a vivid realization of his own happiness 
 and a constant desire to grow better. 
 
 " I am too happy. I have nothing on earth to wish for, 
 except perhaps that you should never go wrong ; and when I
 
 558 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 compare myself with others, especiallj* with my brother, I 
 am conscious of all my inferiority." 
 
 " But aren't you always thinking about your future, about 
 your farming, about your book?" 
 
 " Yes ; superficially, as of a task of which I am trying to 
 rid myself. Ah, if 1 could love my duty as I love you ! It 
 is you who are to blame." 
 
 "Would you exchange with Sergei, love nothing but 
 your duty and the general welfare of mankind ? " 
 
 " No, indeed. The fact is, I am too happy to reason 
 clearly. So you think the proposal will take place to-day, 
 do you?" he asked, after a moment's silence. "Ah, here 
 comes the wagonette to meet us." 
 
 "Kitty, you haven't fatigued yourself?" cried the princess. 
 
 " Not the least in the world, mamma." 
 
 They continued walking. 
 
 IV. 
 
 VARENKA seemed very charming to Sergei Ivanovitch to-day. 
 As he walked beside her there came back to him all that he 
 had heard of her past life, and all the goodness and amiability 
 which he had himself discovered in her. A strange feeling 
 stole into his heart a feeling experienced only once before, 
 long ago in his first youth ; and the joy which the }'oung girl's 
 presence caused him was so keen that, as he put into her 
 basket a huge mushroom which he had just found, their eyes 
 met with a too expressive look. 
 
 " I'm going to hunt mushrooms on my own account," he 
 said, fearing that he should yield like a child to the delight 
 of the moment ; " for I see my efforts are not appreciated." 
 
 " Why should I resist? " he thought, as he left the boun- 
 dary line of the woods and was lost to view among the trees ; 
 and there, as he lit his cigar, he gave himself up to his 
 thoughts. " The affection I have for her has no passion in 
 it. It seems to me it is a mutual inclination which would not 
 fetter my life in the least. My only serious objection to mar- 
 riage is the promise I made myself when Marie died, to remain 
 faithful to her memory." 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch was well aware that this objection related 
 only to thnt poetical rMe which he played in the eyes of the 
 world. No woman, no young girl, could answer better to all 
 that he sought for in the one he should marry. She had the
 
 ANNA KARNINA. 559 
 
 charm of youth without childishness ; was accustomed to 
 society without wishing to shine in it; possessed a lofty re- 
 ligion based upon serious conviction. Moreover, she was 
 poor and without family, and would not, therefore, like Kitty, 
 impose upon her husband a numerous relationship. And this 
 young girl loved him. Modest as he was, he could not avoid 
 seeing it. The difference in age need be no obstacle. Hud 
 not Varenka herself once said that it was only in Russia that 
 a man of fifty was considered old ; in France that dans la 
 force de I'age was considered the vigor of life? Then at 
 forty one must be imjeune homme [a young man]. 
 
 When he caught sight of Varenka's agile, graceful figure 
 between the old birch trees, his heart beat joyously ; and as 
 he tossed away his cigar he went to meet the young girl, 
 determined to offer himself to her. 
 
 V. 
 
 " VARVARA ANDREVNA, when I was very young I made for 
 nryself an ideal of the woman whom I should love, and whom 
 I should be very happy to call niy wife. My life has 
 passed till now without finding her. You alone realize my 
 dream. I love you and offer you my hand." With these 
 words in his heart, Serge"! Ivanovitch looked at Varenka as 
 she knelt on the grass within ten steps of him, defending a 
 mushroom from the attacks of Grisha, to save it for little 
 Maslia. 
 
 " This way, this way; here are quantities, little one," she 
 called in her charming, ringing voice. She did not rise 
 when she saw Koznuishef approaching, but her whole being 
 expressed her joy at seeing him. 
 
 " Did you find any?" she asked, turning her sweet face 
 towards him with a smile. 
 
 " Not any at all," he answered. After pointing out the 
 best places to the children, she rose and joined Serge" i Ivauo- 
 vitch. They walked a few steps in silence. Varenka, stifle.d 
 with emotion, suspected what Koznuishef had in mind. Sud- 
 denly, though not really in the mood for talking, she said 
 almost involuntarily, 
 
 " If you have not found any, it is because there are never 
 as many mushrooms in the woods as along the edge." 
 
 Koznuishef sighed without answering. It displeased him 
 because she spoke about trifles. They continued walking,
 
 560 ANNA KARENINA. 
 
 going further and further from the children. The moment 
 was propitious for coining to an understanding ; and, as Sergei 
 Ivanovitch observed the young girl's disturbed manner and 
 downcast eyes, he felt that he should wrong her if he kept 
 silence. He made an effort to recall his recent thoughts on 
 the subject of marriage ; but instead of the speech which he 
 had prepared, he asked, 
 
 ' What is the difference between a toadstool and a mush- 
 room ? " 
 
 Varenka's lips trembled as she answered, 
 
 " The only difference is in the foot." Both of them felt 
 that this was the end of it. The words which might have 
 united them were not spoken, and the violent emotion which 
 had stirred them died little by little away. 
 
 " The foot of the mushroom reminds one of a black beard 
 badly shaved," said Sergei Ivanovitch calmly. 
 
 "Quite true," answered Varenka, smiling. Then their walk 
 took involuntarily the direction of the children. Varenka was 
 puzzled and hurt, and yet relieved. Sergei Ivanovitch men- 
 tally reviewed his arguments in favor of marriage and found 
 them mistaken. He could not be unfaithful to Marie's 
 memory. 
 
 " Gently, children, gently," cried Levin, as the children 
 sprang towards Kitty with shouts of glee. 
 
 Behind the children came Sergei Ivanovitch and Varenka. 
 Kitty did not need to question them. She knew by their 
 calm and slightly mortified manner, that the hope which she 
 had been nursing would not be realized. 
 
 " That will not happen," she said to her husband as they 
 went in. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE group reassembled on the terrace, while the children 
 took their supper. The consciousness that an important 
 event had occurred, although it was a negative one, weighed 
 upon every one, and in order to cover the general embarrass- 
 ment, they talked with a forced animation. Sergei Ivano- 
 vitch and Varenka seemed like a couple of students who 
 had failed in their examinations. Levin and Kitty, more in 
 love than ever with one another, felt guilty in their happi- 
 ness, as if it were an impolite comment upon the unskilful- 
 ness of those who did not know how to be happy. Stepan
 
 AXNA KAKENIXA. 5ol 
 
 Arkadvevitch and, perhaps, the old prince were expected 
 by the e veiling train. 
 
 "Take my word for it, Alexandre will not come," said the 
 princess. 
 
 " He pretends to think it wrong to disturb the freedom of 
 young married couples." 
 
 "Papa has quite abandoned us ; thanks to this principle, 
 we are not to see him any more. And why does he look 
 upon us as young married people, when we are already an 
 ancient couple? " 
 
 The sound of a carriage in the aveuue interrupted the 
 conversation. 
 
 "It's Stiva ! " exclaimed Levin. "And 1 see some one 
 beside him ; that must be papa. Grisha, run and meet 
 them." 
 
 But Levin was mistaken. Stepan Arkady evitch 's com- 
 panion was a fine, tall fellow, named Vasenka Veslovsky. 
 He wore a Scotch cap, with long floating ribbons, and was a 
 distant relative of the Shcherbatskys, one of the ornaments 
 of society at Moscow and Petersburg. Veslovsky was not 
 in the least disconcerted by the surprise which his appearance 
 caused ; he greeted Levin gayly, reminded him that they had 
 met before, and lifted Grisha into the carriage. Levin fol- 
 lowed on foot. He was put out at the non-arrival of the 
 prince, whom he liked, and still more so at the intrusion of 
 this stranger, whose presence was quite unnecessary. This 
 unpleasant impression increased when he saw Vasenka gal- 
 lantly kiss Kitty's hand, before all the people assembled on 
 the door-steps. 
 
 "Your wife and I are cousins, and old acquaintances," 
 said the young man, pressing Levin's hand a second time. 
 
 ^V/" said Oblonsky, greeting his mother-in-law, and 
 kissing his wife and children. " Is there any game? We've 
 come with murderous intent, Veslovsky and I. How well 
 you look, D61inka ! " said he, kissing his wife's hand, and 
 caressing her affectionately. Levin, who had a few moments 
 before been so happy, witnessed this scene with indignation. 
 
 Whom did those same lips kiss yesterday?" thought he ; 
 " and why is Dolly so pleased, when she does not believe he 
 loves her any longer?" 
 
 He was vexed at the gracious reception given Veslov- 
 sky by the princess. The politeness of Sergei Ivanovitch 
 towards Oblonsky struck him as hypocritical, for he knew
 
 562 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 that his brother had no very high esteem for Stepan Arka- 
 dy evitdb. 
 
 As for Varenka, she seemed to him like some demure 
 nun, capable of making herself pleasing for the sake of a 
 stranger, though she did not dream of marriage. But his 
 displeasure was at its height when he saw Kitty return the 
 smile of this fellow, who apparently considered his visit as 
 a piece of good fortune for every one. The smile would 
 confirm him in this absurd conceit. 
 
 When they all went chatting into the house, he seized the 
 moment to escape. Kitty had observed her husband's ill- 
 humor, and ran after him ; but he shook her off, declaring 
 that he had business to attend to at the office, and disap- 
 peared. His occupations had never seemed more important 
 to him than they did to-day. 
 
 VII. 
 
 ON being summoned to supper, Levin went into the house 
 again ; he found Kitty and Agafya Mikha'ilovna standing on 
 the stairs, consulting over what wines to put on the table. 
 
 "Z)a/ Why all this fuss ? Have things just as usual." 
 
 " No ; Stiva doesn't drink " 
 
 "What is the matter, Kostia?" asked Kitty, trying to 
 detain him ; but, instead of listening, he went his way, 
 taking great strides to the parlor. When there, he was 
 impatient to take part in the conversation. 
 
 "Well, shall we go hunting to-morrow?" asked Stepan 
 Arkady evitch. 
 
 " Do let us go," said Veslovsky, leaning back in his chair, 
 with one of his legs under him. 
 
 " Very willingly ; have you had any hunting this year?" 
 answered Levin, with a false cordiality which Kitty under- 
 stood. " I doubt if we find any woodcock, but snipe are 
 plenty. We shall have to start early ; shall you mind that, 
 Stiva ? " 
 
 "No, indeed; I'm ready to stay awake all night if you 
 like." 
 
 " Ah, yes ; you are quite capable of it," said Dolly, with 
 some irony, " and also of keeping other people awake. I'm 
 not going to eat any supper to-night, I'm going to bed." 
 
 " No, Dolly," exclaimed Stepan Arkadyevitch, going and 
 taking a seat near his wife.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 563 
 
 " I've so many things to tell you about. Do you know 
 Veslovsky has seen Anna? She lives only seventy versts 
 [46.41 miles] away from here ; he is going there when he 
 leaves us, and I intend to go, too." 
 
 "Have you really been to Anna Arkady evna's ?" asked 
 Dolly of Vasenka, who had come up to the ladies, and had 
 seated himself beside Kitty at the supper-table. 
 
 Levin was talking with the princess and Varenka, but he 
 observed that this little group was full of animation.. He 
 imagined that they were talking confidentially, and it seemed 
 to him that his wife's face expressed a deep tenderness as 
 she looked into Vasenka's pleasing face. 
 
 " Their establishment is superb," Veslovsky went on viva- 
 ciously, " and it is delightful to be with them. It isn't my 
 place to judge them." 
 
 " What are their plans?" 
 
 " To pass the winter in Moscow, I believe." 
 
 " It will be charming to meet^there again. "When shall 
 you be there ? " Oblonsky asked the young man. 
 
 " In July." 
 
 " And you? " he asked his wife. 
 
 " When you have gone away, I shall go alone ; that will 
 not disturb 'any one, and I am determined to see Anna. 
 She is a woman whom I both pity and love." 
 
 " Just the thing," answered Stepan Arkadyevitch. " And 
 you, Kitty? " 
 
 'I? Why should I go to see her?" said Kitty ; and the 
 question made her blush with vexation. 
 
 "Do you know Anna Arkadyevna?" asked Veslovsky; 
 " she is a very fascinating woman." 
 
 " Yes," answered Kitty, blushing still more, and with a 
 glance at her husband she rose to join him. "So you are 
 going hunting to-morrow, are you?" she asked him. 
 
 Levin's jealousy at seeing Kitty blush was boundless, and 
 her question seemed to him simply a proof of her interest in 
 the young man. She was evidently in love with him, and 
 wished to have him pleasantly entertained. 
 
 " Certainly," he answered, in a voice so constrained that 
 he himself was horrified at it. 
 
 "I wish you would pass the day with us to-morrow; 
 Dolly has hardly seen her husband yet." 
 
 It was in this way that Levin translated these words. 
 " Do not separate me from him. You may go ; but let me 
 enjoy the enchanting presence of this attractive stranger."
 
 564 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 Vasenka, not suspecting the effect his presence had pro- 
 duced, rose from the table and approached Kitty with an 
 affectionate smile. 
 
 " How does he dare to look at her in that way ? " thought 
 Levin, pale with anger. 
 
 "We are to go hunting to-morrow, are we not?" asked 
 Vdsenka innocently, and again he seated himself across a 
 chair with one leg under him, as his habit was. Levin was 
 wild with jealousy, and already pictured himself in the posi- 
 tion of a deceived husband, whom his wife and her lover 
 were plotting to send away, that they might enjoy each 
 other in peace. 
 
 Nevertheless, he talked with Veslovsky, asked him about 
 his hunting* gear, and promised him with a cordial air that 
 their hunting party should be made up for the succeeding 
 day. The old princess came near putting an end to her son- 
 in-law's torture by advising Kitty to go to bed, when, as if 
 expressly to exasperate l^evin, Vasenka tried to kiss her 
 hand as he bade her good night. 
 
 " That is not the custom with us," she said brusquely, 
 drawing away her hand. 
 
 How had she given this }"oung man the right to take such 
 liberties with her? and how could she be so awkward in 
 showing her disapprobation ? 
 
 Oblonsky had been made good-humored by several glasses 
 of good wine, and a poetic mood came upon him. 
 
 "Why should you go to bed this lovely evening, Kitty? 
 See, the moon is rising ; it is just the time for serenading. 
 Vasenka has a charming voice, and he has brought two new 
 ballads with him which he and Varvara Audrevna might sing 
 tons." 
 
 For a long time after they had all left, Levin sat obsti- 
 nately silent in an easy-chair, while the voices of his guests 
 singing the new ballads reached him from the garden. 
 After vainly questioning him as to the cause of his anno}'- 
 ance, Kitty finished by smilingly asking him whether Ves- 
 lovsky were its cause. 
 
 This question loosened his tongue. He stood up in front 
 of his wife with his eyes flashing under his contracted brows, 
 and his hands pressed against his chest as if to keep down 
 his anger, and in a trembling voice and with a manner which 
 would have been harsh if his face had not expressed such 
 keen suffering, he said, "Don't think me jealous; the word
 
 ANNA KARENINA. 565 
 
 is disgusting to me. Could I be jealous and at the same 
 time believe in you? But 1 am hurt, humiliated, that anyone 
 dares to look at you so." 
 
 " Why, how did he look at me?" asked Kitty, honestly 
 trying to recall the smallest incidents of the evening. She 
 had thought Vasenka's attitude at supper a little familiar, but 
 she dared not acknowledge it. ' You know you are the only 
 person in the world for me. But you would not wish me to 
 shut myself up away from everybody?" 
 
 She had been wounded by this jealousy of his, which 
 spoiled even the most innocent pleasures; but she was ready 
 now to renounce them all for the sake of quieting him. 
 
 " Try to understand how absurd my position is. This 
 fellow is my guest, and if it were not for this silly gallantry, 
 and his habit of sitting on his leg, I should have nothing to 
 reproach him with ; he certainly thinks himself irreproach- 
 able. But I am obliged to seem polite, and " 
 
 " But, Kostia, you exaggerate things." interrupted Kitty, 
 glad at heart to see how passionately he loved her. 
 
 "And \rhen you are an object of worship to me, and we 
 are so happy, that this trashy fellow should have the right 
 after all, he may not be a trashy fellow ; but why should our 
 happiness be at his mercy ? " 
 
 ' Listen, Kostia ; I believe I know what has offended 
 you." 
 
 " Nu da? nu da?" asked Levin, excitedly. 
 
 "You watched us at supper" and she recounted the 
 mysterious conversation which had aroused his suspicions. 
 
 " Katya," cried he, observing his wife's pale, excited face, 
 " I am tiring you ! GolubcJiik, forgive me ! I am a burden 
 to you, Katya ! I am a fool ! How could I torture myself 
 over such a trifle ! " 
 
 " I am sorry for you." 
 
 "For me? for me? How absurd I am; and to punish 
 myself, I intend to heap the most irresistible favors upon 
 this fellow," said Levin, kissing his wife's hands. "You'll 
 see ! " 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Two hunting-wagons were waiting at the door the next 
 morning before the ladies were awake. Laska followed the 
 coachman, all alive with excitement, quite understanding
 
 566 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 what was on foot, and strongly disapproving the huntsmen's 
 tardiness. Vasenka Veslovsky was the first to appear, in a 
 green blouse, with a belt of fragrant Russia leather, shod in 
 handsome new boots, his Scotch cap, with ribbons, on his 
 head, and an old-fashioned English gun in his hand. 
 
 Laska sprang towards him for a greeting, and to ask in 
 her way if the others were coming ; but, finding that she was 
 not understood, she returned to her post, and waited with 
 bent head and pricked-up ears. At last the door opened 
 noisily, and let out Krak, the pointer, followed by his master, 
 Stepan Arkady ev itch, with gun in hand and cigar in mouth. 
 
 " Down, down, Krak !" exclaimed Oblonsky, gayly, trying 
 to avoid the dog's paws, who, in her joy, caught at his gun 
 and game-pouch. He had on great boots, old trousers, a 
 short overcoat, and * crushed hat ; to make up for this, 
 his gun was of the most modern pattern, and his game-bag 
 as well as his cartridge-box defied all criticism. Vasenka 
 saw that the height of elegance for a huntsman lay in sub- 
 ordinating everything to the hunting apparatus. He made 
 up his mind to profit by this example next time, and looked 
 admiringly at Stepan Arkadyevitch. 
 
 " Nu! Our host is late," remarked he. 
 
 " He has a young wife," said Oblonsky, smiling. 
 
 " And what a charming wife ! He must have gone in to 
 see her again, for I saw him all ready to start." 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch was right. Levin had gone back to 
 Kitty to make her say over again that she forgave him for 
 his absurd behavior of the evening before. Kitty was 
 obliged to declare that she did not begrudge his two days' 
 absence, and promised to send news of her health the next 
 day. This journey was not pleasing to the young wife, but 
 she resigned herself to it cheerfully when she saw her hus- 
 band's interest and animation. 
 
 "A thousand pardons, gentlemen !" cried Levin, hurrying 
 towards his companions. " Has the breakfast been put up? 
 Nu ! all is ready. Down, Laska ! charge ! " 
 
 He was scarcely in the carriage before he was waylaid by 
 the cowherd, who wished to consult him about the heifers ; 
 then by the carpenter, whose erroneous ideas as to the con- 
 struction of a staircase he must correct. 
 
 At last they were off, and Levin was so glad to be free 
 from his domestic cares that he would have asked nothing 
 better than to enjoy his happy mood in silence. Should
 
 AXNA KAEJSNIXA. 567 
 
 they find any game? Would Laska be equal to Krak? 
 bliould he do himself credit as huntsman before this stran- 
 ger? Oblonsky was occupied with similar thoughts. Ves- 
 lovsky was the only voluble one ; and as Levin listened to his 
 prattle, he reproached himself for his injustice of the previous 
 evening. He was a very good fellow, after all, and one 
 could scarcely reproach him, except for his conceit In sup- 
 posing that carefully kept nails and elegant clothes were 
 proofs of incontestable superiority. Beyond this, he was 
 unaffected, gay, and well educated, speaking French and 
 English admirably, and when he was younger, Levin would 
 have made a friend of him. 
 
 They had scarcely gone three versts when Veslovsky 
 missed his pocket-book and his cigars. There were three 
 hundred and seventy rubles in the pocket-book, and he 
 wanted to make sure that he had forgotten and left it at the 
 house. 
 
 u Let me ake your Cossack racer and gallop back to the 
 house ; I can go and come back immediately." 
 
 'Do not trouble yourself," replied Levin ; "my coachman 
 can easily do the errand." 
 
 The coachman was sent in search of the pocket-book, and 
 Levin took the reins. 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Nul what's our line of march? " asked Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch. 
 
 " This is it. We will go directly to the marshes at Gvoz- 
 def, about twenty versts from here, where we are sure to 
 find some game. As we shall arrive there towards evening, 
 we can take advantage of the coolness to do some shooting. 
 We will sleep at a peasant's hut, and to-morrow we will 
 undertake the great marsh." 
 
 " Is there nothing on the way?" 
 
 "Yes ; there are two good places, but it is scarcely worth 
 while. It's too warm." 
 
 Levin intended to reserve the hunting places near the 
 house for his own particular use ; but nothing escaped 
 Oblonsky's experienced eye, and as they were passing a 
 small marsh, he exchiim^d, " Shall we not try this?" 
 
 "Oh, yes ; let's stop, Levin," begged Vasenka ; and Levin 
 could not well refuse.
 
 568 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 The dogs darted forward instantly, and Levin stayed 
 behind to watch the horses. Veslovsky killed a moor-hen 
 and a lapwing, which was all that the}' found, and Levin felt 
 somewhat consoled. As the huntsmen entered the carriages, 
 Vasenka awkwardly held his gun and his game in one hand, 
 when a shot went off, and the horses plunged. It was Ves- 
 lovsky *S gun, which fortunately wounded no one, the shot 
 burying itself in the ground. He was so filled with remorse 
 that no one had the heart to grumble ; but his remorse soon 
 gave place to an absurd gayety as he recalled their panic and 
 the bump Levin gave himself with his gun. 
 
 In spite of their host's remonstrances, they alighted again 
 at the next swamp. This time, after he had brought down 
 a woodcock, Vasenka took pity on Levin, and offered to take 
 his place with the carriages. Levin did not refuse, and 
 Laska, growling at the injustice of fate, sprang with a 
 bound towards the haunts of the game, with a gravity which 
 did not seem to disturb the insignificant marsh-birds. She 
 circled about several times, sniffing the ground, and then 
 stopped suddenly, while Levin, with a beating heart, fol- 
 lowed cautiously. 
 
 A woodcock rose ; he had already aimed, when the sound 
 of steps advancing heavily through the water, and a shout 
 from Veslovsky, made him turn just as he fired. The shot 
 had missed. To his amazement, he beheld the carriages and 
 horses half buried in the mud. Veslovsky had driven them 
 off the highroad, into the marsh, in order to help in the hunt. 
 
 " The devil take him ! " murmured Levin. 
 
 "What are you going in so far for?" he asked the young 
 man, driby, as he hailed the coachman to come and help him 
 disengage the horses. His companions had not only spoiled 
 his shot, and nearly drowned his horses, but neither of them 
 offered to help him unharness and lead the animals to a dry 
 place. It is true that neither Stepan Arkadyevitch nor Ves- 
 lovsky knew anything about the art of harnessing ; but the 
 author of the mischief did his best to drag out the wagon- 
 ette, and iu his zeal tore his sleeve. This good will pleased 
 Levin, and he began to reproach himself for being out of 
 humor. In order to hide the fact that he was so, he gave 
 orders to have the breakfast unpacked. 
 
 " Son appetit bonne conscience ! " 
 
 "This chicken goes to the right spot," said Vasenka, in 
 French, serenely devouring his second.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 569 
 
 " Nu! Our misfortunes are over, friends. After this we 
 shall succeed in everything ; but as a punishment for my 
 sins, I am going to act as coachman, and drive you." 
 
 4> No, no ! I am a genuine Automedon ! " Levin protested, 
 fearing for the safety of the horses ; but he was obliged to 
 give Veslovsky his own way ; and the young man's contagious 
 jollity, as he sang ballads and imitated an Englishman driv- 
 ing a four-in-hand, at last succeeded in winning Levin. 
 They reached the Gvozdef marshes, laughing and joking. 
 
 X. 
 
 As they neared the end of their journey, Levin and Ob- 
 lonsky were possessed by the same thought, that of won- 
 dering how they might rid themselves of their inconvenient 
 companion. 
 
 ' What a fine marsh, and I see the hawks!" exclaimed 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch, as, after a furious drive, they reached 
 the place, just in the heat of the day. " Where hawks are, 
 there's sure to be game." 
 
 "The marsh begins at this island," explained Levin, ex- 
 amining his gun, and pointing out a deep place in the vast 
 wet plain, trodden down in places. 
 
 '' We'll separate into two camps, if you like, and take the 
 direction of that group of trees ; from there we can go on 
 to the mill. I've killed as many as seventeen woodcock in 
 this place." 
 
 " Very well ; you two take the right," said Stepan Arka- 
 dyevitch, indifferently. " I'll take the left." 
 
 " All right," said Vasenka. " Nu! Come on, come on ! " 
 
 Levin was obliged to accept this arrangement ; but after 
 the accidental discharge of the gun, he was suspicious of 
 his companion, and advised him to keep in front. 
 
 " I won't trouble you. Don't either of you trouble about 
 me," said Veslovsky. 
 
 The dogs separated, came nearer, then started off, each 
 following his own scent. Levin understood Laska's be- 
 havior, and thought he alreadv heard the crv of a woodcock. 
 
 "Pif, paf!" 
 
 It was Vasenka, firing at some ducks. Half a dozen 
 woodcock rose, one after the other, and Oblonsky seized 
 the opportunity to hit two of them. Levin was less fortu- 
 nate. Stepan Arkadyevitch picked up his game with an air
 
 570 ANNA RARE MSA. 
 
 of satisfaction, and went off to the left, whistling to his 
 dog, while Levin reloaded his gun, leaving Veslovsky lo 
 fire at random. 
 
 Always when Levin failed of hitting the first time, he easily 
 lost his self-control, and spoiled the hunt. This was what 
 happened to-day. The woodcock were so abundant that 
 nothing would have been easier than to retrieve a first' mis- 
 take ; but the further he went, the more disturbed he was. 
 
 Laska watched the huntsmen with an air of doubt and re- 
 proach, and hunted indifferently. In the distance ever}' one 
 of Oblonsky's shots seemed to tell, and they could hear his 
 voice shouting, " Bring it here, Krak ! " while, upon examin- 
 ing Levin's pouch after they had engaged a room at a muzhik's 
 hut, in the midst of the marsh, it was found to contain only 
 three small fowl, one of which was Vasenka's. 
 
 " Hi, hunters ! " exclaimed one of the peasants who were 
 seated near an unyoked cart, and holding a bottle of brandy, 
 which glistened in the sun. " Come and have a drink." 
 
 " Qu'est ce qu'ils disent?" asked Veslovsky. 
 
 " They offer us some vodka to drink. They are true chil- 
 dren of the steppe. I would accept," added Levin, not 
 without a secret hope that Veslovsky would fall a victim to 
 the vodka. 
 
 " But why should the} 1 treat us?" 
 
 "Probably in honor of some festival. Come ; it will amuse 
 you." 
 
 " Allans! c'est curieux! " 
 
 " You can find your way to the mill afterwards," said Le- 
 vin, delighted to see Veslovsky disappear, bent double, hitting 
 his tired feet against the clods of earth and languidly carry- 
 ing his gun in his heavy arms. 
 
 " You come, too," shouted the peasant to Levin. 
 
 A glass of brandy would not have come amiss to Levin, 
 who was tired and could hardly lift his feet from the marshy 
 soil ; but he caught sight of Laska pointing, and forgot his 
 fatigue in his impatience to join her. Vasenka's presence 
 had brought him bad luck, he thought; and yet now that he 
 was gone, Levin was as unfortunate as ever, although game 
 was plenty. When he reached the spot where he had agreed 
 to meet Oblonsky, he had five insignificant birds in his 
 game-bag. 
 
 Krak, with a triumphant air, went before his master ; 
 behind the dog came Stepan Arkady evitch, walking heavily,
 
 ANXA KARtiNINA. 571 
 
 and covered with perspiration, but with an overflowing 
 game-bag. 
 
 kk What a marsh ! " exclaimed he. " Veslovsky must haA-e 
 bored you. It's impossible to hunt in couples with a dog," 
 added he, to soften the effect of^his triumph. 
 
 XI. 
 
 LEVIN and Oblonsky found Veslovsky already established 
 at the izba where they had engaged supper. He was sitting 
 on a bench, and clutching it with both hands, while a soldier, 
 the brother of the hostess, drew off his muddy boots. 
 
 " I've just come," said he, with his contagious laugh. 
 " Us out et charmants! Imagine it ; after they had made 
 me eat and drink, they refused to take any pay. And what 
 bread ! what vodka ! deUdeux ! " 
 
 "Why should you offer money?" remarked the soldier, 
 at last succeeding in pulling off the boots ; " they don't keep 
 brandy to sell." 
 
 The huntsmen were not alarmed at the dirtiness of the 
 72&a, which their boots and their dogs' paws had covered 
 with black mud ; and they supped with an appetite only 
 known when limiting ; then, after washing themselves, they 
 went to rest in a hay-loft, where the coachman had prepared 
 their beds. 
 
 It grew dark, but they could not get to sleep ; and 
 Vasenka's raptures over the hospitality of the peasants, the 
 pleasant odor of the hay, and the intelligence of the dogs, 
 which lay at their feef, kept them awake. 
 
 Oblonsky gave an account of a hunt at which he had been 
 present the year before, at the place of Malthus, a railroad 
 speculator worth millions. 
 
 He described the immense game preserves, which Malthus 
 owned in the department of Tver, the dog-carts, and how 
 wngons were provided for the huntsmen ; and a great break- 
 fast tent was carried out into the marshes. 
 
 " How odious such people are ! " said Levin, raising him- 
 self up on his straw bed. " Their luxury is revolting. 
 They get rich just as the brandy-farmers used to do, and 
 deride public enterprise, knowing that their ill-gotten money 
 will make them respected." 
 
 " That's very true," exclaimed Veslovsky. "Oblonsky 
 accents their invitations for good-fellowship's sake ; but many 
 say Oblousky is visiting"
 
 572 A SNA K ARE NINA. 
 
 "You are mistaken," said Oblonsky. "If I visit them, 
 it is because I look upon them as rich merchants or pro- 
 prietors, who owe their wealth to their own work and 
 intelligence." 
 
 ' Da ! but what do you call work ? Is it to get a contract 
 and sub-let it ? " 
 
 " Certainly it is, in the sense that if no one took the 
 trouble to do it, we shouldn't have any railroads." 
 
 "Can you compare such work with that of a man who 
 labors, or a scholar who studies?" 
 
 " No ; but none the less it has its results, railroads. It 
 is true, you do not approve of them." 
 
 " That is another question ; but I maintain that when the 
 compensation is dispi'oportionate to the labor, it is dishon- 
 est. These fortunes are scandalous. Le roi est mort! vive 
 leroi! we've given up farms ; railroads and banks supplant 
 them." 
 
 "All that may be true; but who can trace the exact 
 limits of justice and injustice? For example, why is my 
 remuneration greater than that of my chief clerk, who knows 
 the business better than I do?" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " Nu! Why do you make, say, five thousand rubles where, 
 with more work, our host, the muzhik here, makes fifty? 
 and why shouldn't Malthus make more than his overseers ? 
 I cannot help believing that in reality the hatred inspired by 
 these millionaires comes simply from envy." 
 
 "You go too far," interrupted Veslovsky ; "it is not 
 envy, but there is something unfair in this state of things." 
 
 " You are right," replied Levin, " in calling my five thou- 
 sand rubles income unjust. It troubles me." 
 
 " Give your land to this muzhik ; he would not refuse it," 
 said Oblonsky, who had been inclined for some time to make 
 pointed remarks to his brother-in-law. Since they had formed 
 parts of the same family, their relations had taken on a 
 tinge of hostility. 
 
 " I don't give it, because I have no right to dispossess my- 
 self of it. I have a family, and I recognize duties towards it." 
 
 " If you look upon this inequality of fortune as an injus- 
 tice, it is your duty to put an end to it." 
 
 " I strive towards that end by doing nothing to increase 
 my foilune." 
 
 " What a paradox ! "
 
 AXXA KABJ2XINA. 573 
 
 "Yes ; that savors of sophistry," added Veslovsky. "Hello ! 
 khozydin," shouted he to a muzhik who just then opened the 
 door, making it creak ou its hinges. "Aren't you asleep 
 yet, either? " 
 
 "Oh, no; but I thought you gentlemen were asleep. I 
 want to get a hook. Will she bite?" said he, pointing to the 
 dogs and slipping into the barn. 
 
 But where do you sleep? " 
 
 " We are on night duty." 
 
 " Ach! AY hat a night!" exclaimed Vasenka, catching a 
 glimpse of the house and the unharnessed wagons in the 
 moonlight, through the door. " Where do those women's 
 voices come from ? " 
 
 ' It's the girls outside." 
 
 " Let's go out and walk, Oblonsky ; we can never go to 
 sleep." 
 
 "It is pretty comfortable here." 
 
 " Nu! .I'm going alone, then," said Vasenka, rising and 
 hastily dressing. " Good-bye, friends. If I find it enter- 
 taining, I'll call you. You've been too good as hunting- 
 companions, to be forgotten." 
 
 " He's a good fellow, isn't he? " said Oblonsky to Levin 
 when Vasenka and the peasant were gone. 
 
 " Yes, capital," answered Levin, following the thread of 
 his own thoughts. How did it happen that two sincere and 
 intelligent men could accuse him of sophistry, when he had 
 expressed himself as clearly as possible? 
 
 k ' Whatever a man does," resumed Oblonsky, " he ought 
 to take his stand and recognize either that society is right, or 
 that it enjoys unfair privileges, and, in the latter case, do as 
 I do,- get what pleasure out of it he can." 
 
 " No ; if you felt the iniquity of those privileges as I do, 
 you could not do so ; at least, I could not." 
 
 "After all, why shouldn't we go out for a turn?" said 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch, tired of the conversation. " Let's 
 go, for we cannot sleep." 
 
 " No ; I shall stay here." 
 
 " Is that from principle, too?" said Oblonsk3", groping for 
 his hat. 
 
 No ; but what should I do out there? " 
 
 " You are in a bad case," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, hav- 
 ing found what he was looking for. 
 
 "Wbjrao?"
 
 574 ANNA KAEEN1NA. 
 
 " Because you are spoiling your wile. I've noticed the 
 importance you attach to having her permission when you are 
 going away for a few days. That may be charmingly idyllic, 
 but it can't last. A man must maintain his independence ; 
 he has his own affairs," said Oblonsky, opening the door. 
 
 ' What are they? running after farm girls? " 
 
 "Yes, if it amuses him. fa ne lire pas ct consequence. 
 My wife would not object greatly to it, and the main thing is 
 to respsct the sanctuary of home. But it's not necessary to 
 tie one's hands." 
 
 "Perhaps," said Levin drily, as he turned over. "I 
 warn you that I shall leave at sunrise to-morrow morning, 
 without waking any one." 
 
 "Messieurs, venez vite!" called Vasenka to them. 
 " Charmante! I discovered her, a genuine Gretchen," added 
 he, with the air of a connoisseur. Levin pretended to be 
 asleep, and let them go. He lay a long time without being 
 able to sleep. He could hear the horses munching their hay ; 
 the muzhik setting out with his son to watch the animals in 
 the pasture ; then the soldier going to bed in the hay on the 
 other side of the barn with his little nephew. The child 
 asked questions, in a low voice, about the dogs, who seemed 
 like terrible beasts to him. The uncle finally quieted him, 
 and the silence was only broken b}- his snores. 
 
 Levin, influenced by his conversation with Oblonsky, 
 thought over the coming day, and said to himself, "I will get 
 up at sunrise ; I will keep cool ; there are plenty of wood- 
 cock. When I get back I may find a word from Kitty. 
 Da ! may be Stiva is right : I am not manly ; I am effemi- 
 nate towards her ! What is to be done about it? " 
 
 As he was falling asleep he heard his companions come in, 
 and opened his eyes an instant to see them, illumined by the 
 moon, through the half-open door. 
 
 "To-morrow at sunrise, gentlemen," he said, and fell 
 asleep. 
 
 XTI. 
 
 THE next morning it was impossible to awake Vasenka, as 
 he lay upon his stomach, sleeping with clenched fists. Ob- 
 lonsky also refused to get up ; and even Laska, lying in a 
 round ball in the hay, stretched her hind legs lazily, before 
 she could make up her mind to follow her master. Levin
 
 yl.V-V.-l KARtfXIXA. 575 
 
 put on his boots, took his gun, and cautiously went out. 
 The coachmen were bleeping near the carriages, the horses 
 were asleep ; it was scarcely daylight. 
 
 " You are up early," said the friendly old mistress of the 
 hut, who was coming out of the door, accosting him famil- 
 iarly as an old acquaintance. 
 
 kk I'm going out to shoot, T6tuslika [auntie]. "Which 
 is the way to the marsh ? " 
 
 Follow the path behind the barns," said the old woman, 
 and she herself went with him, to show him the way. 
 
 Laska ran ahead, and Levin followed cheerily, question- 
 ing the sky, intending to reach the marsh before the sun was 
 up. The moon, which was still visible when he left the 
 barn, grew more and more dim the morning star could 
 scarcely be seen, and the points along the horizon, which 
 were at first indistinct, became more and more definite ; they 
 were hay-mows. The least sound could be distinctly heard 
 in the absolute quiet ; and a bee which whizzed past Levin's 
 ear, seemed to hiss like a cannon-ball. 
 
 The white vapors rising from the marsh looked like islands ; 
 bunches of cytisus indicated the beginning of the great 
 marsh. Along its border lay men and children, wrapped in 
 kaftans, and sleeping soundly, after their vigil. The horses 
 were already grazing and clanking their chains. The sight 
 of Laska startled them, and they ran to the water's edge, 
 paddling with their tied feet. 
 
 The dog glanced at his master, and gave them a quizzical 
 look. 
 
 After he had passed the sleeping peasants, Levin exam- 
 ined his gun-case, and whistled to Laska, to tell her the hunt 
 was about to begin. She instantly started, joyous and full 
 of importance, snuffing the soft earth, 'with its well-known 
 odors, searching for that special smell of the bird which 
 touched her more than any other. The better to scent the 
 direction of the game, she started off to the leeward, bound- 
 ing gently, that she might the more easily come to a sudden 
 stop. Presently her pace slackened, for she no longer fol- 
 lowed a trail ; she was on the game itself. There was plenty 
 of it, but where? Her master's voice came from the op- 
 posite side, u Laska, here!" She stopped, hesitating, 
 started to obey, but went back to the place which had 
 attracted her ; she circled about to find the exact spot, and 
 then, sure of her game, stopped, trembling with excitement,
 
 576 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 before a little hill. Her short legs prevented her from see- 
 ing, but her instinct did not deceive her. She could scarcely 
 breathe, in the jo\" of her anticipation ; she stood rnotioii- 
 less, and with half-open mouth, looking at her master, with- 
 out daring to turn her head. It seemed to her he was slow 
 to come ; but he was, in reality, running, hitting the clods 
 of earth, and with a look which seemed to her terrible. For, 
 with a huntsman's superstition, he feared, above everything, 
 to lose his first shot. As he approached, he saw what Laska 
 could only scent, a woodcock hidden between two hil- 
 locks. 
 
 " Charge ! " cried he. 
 
 " Na ! Isn't he mistaken ? " thought Laska. " I smell it, 
 but I do not see it ; if I stir, I shall not know where to find 
 them." 
 
 But a nudge from her master encouraged her, and she 
 bounded impulsively forward, no longer conscious of what 
 she was doing. 
 
 A woodcock rose immediately, and they could hear the 
 whir of its wings. The bird fell, beating the moist ground 
 with its white breast ; a second woodcock was destined to 
 the same fate. 
 
 "Well done, Lasotchka!" said Levin, putting the game, 
 warm, into his bag. 
 
 The sun was up as Levin went forward into the marsh ; 
 the moon looked like a mere white speck in the sky ; all the 
 stars had disappeared. The pools of water glittered with the 
 roseate reflection of the sun ; the grass took an amber tint ; 
 the marsh birds bestirred themselves amongst the bushes ; 
 some vultures perched on the piles of corn, surveying their 
 domain with an air of discontent, and the jackdaws flew 
 about the fields. The smoke from the gun made a white 
 track like milk along the green grass. One of the sleepers 
 had already put on his kaftan, and some children were lead- 
 ing horses along the road. 
 
 'Diddenka " [little uncle], shouted one of the boys to 
 Levin. ' there were some ducks here yesterday." 
 
 Levin experienced a feeling of delight as he killed three 
 more woodcocks before the child, who was watching him.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 577 
 
 XIII. 
 
 THE superstition of hunters, that if the first shot brings 
 down bird or beast, the field will be good, was justified. 
 
 Tired and hungry, but delighted, Levin returned about 
 ten o'clock, after a run of thirty versts, having brought down 
 nineteen woodcock and one duck, which, for want of room 
 in his game-bag, he hung at his belt. His companions 
 had been long up ; and after waiting till they were famished, 
 they had eaten breakfast. 
 
 " Hold on, hold on ! I know there are nineteen," cried 
 Levin, counting for the second time his grouse and snipe, 
 with their bloodstained plumage and their drooping heads 
 all laid one over the other, so different from what they were 
 on the marsh. 
 
 The count was verified, and Stepan Arkadyevitch's envy 
 was delightful to Levin. To crown his happiness, he found 
 a letter from Kitty. 
 
 " I am perfectly well and happy," she wi-ote ; " and if you 
 fear lest I shall not be sufficiently cared for, it will re-assure 
 3 7 ou to learn that Marya Vlasievna is here. [She was a 
 midwife, a new and very important personage in the 
 family.] She came over to see me. She thinks I am won- 
 derfully well, and we shall keep her till you get back. We 
 are all well and happy, and you need not hasten to come 
 back if you are enjoying yourself and the hunting is good." 
 
 These two pleasures his successful hunt and the letter 
 from his wife were so great, that they effaced from Levin's 
 mind two less agreeable incidents. The first was the fact 
 that his fast horse, who had been overworked the evening 
 before, refused to eat and was tired out. The coachman said 
 that she was used up. " They abused her last evening, 
 Konstantin Dmitritch," said he. "The idea! they drove 
 her ten versts at full speed ! " 
 
 The second and more serious unpleasantness was the abso- 
 lute disappearance of all the abundant provisions which 
 Kitty had put up for them at starting. Weary and hungry, 
 Levin actually saw certain little pdtes so visibly in his 
 mind's eye that when he returned he smelled the odor and 
 tasted them in his mouth ; bxit they had all disappeared, as 
 had nlso the chicken and the meat, and Laska was cracking 
 the bones.
 
 578 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 " Nu! talk of appetites," said Stepan Arkady evitch, nod- 
 ding at Vasenka Veslovsky ; "I cannot complain of mine, 
 but this young man's goes ahead of it." 
 
 " Nu! what shall I do?" cried Levin, glowering at Ves- 
 lovsky. "Filipp, give me some cold beef." 
 
 "Beef's all eat, and the dogs have got the bones!" 
 replied Filipp. 
 
 Levin was so irritated that he could not help exclaiming, 
 "I should think you might have left something forme!" 
 and he felt like crying. 
 
 " Then cook me a grouse." he said, with trembling voice, 
 to Filipp, not daring to look at Vasenka, " and bring me 
 some milk." But after he drank his milk he was mortified 
 because he had shown his disappointment so plainly and 
 before a stranger, and he began to laugh at himself for his 
 anger. 
 
 In the afternoon they went out into the fields again, and 
 Veslovsky shot several birds, and at night they went home. 
 
 They were as gay on their return as they had been while 
 going. Veslovsky now sang songs, and now told of his ad- 
 ventures with the muzhiks who gave him his vodka and bade 
 him drink it down quick. Then he told his adventures in the 
 court-yard with one of the girls and a muzhik, who asked 
 him, "Are you married or not?" and when he said no, 
 replied, " Don't be offended with a stranger, but above all 
 things make haste and get a wife." These words greatly 
 amused Veslovsky. 
 
 "Well, on the whole, I am awfully glad we went, aren't 
 you, Levin?" 
 
 " Very glad," replied Levin very sincerely, and he was 
 happy because he no longer felt that animosity which he had 
 felt at home towards Vasenka Veslovsky ; but, on the other 
 hand, really conceived a friendship for him. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 ABOUT ten oclock the next morning, after inspecting the 
 farm, Levin knocked at Vasenka' s door. 
 
 " Entrez," said Veslovsky. " Excuse me, but I am just 
 finishing my ablutions." 
 
 "Do not trouble yourself," said Levin, and he sat down 
 by the window. " Have you slept well?" 
 
 " Like the dead. Is it a good day for hunting?"
 
 .lA'A'.l KAHL\\IXA. 579 
 
 " What do you drink, tea or coffee?" 
 
 "Neither; I always go down to breakfast; I am morti- 
 fied at being so late. The ladies, I suppose, are already 
 up? Spleudid time for a ride! You must show me your 
 horses." 
 
 After walking around the garden, examining the stable, 
 and performing a few gymnastic exercises together, Levin 
 and his guest came back to the house and went into the 
 parlor. 
 
 ' We had splendid sport," said Veslovsky, approaching 
 Kitty, who was sitting near the samovar. " What a pity 
 that ladies are deprived of this pleasure ! " 
 
 " Nu! Of course he must have something to say to the 
 lady of the house," thought Levin. And again he began to 
 feel annoyance at the young man's lordly air. 
 
 The princess was sitting on the other side of the table and 
 talking with Marya Vlasievna and Stepan Arkadyevitch. 
 She called Levin to her and began to explain to him the 
 necessity of having her daughter settled at Moscow at the 
 time of her confinement. Nothing anno3~ed Levin so much 
 as this commonplace way of anticipating an event so extraor- 
 dinary as the birth of a son, for he felt sure that this would 
 be a son. He would not admit that this uncertain happiness, 
 surrounded for him by so much mystery, should be discussed 
 as a common occurrence by women who could count the time 
 of the event on their fingers. Their talk, as well as the 
 articles of the infant wardrobe, wounded him, and he refused 
 to listen, as he had before, when he ought to have been think- 
 ing of the preparations for his marriage. 
 
 The princess did not understand these prejudices, and this 
 apparent indifference seemed to her like dullness and careless- 
 ness. She would not let him alone. She had just been 
 charging Stepan Arkadyevitch to look up a suite of rooms, 
 and insisted that Konstantin should give his advice. 
 
 "Do as you think best, Princess ; I* understand nothing 
 about the matter." 
 
 " But you will have to decide just when you will go to 
 Moscow." 
 
 " I don't know ; what I do know is that millions of children 
 are born outside of Moscow, and doctors and all that" 
 
 " Da ! In that case " 
 
 " Let Kitty do as she pleases about it." 
 
 "It is impossible to speak with Kitty about it. Do you
 
 580 A XX A Jf.<17?/?.V7V.l. 
 
 think I want to frighten her? Only this spring Natali Golit- 
 suin died in confinement her second child." 
 
 " I shall do as you wish," repeated Levin angrily. The 
 princess began to say something more to him, but he was not 
 listening. Though his conversation with the princess upset 
 him, he was not angered by what she said, but by what he 
 saw at the samovar. 
 
 ' No ; that can't go on," thought he, now and then casting 
 a glance towards Vasenka, who was bending over Kitty, with 
 a Mattering smile, and looking at his wife's disturbed and 
 blushing face. There was something improper in Veslovsky's 
 attitude, his smile, his eyes. So, too, Kitty's action and 
 appearance seemed to him unbecoming, and again the light 
 flashed in his eves. And again, as happened two days before, 
 he felt himself suddenly, without the least warning, precipi- 
 tated from the height of happiness, contentment, and dignity, 
 into an abyss of hatred and confusion. Again they seemed 
 to him, each and all, his enemies. " Do just as you please, 
 Princess," said he again, turning round. 
 
 "Heavy is the cap of Monomakh," said Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch in jest, referring, not to Levin's conversation with the 
 princess, but to Levin's agitated face, which amused him. 
 " How late you are, Dolly ! " 
 
 All arose to greet Darya Aleksandrovna, who came in. 
 Vasenka also arose, but only for a moment ; and bowing 
 slightly with the natural politeness of young men towards 
 ladies, he resumed his conversation with some humorous 
 remark. 
 
 " Masha did not sleep well, and she wore me out," answered 
 Darya Aleksandrovna. 
 
 The conversation between Vasenka and Kitty turned again 
 upon Anna, and the question whether it was possible to love 
 under these illegal conditions. This talk displeased the 
 young wife ; but she^was too inexperienced and too naive to 
 know how to put an end to it. Consequently, to hide the 
 torture which the young man's somewhat persecuting atten- 
 tion caused her, she wanted to put an end to it, but she did not 
 know how to accomplish it. Fear of her husband's jealousy 
 added to her distress, for she knew beforehand that he would 
 misinterpret her every word and gesture. 
 
 kt Where are you going, Kostia?" she asked, with a guilty 
 air, as her husband, with deliberate steps, went by her on 
 his way out of the room.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 581 
 
 This guilty confusion confirmed his suspicion of his wife's 
 hypocrisy. %k I am going to speak to a machinist who came 
 while I was away," he answered, without looking at her. 
 
 He had got down-stairs, but was not yet in his library, 
 before he heard Kitty's well-known footsteps imprudently 
 hurrying after him. 
 
 'What is it? I am busy," said he, curtly. 
 
 " Excuse me," said Kitty, coming in, and speaking to the 
 German machinist; "I wish to say a few words to my 
 husband." 
 
 The mechanic was about to leave when Levin stopped him. 
 
 " Don't disturb yourself." 
 
 " I don't want to lose the three o'clock train," remarked 
 the German. 
 
 Without answering him, Levin went out into the corridor 
 with his wife. 
 
 " What do you wish to say to me?" he asked in French. 
 
 He did not look at her face, and did not want to see how 
 it was contracted with mental suffering. 
 
 "I I wanted to say to you that it is impossible to live 
 so ; it is torture," murmured she. 
 
 " There is some one there at the cupboard," he replied 
 angrily. " Don't make a scene." 
 
 " Let us go in here then." 
 
 Kitty wanted to go into the next room, but there the 
 English governess was teaching Tania. 
 
 " Then let us go into the garden." 
 
 In the garden they ran across a vmizhik who was weeding 
 a path. And now no longer thinking that the muzhik would 
 see her tearful face or his anger, not thinking that they were 
 in sight of people passing, she went with swift steps straight 
 on, feeling that she must have an explanation with him, and 
 find some lonely spot where they could talk, and free them- 
 selves from this misery that was oppressing them both. 
 
 " It is impossible to live so. It is torture. I suffer. You 
 suffer. Why is it?" she said, when at last they reached a 
 bench standing by itself in the corner of the linden alley. 
 
 "But tell me one thing: was not his manner indecent, 
 improper, horribly insulting?" he asked, standing in front 
 of her in that position, with his fists doubled up on his 
 chest, that he had taken up on that night when he stood 
 before her. 
 
 "It was," said she, with trembling voice; "but, Kostia,
 
 582 ANNA KARENINA. 
 
 can't you see that I am not to blame ? I wanted 3'esterday 
 to show such a manner, but these people Why did he 
 come? How happy we were!" she said, choking with the 
 sobs that shook her whole body. 
 
 The gardener saw with surprise that though there was 
 nothing especially attractive about the bench where they had 
 been sitting, yet still they went past him back to the house 
 with peaceful, shining faces. 
 
 XV. 
 
 As soon as his wife had gone to her room, Levin went to 
 seek Doll} 7 . Darya Aleksaudrovua also was in a state of 
 great excitement. She was pacing up and down her chamber, 
 and scolding little Masha, who stood in a corner, crying. 
 
 " You shall stay all day in the corner, and eat dinner alone, 
 and have no dolls, and no new dress," she was saying, though 
 she did not know why she was punishing the child. " This 
 is a naughty little girl," she said to Levin ; " where does she 
 get this abominable disposition?" 
 
 " Da! what has she done?" asked Levin, annoyed at find- 
 ing his sister-in-law in such a state when he wished to con- 
 sult her. 
 
 " She and Grisha went into the raspberry bush, and 
 there but I can't tell you what she did. Thousand times 
 rather have Miss Eliot ! This governess doesn't look after 
 anything a perfect machine. Figurez vous, que la petite 
 [Just conceive, that the little one] . And she related Masha's 
 misdeeds. 
 
 " I don't see anything very bad in that. It is only a piece 
 of childish mischief." 
 
 " But what is the matter with you? You look troubled. 
 "What has happened ? " asked Dolly, and by the tone of her 
 questions Levin perceived that it would be easy for him to 
 say what he had in his mind to say. 
 
 " I have been alone in the garden with Kitty. We have 
 just had a quarrel the second since Stiva came. " 
 
 Dolly turned her penetrating eyes upon him. " Nu! Your 
 hand on your heart," he said, " tell me, was the conduct, not 
 of Kitty, but of this young man, anything else than unpleas- 
 ant, not unpleasant, but intolerable, insulting even, to a 
 husband?" 
 
 "What shall I say to you? Stand in the corner!" said
 
 ANNA KARENINA. 583 
 
 she to Masha, who presumed on the smile on her mother's 
 face. "In the eyes of society he is only playing a young 
 man's part. 11 fait la cour a une jeune et jolie femme [He 
 is paying attention to a young wife], and her husband, as 
 himself a gentleman of society, should be pleased with his 
 gallantries." 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Levin angrily; "but have you noticed it?" 
 
 "I noticed it, of course; and Stiva said after tea, 4 Je 
 crois que Veslovsky fait un petit brin de cour a Kitty ' " [I 
 guess Veslovsky is trying to flirt with Kitty]. 
 
 " Nu! See how calm I am. I am going to send the man 
 away." said Levin. 
 
 "Are you out of your senses?" cried Dolly, alarmed. 
 "What are you thinking about, Kostia? Nu! you may 
 go now to Fanny," she said to the child. 
 
 " No ! If you want, I will speak to Stiva. He will get him 
 to leave. He can say we are expecting company. How- 
 ever, it is not our house." 
 
 " No, no ! I will do it myself." 
 
 " You will quarrel." 
 
 " Xot at all, I shall find it amusing," said he, with a 
 happier light shining in his eyes. *'Nu! Dolly, forgive her; 
 she won't do it again," he said, pointing to the little criminal, 
 who had not gone to Fanny, but was now standing beside 
 her mother with downcast eyes. 
 
 The mother looked at her. The child, seeing its mother 
 softening, threw itself sobbing into her arms, and Dolly laid 
 her thin hand tenderly on its head. 
 
 " Is there anything in common between us and that 
 fellow? " thought Levin, and he turned away to find Vasenka. 
 
 In the hall he ordered the carriage to be made ready. 
 
 "The springs were broken yesterday," the servant answered. 
 
 " Then bring the tarantds. Only be quick about it. Where 
 is the guest?" 
 
 "He went to his room." 
 
 Vasenka had pulled his things out of a valise, and was 
 trying on his gaiters in preparation for a ride as Levin came 
 in. Either there was something strange in Levin's expres- 
 sion, or Veslovsky himself was conscious that ce petit brin 
 de cour which he was making was rather out of place in this 
 family ; but at all events, he felt as uncomfortable in Levin's 
 presence as it is possible for an elegant young man to feel. 
 
 " Do you ride in gaiters?" asked Levin.
 
 584 ANNA KARENINA. 
 
 " Yes ; it's very muddy," replied Vasenka, putting up one 
 leg on a chair, and struggling with the bottom button, and 
 smiling with genuine good humor. 
 
 He was really a very good-hearted young fellow, and Levin 
 was sorry for him and conscience-stricken for his own part 
 when he saw Vdsenka's timidity in the presence of the 
 khozydin [host]. 
 
 On the table lay a fragment of a stick which they had 
 broken that morning in some of their gymnastic exercises. 
 Levin took this fragment in his hand and whirled it round, 
 not knowing how to begin, 
 
 " I wanted" He stopped for a moment ; but suddenly 
 remembering the scene with Kitty, he went on, looking him 
 squarely in the eye. "I have had the horses put in for 
 you." 
 
 " What do you mean?" began Vasenka, in surprise. 
 " Where are we going?" 
 
 "You are going to the railway station," said Levin, with 
 a frown, and breaking off the end of the stick. 
 
 " Are you going away? Has anything happened?" 
 
 " I happen to be expecting company," Levin went on, 
 breaking off pieces of his stick more and more nervously. 
 " Or, no, I am not expecting any one, but I will ask you to 
 go away. Explain my lack of politeness as you please." 
 
 Vasenka drew himself up with dignity, 
 
 " I beg you to explain to me " 
 
 " I will not explain, and you will be wise not to question 
 me," Levin said slowly, trying to remain calm, and to check 
 the tremulous motions of his face, while he went on snapping 
 off bits from the stick he held in his hand. Vasenka watched 
 his movements and watched the tightening muscles. He had 
 tried the man's strength that morning at the gymnastic 
 exercises. He found Levin's bearing as convincing as his 
 words. He shrugged his shoulder, smiled a scornful smile, 
 bowed, and said, " May I see Oblonsky?" 
 
 " I will send him to you," Levin answered. He did not 
 mind the shrug. " What else could he do?" he thought. 
 
 "There is no sense in such conduct! It is perfectly 
 absurd ! " cried Stepan Arkadyevitch when he rejoined Levin 
 in the garden, after learning from Veslovsky that he was to 
 be driven from the house. "To be stung by such a fly! 
 mais c'est ridicule, mats c'est du dernier ridicule of this young 
 man "
 
 .LYA T .4 KARBNINA. 585 
 
 The spot where the fly stung Levin was still so sensitive, 
 however, that Levin cut short the explanations which his 
 brother-in-law tried to give. 
 
 ' Don't take the trouble to defend the young man; I am 
 sorry both for you and for him. He will soon console him- 
 self ; but my wife and I found his presence unpleasant." 
 
 ' But it was insulting to him. Et pais c'est ridicule." 
 
 " But it was insulting to me and extremely disagreeable. 
 I am not to blame towards him, and I can't endure him." 
 
 ' Nu! I did not expect this of you. On pent gtrejaloux, 
 mais tt ce point c'est dernier ridicule" [One may be jealous, 
 but to that degree is ridiculous] . 
 
 Levin turned away. He walked up and down the path, 
 awaiting his guest's departure. 
 
 Soon he heard the rumbling of the tarantds, and through 
 the trees he saw Vasenka riding up the road, sitting on the 
 straw (for the tarantds had no seat), the ribbons of his cap 
 streaming behind his head as the cart jolted along. 
 
 "What now?" thought Levin as he saw a servant run 
 from the house and stop the cart. It was only to find a place 
 for the machinist, who had been forgotten, and who now took 
 his seat, with a low bow, beside Vasenka. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch and the princess were indignant at 
 Levin's conduct. He himself felt its absurdity keenly ; and 
 yet, as he considered all that Kitty and he had suffered, he 
 said to himself that he would do the same thing again when- 
 ever there should be a similar need. In the evening there 
 came over him again a kind of gayety such as children show 
 when their punishment is at an end, or housekeepers after an 
 irksome state party. Everybody felt in better spirits, and 
 Dolly, who had inherited from her father the gift of humor, 
 made Vdrenka laugh till she cried, by telling her three and 
 four times, and each time with new amusing details, how she 
 had just put on, in honor of their guest, a pair of ravishing 
 little new boots, and was going into the drawing-room when, 
 at that very minute, the rattle of an old carriage drew her to 
 the window. Who was in this old tumble-down waggon? 
 Vasenka himself !. his Scotch cap, his fluttering ribbons, his 
 romantic airs, and his gaiters, seated on the straw ! 
 
 "If only a carriage had been given him ! But no ! Then 
 I hear a shout : l Hold on ! ' They have taken pity on 
 him ; not in the least; I look and see a fat German, and 
 off they go ! and my boots were wasted."
 
 586 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 DARYA ALEKSANDROVNA fulfilled her intentions, and went 
 to see Anna. It made her sister very angry, aud displeased 
 her husband. Levin was indisposed to anything like a 
 reconciliation with Vronsky, but she wanted to prove to her 
 that her affection had undergone no change. The little 
 journey that she had planned presented some difficulties. In 
 order not to put her brother-in-law to inconvenience, she 
 sent to hire horses in the village. When Levin heard of 
 this, he went to her with his complaint, 
 
 " Why should you suppose I do not wish you to visit the 
 Vronskys? And then if I did not, you would annoy me 
 more by using other horses than mine. You did not tell me 
 that you were really going. I have horses ; and if you don't 
 want to offend me, you must use mine." 
 
 Dolly finally submitted, and on the appointed day, having 
 arranged for a change of horses in th*e middle of the journey, 
 Levin sent her off with four horses, under the protection of 
 his bookkeeper, whom, for greater security, he had seated 
 beside the coachman in the dress of a footman. The carriage 
 was by no means a handsome one, but it was well adapted 
 to a long journey. 
 
 Now that horses were necessary both for the princess and 
 other members of the famity, it was rather a burden on 
 Levin ; but by the laws of hospitality he could not let Darya 
 Aleksandrovna hire horses outside of his house ; and, besides, 
 he knew that the twent}" rubles which it would cost would be a 
 very serious matter for her ; for Darya Aleksandrovna's pecu- 
 niary affairs were in a very wretched situation, and the Levins 
 felt deeply for her. 
 
 Day was just breaking as Darya Aleksandrovna set off. 
 Lulled by the regular tramp of the horses, she fell asleep, 
 and she did not wake until the place was 'reached where the 
 horses wqre to be changed. Here she took a cup of tea with 
 the rich peasant, at whose house Levin had stopped on his 
 way to visit Sviazhsky ; and after she had rested, and had 
 listened to the talk of the old man and the young woman, 
 she continued her journey. 
 
 During a life devoted to maternal cares, Dolly had had 
 little time for reflection. Accordingly this carriage journey, 
 alone, afforded her an unusual opportunity for reflecting on 
 her past life, and for considering its different aspects.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 587 
 
 First she thought of her children, now left in charge of her 
 mother and her sister and it was the latter on whom she 
 chiefly relied. "If only Masha doesn't do some stupid 
 thing, and if Grisha doesn't get kicked by the horse, and if 
 Lili doesn't bring on a fit of indigestion," she said to herself. 
 More important matters came in the train of these passing 
 anxieties. She must make changes in her rooms when she 
 returned to Moscow, she must refit the drawing-room ; her 
 eldest daughter would need a shuba for winter. Then came 
 graver questions. How should she best continue the 
 children's education? The girls could easily be managed, but 
 the boys? She had been able that summer to devote herself 
 to Grisha, because, by good luck, she had had at that time 
 no trouble with her health. As her pregnancy came on 
 and she thought how unjust it was to count the pangs of child- 
 birth as the mark of woman's curse. 
 
 " That is such a trifle compared with the misery of 
 pregnancy," and she recalled her last experience of that 
 sort, and the loss of the child. Thinking about this 
 brought to mind her talk with the young wife, the daughter 
 of the old peasant at whose house she had taken the cup of tea. 
 When asked how many children she had, this peasant 
 woman had answered that she had one daughter, but God 
 took her in 'Lent. 
 
 " And you are very sad about her? " 
 
 " Oh no ! father will have plenty of grandchildren, and she 
 would have been only one care more ! You can't work or do 
 anything; it hinders everything." 
 
 Dolly had been shocked at such words from the mouth of 
 a woman whose face was not wanting in kindness. 
 
 "This is what it comes to," she thought, as she recalled 
 her fifteen years of married life. "My youth has been 
 spent in a heartache because I felt clumsy and looked 
 hideous ; for if our pretty Kitty grows ugly at such a time, 
 what a fright I must be ! " and she shuddered as she thought 
 of what she had suffered, the long nights of wakefulness, 
 the wretchedness when nursing her child, the nervousness 
 and irritability which followed. Then there were the 
 sicknesses of the children, their quarrelsome tempers, the 
 expense of their education, the perplexities of Latin, and 
 worst of all, death. The mother's heart was still cruelly 
 bleeding over the loss of her last-born, who had been carried 
 off by croup. She remembered the grief felt by her alone
 
 588 ANNA 
 
 when she stood and watched the little white brow fringed 
 with curls, and the surprised, half-open mouth, and saw the 
 pink, silver-edged coffin close. She was the only one who 
 wept, and the general indifference had made her grief the 
 greater. 
 
 "And what was all this for? What will be the result of 
 this life of care ? What but a family poor and badly brought 
 up ! What should I have done this summer if the Levins 
 had not asked me to visit them ? But however/ kind and 
 considerate they may be, they cannot ask us again, for they 
 will have children of their own to fill their house. Papa is 
 almost ruined already for our sake, and cannot help me any 
 more ; and how shall I succeed in making men of my sons? 
 I must look them up protectors, must humble myself for 
 them, for I cannot count upon Stiva. The best I can hope 
 is that they may be saved from turning out badly, and to 
 bring about so much, what suffering I must endure ! The 
 words of the young peasant contained a good deal of truth 
 in their frank cynicism." 
 
 "Are we nearing the end of our journey, Mikhail?" she 
 asked the bookkeeper, by way of checking these painful 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Seven versts to reach the village." 
 
 The carriage was crossing a little bridge, where the babui, 
 with sheaves resting on their shoulders, had paused to see 
 her pass. Every face seemed gay, contented, full of life 
 and health. 
 
 "Everybody is alive and enjoying the world," said Dolly 
 to herself, as the old carriage moved off at a trot up a little 
 hill ; " I alone seem like a prisoner set at liberty for a moment. 
 My sister, Natali, Varenka, these women, Anna, they all 
 know what life is. I do not know. And why do people 
 blame Anna? If I had not loved my husband, I very likely 
 might have done what she has done. She wanted to live ; 
 and has not God put the demand for that into our hearts ? 
 Have not I too regretted that I took her advice and did not 
 separate from Stiva? Who knows? I might have begun life 
 over again ; might have loved and been loved ! And is 
 what I am now doing more creditable to me ? I endure my 
 husband because I need him that is all. I had some 
 beauty once." And she attempted to draw from its case a 
 small travelling mirror, but the fear of being seen by the two 
 men on the box restrained her. Without looking at herself,
 
 ANNA KARENINA. 589 
 
 however, she could remember her former power to please. 
 She thought of the attentions of Sergei Ivanovitch, who 
 had once loved her, and the devotion shown by good 
 Turovtsuiu, who for love of her had helped to nurse the 
 children through the scarlatina ; she even recalled an 
 extremely young man about whom Stiva had once teased 
 her, and the most passionate, the most extravagant romances 
 presented themselves before her imagination. 
 
 "Anna is right; she is happy, and she makes another 
 happy. She must be beautiful, brilliant, full of interests on 
 all sides, just as she used to be." A smile played over Dolly's 
 lips as she traced in her thoughts a romance like that of 
 Anna's, but one in which she herself was to be the heroine. 
 She pictured the time when she would tell her husband all, 
 and she broke into a laugh at thinking how stupefied Stiva 
 would be. With such thoughts she came to the cross-roads 
 that led to Vozdvizhensky. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE driver reined in his four horses and looked across to 
 a field of rye, where some muzhiks were sitting beside their 
 telyega. The coachman shouted to them, "Come here, you 
 lazybones." 
 
 The peasant who came at his call, an old round-shouldered 
 man with hair bound down by a narrow leather strap, ap- 
 proached the carriage. 
 
 "The great house [barsky dvor] ? The count's?" he re- 
 peated. " Take the first road to the left, and you'll get into 
 the avenue that leads to it. But who do you want? The 
 count himself? " 
 
 " Are they at home, golnbtchik?" said Dolly, not knowing 
 very well how to ask for Anna. 
 
 "They must be, .for company is coming every day," said 
 the old man, anxious to prolong the conversation. " And 
 you, too where did you come from?" 
 
 " We have come a long way," said the coachman. " So, 
 then, we are getting near the end?" 
 
 He had hardly started again, when two voices cried out, 
 " Stop, he! stop ! " The coachman reined in his horses again. 
 " Here they come. There they are ! " and four riders and a 
 two-horse tilbury were seen turning into the road. 
 
 It was Vrousky in jockey costume, Anna, Veslovsky, and
 
 590 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 a mounted groom ; the Princess Varvara and Sviazbsky fol- 
 lowed in a carriage. They had all come out to see the oper- 
 ation of a new-fashioned steam reaper. 
 
 AY hen the carriage stopped, the riders were walking their 
 horses. Anna, her pretty head covered with a tall hat, from 
 under which escaped ringlets of dark hair, appeared quite at 
 her ease on a little English cob. Dolly was at first somewhat 
 scandalized to see her on horseback, because she connected 
 with horseback riding ideas of coquetry, which did not well ac- 
 cord with Anna's ambiguous situation ; but she was so struck 
 with her friend's entire simplicity, in spite of her elegance, 
 that her first thoughts disappeared. Vaseuka Veslovsky, in 
 his Scotch cap, with its flowing ribbons, rode next to Anna 
 on a fiery, high-stepping cavalry horse. As Dolly saw him, 
 she could not repress a smile. Vronsky followed them on a 
 dark bay of pure blood, apparently spoiling for a gallop. 
 Vronsky was sawing on the reins to keep him in. A young 
 man in jockey costume closed the procession. 
 
 A glow came over Anna's face as she recognized the little 
 person curled vip in a corner of the old carriage, and uttering 
 a cry of joy, she put her cob to a gallop, leaped lightly olf 
 the horse without any one's aid when she saw that Doll}- had 
 left her carriage, and, gathering up her skirts, ran to meet 
 her. 
 
 "I thought so, and did not dare to think so! What 
 pleasure ! you can't imagine my joy." she said, taking the 
 traveller in her arms, kissing her, and looking at her with an 
 affectionate smile. "You can't think what good you do me ! 
 Aleksei," she said, turning to the count, who also had dis- 
 mounted, "what a piece of good fortune ! " 
 
 Vronsky came up, raising his gray hat. " Your visit gives 
 us great pleasure," said he, in a tone that conveyed a pecu- 
 liar satisfaction. 
 
 Vasenka, without leaving his horse, took off his cap, and 
 waved it gayly round his head, in honor of the guest. 
 
 " This is the Princess Varvara," began Anna, in reply to 
 a questioning look of Dolly as the tilbury came up. 
 
 " Ah ! " replied Darya Aleksandrovna, and her face showed 
 involuntarily some traces of annoyance. 
 
 The Princess Varvara was her husband's aunt, and she 
 knew her of old, and did not esteem her. She knew that 
 her fondness for luxury had brought her into a humiliating 
 dependence upon rich relatives ; and the fact that she was
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 591 
 
 living at Vronsky's, who was a stranger to her, insulted her 
 through her husband's family. Anna noticed Dolly's disap- 
 proval, was confused, and, dropping the traiu of her riding 
 habit, she .stumbled. 
 
 There was a cool exchange of greetings between Darya 
 Aleksandrovna and the princess ; Sviazhsky asked after his 
 friend Levin and his young wife; then, casting a glance at 
 the old carriage, he invited the ladies to get into the tilbury. 
 
 " I will take this vehicle to go home in, and the princess 
 will take good care of you. She is an excellent driver." 
 
 " Oh, no," Anna interrupted ; " remain as you are. I will 
 go home with Dolly." 
 
 Never had Darya Aleksandrovna seen carriage and horses 
 so brilliant as these ; but what struck her still more was the 
 sort of transfiguration which had come over Anna. Any 
 woman less affectionately observant than herself perhaps 
 would not have noticed anything extraordinary about her. 
 As she saw her, Anna was all aglow with that elusive beauty 
 which comes to a woman through the assurance of love 
 returned. Her smiles which, as it were, flew over her face, 
 her brilliant eyes, her graceful and quick motions, her voice, 
 her whole person, from the dimples of her cheeks and the 
 curve of her lip, with its full, rich sounds, and even the 
 quiet, friendly manner in which she replied to Veslovsk}- 
 when he asked permission to mount her horse, was instinct 
 with a seductive charm. It seemed as if she herself knew 
 it, and was pleased. 
 
 There was an instant of constraint between the two ladies 
 when they found themselves alone in the carriage. Anna 
 felt ill at ease under the questioning eye of Dolly ; and Dolby, 
 understanding Sviazhsky's hint, was in some confusion at 
 her unseemly vehicle, which, indeed, was a dirty old car- 
 riage. The men on the box shared her feeling, but Filipp, 
 the coachman, grew angry, and was unwilling to submit to 
 any such superficial superiority. He put on an ironical 
 smile as he scrutinized the roan black trotter harnessed to 
 the tilbury. " That brute may do very well for a promenazhe, 
 but he can't show forty versts at a heat," he decided, inter- 
 nally, by way of consolation." 
 
 The muzhiks had left their tclyfya, and gayly and curi- 
 ously were watching the meeting of the friends, and making 
 their observations. 
 
 " They seem tolerably glad ; hain't seen each other for 
 some time," remarked the old man.
 
 592 ANNA KAB&NINA. 
 
 " Glian-ka, look! Is that a woman in trousers?" asked 
 another, pointing at Veslovsky sitting on the side-saddle. 
 
 " Nye, muzhik! see how easy he rides." 
 
 " Say, then, my children, we shan't get another nap, shall 
 we?" 
 
 " No more sleep now," said the starik, squinting his eyes 
 and glancing at the sun ; ' ' past noon ! Look ! Now to 
 work." 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 ANNA seeing Dolly tired, worn, and covered with dust, was 
 on the point of saying that she looked thin, but the admira- 
 tion of her own beauty which she read in her friend's eyes 
 checked her, 
 
 " You are studying me? " she said. " You are wondering 
 how I can be so happy in my position ! Na i tcho-zh ! It 
 is shameful to confess it ! my happiness is unpardonable ! 
 What has happened is like a piece of enchantment. I have 
 come out of wretchedness as we come out of a nightmare ; and 
 what a waking it is ! And how especially happy I am now 
 that we are together ! " and she looked at Dolly with a timid 
 smile. 
 
 " How glad I am ! " Dai'ya Alexandrovna answered, more 
 coldly than she wished. " I am glad for you ; but why have 
 you not written me ? " 
 
 "Because I did not dare to. You knew my position." 
 
 " Not dare? to me! If you knew how I" and Dolly 
 was about to tell her about the reflections she had had on the 
 journey, when the thought struck her that the present was no 
 time for that. "We will have our talk by and by," she 
 added. " What is that group of buildings, or little village 
 rather?" she asked, wishing to change the conversation, and 
 pointing to some green and red roofs which appeared through 
 the acacias and lilac trees. 
 
 " No, no ! how do you feel about my position? What do 
 you think of it? tell me ! " Anna went on, without answering 
 her question. 
 
 " I think" began Darya Aleksandrovna ; but at this in- 
 stant Vasenka Veslovsky, in his short jacket, spurring the 
 cob into a galop with his right leg and creaking terribly on 
 the leather side-saddle, went dashing by them. " He goes, 
 Anna Arkadyevna," he shouted. Anna did not even look at 
 him, but again it seemed to Darya Aleksandrovna that it was
 
 ANNA KAIitfNIXA. 593 
 
 impossible to begin on this long conversation in the carriage, 
 and so she said less than she thought. 
 
 "I do not think. I love yon and always have loved 3-011. 
 And when we love people so, we love them for what they 
 are, not for what we wish they were." 
 
 Anna turned her eyes away, half closing them in order 
 better to take in the meaning of the words. This was a new 
 habit which Dolly had never seen in her before. Apparently 
 she interpreted her friend's answer as she wanted, and she 
 looked at Dolly. "If you have any sins, they will all be 
 blotted out by this visit and by your kind words," she said, 
 and turning toward her, Dolly saw that her eyes were dimmed 
 with tears. She silently took her hand. " What are those 
 buildings ? What a lot of them ! " said Dolly, after a moment 
 of silence. 
 
 " Those are the roofs of our buildings, our barns and 
 stables," replied Anna. " It was all neglected, but Aleksi 
 has made it all new again. Here our park begins. He loves 
 the country, and to my great surprise he has developed a 
 passion for farming [khozyd'istvo] . Ah, his is a rich nature ! 
 AVhatever he undertakes he excels in. He not only does not 
 get bored, but he is passionately interested in it. I do not 
 know how, but he is making a capital farmer [khozydtn] , so 
 economical, almost stingy but only in farm ways. For 
 things of other sorts he will spend ten thousand rubles and 
 never give it a thought." She said this with that sweet, pen- 
 sive smile of joy which is peculiar to women when they speak 
 of the men that they love, and their half -secret follies. " Do 
 you see that large building? That is a hospital, his dada 
 [hobby] just now. Do you know what made him build it? 
 I told him he was stingy when a quarrel broke out between 
 him and the peasants about a piece of waste land which they 
 were reclaiming. The hospital was undertaken to prove my 
 charge unjust; c'est une pc-titesse [a weak thing], perhaps, 
 but I love him the'better for it. Now in a moment you'll see 
 the house. It was built by his grandfather, and the outside 
 hasn't been changed at all." 
 
 " How beautiful ! " cried Dolly with involuntary surprise 
 at the sight of a stately house ornamented with a colonnade, 
 and surrounded by trees a century old. 
 
 k ' Isn't it? And the view from the second story is 
 magnificent." 
 
 They came into the dvor (court) paved with small stones
 
 594 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 and ornamented with flower-beds, which two workmen were 
 at this moment surrounding with roughly trimmed stone. 
 They stopped under a fjorte-cochere. 
 
 u They have already arrived," said Anna, as she saw the 
 saddle-horses being led away. " Isn't she a pretty creature? 
 that cob ; she's my favorite ; I love to give her sugar. Where 
 is the count?" she asked of the two servants in livery who 
 came out to receive them. " Ah, here he is ! " added she, 
 perceiving Vronsky with Veslovsky coming to meet them. 
 
 'Where shall we put the princess?" asked Vronsky in 
 French, and without waiting for an answer, turned to Dolly, 
 and having kissed her hand, he said, " In the balcony cham- 
 ber?" 
 
 ' Oh no, that is too far off. In the corner chamber. We 
 shall be nearer one another. Nu ! come, come," said she, 
 giving her favorite horse some sugar that the lackey had 
 brought. 
 
 kt Et vous oubliez votre devoir" [and you are forgetting your 
 duty], she added, turning to Veslovsky, who was already in 
 the porch. 
 
 ' Pardon, fen ai tout pie in les poches " [I have my pockets 
 full], he replied, smiling and thrusting his fingers into his 
 vest pocket. 
 
 ' Mais vous venez trop tard" [but you came too late], she 
 replied, wiping her hand, which the horse had mouthed in 
 taking. the sugar. 
 
 Anna turned to Dolly, 
 
 " You'll stay with us a long time," said she. " Only one 
 day? That is impossible." 
 
 " That is what I promised, and the children," answered 
 the latter, ashamed at the wretched appearance of her poor 
 little traveling-bag and at the dust with which she felt her- 
 self covered. 
 
 " No, Dolly, dushenka. However, we'll talk of that by 
 and b}-. Come up to your room." 
 
 The room was not the chamber of honor which Vronsky 
 offered her, but one where she could be nearer Anna ; but 
 this room was furnished with a luxury such as she was not 
 accustomed to, and which recalled the most sumptuous hotels 
 that she had seen abroad. 
 
 " JVu, dAshenka! how glad I am to see you here, my dear 
 friend," said Anna again, seating herself in her riding 
 habit (amazoitka) before her sister-in-law. " Tell me about
 
 ANNA KAK&NINA. 595 
 
 your family. I saw Stiva just an instant, but he could not 
 tell me anything about the children. How is my liubimitsa 
 [darling] Tania ? IShe must be a great girl ! " 
 
 " Yes, very large," answered Dolly, astonished at finding 
 herself talking so eooly about her children. "We are all 
 living charmingly with the Levins." 
 
 " Vot ! If I had known," said Anna, " that you wouldn't 
 look down on me, ... I should have begged you all to come 
 here. Stiva is an old and good friend of Aleksei's," said 
 Anna, blushing. 
 
 " Da! but we are so well" began Dolly in confusion. 
 
 "Z>a/ I am so happy, I talk nonsense ; only, d&sheiika, I 
 am so glad to see you," said Anna, kissing her again. 
 'But promise me to be frank, and tell me what you think 
 about me ; I want to know all. But I am so glad that you see 
 me just as I am. My only idea, you see, is to live without 
 hurting anybody. I don't want to hurt anybody ; I want 
 simply to live and not give pain to any one but myself. Am 
 I not right about it? However, we'll talk of all this at our 
 leisure. Now I'm going to change my dress ; I will send 
 you a waiting-maid." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 DOLLY, when left alone, examined her chamber with the 
 eyes of a genuine Jchozydika. All that she saw as she went 
 through the house, and all that she saw in the room, 
 impressed her by its richness and elegance, and this new 
 European luxury, which she had read about in English 
 novels, she had never seen before in Russia, and especially 
 not in the country. All was new, from the French tapes- 
 tries to the carpet, which covered the whole room, the bed 
 with its hair mattress, the marble toilet-table, the bronzes on 
 the mantel, the rugs, the curtains, all was new and elegant 
 to the last degree. 
 
 The smart waiting-maid who came to offer her services 
 was dressed with much more style than Dolly, who felt con- 
 fused at taking out before her, her poor toilet articles from 
 her bag, especially a mended nightdress, which she had 
 happened to put in by mistake from among her oldest ones. 
 When she was at home these devices had their advantage, 
 for they represented economy in a small way ; but in pres- 
 ence of this brilliant attendant, they made her ashamed.
 
 596 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 Fortunately, the girl was called away by her mistress, 
 and, to Dolly's great satisfaction, her old acquaintance, 
 Annushka, took her place. 
 
 Annushka, overjoyed at seeing Darya Aleksandrovna again, 
 prattled on to her heart's content about her dear baruina, 
 and the love and tenderness which the count showed Anna 
 Arkadyevna. Dolly tried to stop her, but she persisted in 
 speaking. 
 
 " I grew up with Anna Arkad}'evna, and love her more 
 than the whole world. It's not my place to judge her, and 
 she seems to love " 
 
 " Please have these washed," said Darya Aleksandrovna. 
 
 "I will obey. We have two women especially for the 
 laundry, but the washing is done all by machinery. The 
 count looks out for everything. He is such a husband " 
 
 Dolly was glad when Anna came in and put an end to the 
 babbling Annushka's confidences. 
 
 Anna was dressed in a very simple cambric dress. Dolly 
 noticed particularly this simple dress. She knew what this 
 simplicity meant, and how much money it represented. 
 
 " An old acquaintance," said Anna to Annushka. 
 
 Anna now was no longer confused. She was perfectly 
 calm and self-possessed. Dolly saw that now she was 
 entirely free from the excitement that took possession of her 
 when she first came, and had assumed that superficial tone 
 of indifference which, as it were, closed the door to the 
 expression of real thought and feelings. 
 
 " Nu! but how is your daughter?" asked Dolly. 
 
 " Ani? ver}' well. Should you like to see her? I'll show 
 her to you. We have had great trouble with her Italian 
 nurse, a good woman, but so stupid ; still, the little thing is 
 so much attached to her, we have to keep her." 
 
 " But how have you done about?" began Dolly, wishing 
 to ask about the child's name ; but she stopped, as she saw 
 Anna's countenance fall, and changed the ending of the 
 question. "Have you weaned her?" 
 
 Anna understood. 
 
 " That is not what you were going to say." You were 
 thinking of the child's name, weren't you? It is the great 
 grief of Aleksei that she hasn't any name ; that is, she is 
 Kare"nina," and she half-closed her eyes. " We will talk 
 again about all that; come, and I'll show her to you. Elle 
 est trds gentitte; she is already beginning to walk."
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 597 
 
 The nursery, a high, spacious, and well-lighted room, was 
 fitted up with the same stunptuousness as the rest of the 
 house. There were the baby-coaches which came from Eng- 
 land, and the inventions for teaching children to walk, the 
 bath-tubs, swings ; all were new, beautiful, solid, of Eng- 
 lish make, and evidently very costly. The child was seated 
 in an arm-chair by the table, with an apron on, was eating 
 her broth and spilling it all over her dress. A Russian maid- 
 servant was helping her, and at the same time was herself 
 eating. Neither the French maid nor the nurse was present, 
 but one could hear from a neighboring room the French 
 jargon by which they made themselves understand each other. 
 The English maid appeared as soon as she heard Anna's 
 voice, and made plentiful excuses, although no one had 
 blamed her. She was a large woman with blonde curls, which 
 shook when she talked, and had an unpleasant face, which 
 Dolly disliked. Whenever Anna spoke, she answered, " Yes, 
 my lady." 
 
 As for the child, her black hair and healthy color, and her 
 amusing way of creeping, won Darya Aleksandrovna's heart, 
 with her dress tucked up behind, and her beautiful eyes 
 watching those who were looking at her, as if she understood 
 that she was being admired. Then, when she was put down 
 on the carpet, she crept energetically towards them on her 
 hands and knees, like some pretty animal. But the whole at- 
 mosphere of the nursery, and especially the English maid, 
 struck Darya Aleksandrovna very unpleasantly. She could 
 not understand how Anna, with her knowledge of people, 
 could be willing to put up with such an unsympathetic, vulgar 
 maid. Was it because they could not find a respectable 
 person who would consent to live in an irregular family ? 
 
 Dolly, after a few words, observed that Anna, the nurse, 
 the maid, and the child were not much wonted to each other, 
 and that the mother was almost a stranger in this part of the 
 house. She could not find any of the child's playthings, and 
 strangest of all, she didn't know how many teeth the child 
 had! 
 
 " It is always a grief to me that I am so useless here, "said 
 Anna, as they went out, holding up the train of her dress so 
 that it should not catch on any of the toys by the door. " It 
 was not so with my oldest. " 
 
 "I thought, on the contrary," began Dolly timidly. 
 
 u Oh, no ! You know that I have seen Serozha again,"
 
 598 ANNA KAEtfXIXA. 
 
 said she, looking fixedly before her, as if she sought for 
 something faraway. ' You can't believe but I urn like 
 a person dying of starvation, who finds a banquet before her, 
 and does not know how to begin. You are this banquet for 
 me. With whom could I speak openly if not with you? I 
 shall ask for nothing more when we can have a quiet talk 
 together. Mais je ne vous ferai grace de rien [I shall not 
 spare you anything]. I must tell you all." 
 
 ' ; Da ! I want to give you a sketch, now, of the people you 
 will meet here," she began. "First, the Princess Vtirvara. 
 You know her, and I know 3'our opinion and Stiva's. Stiva 
 says her whole aim of life consists in proving her pre-eminence 
 over Aunt Katerina Pavlovna. That is true of her ; but she 
 has some good in her, I assure you, and I am under many 
 obligations to her. She was of great help to me at Peters- 
 burg, when un chaperon was indispensable. You don't know 
 how difficult my position was, there in Petersburg ! Here I 
 am very comfortable and happy. jVw, da! but about this 
 afterwards. To return to our guests. Then there's Sviazh- 
 sky ; he is the marshal of the district, and a very clever man, 
 and he needed Alekse'i for something. You see, with his 
 fortune, now, as we live in the country, Alekse'i can gain a 
 wide influence. Then, Tushkie' vitch ; you have met him ; he 
 was at Betsy's ; now they sent him off, and he came to visit 
 ns. As Aleks6i says, he is one of those very agreeable men, 
 if one takes him just as he wishes to appear, et puis il est 
 comme il faut, as the Princess Varvara says. And then 
 Veslovsky ; you know him. A very good fellow. How 
 about that absurd story he told of Levin ? Veslovsky told 
 Aleksei, and we don't believe it, as il est tres gentil et naif" 
 [he's very nice and very unaffected], she added, smiling. 
 "I have to entertain all these people, because men need 
 amusement, and Aleksei needs society ; and we have to have 
 it lively and gay, else Alekse'i finds time to want something 
 new. We also have with us the surveyor. He is a German, 
 a very good man ; understands his business ; Aleksei has 
 great esteem for him. Then there's the doctor, a young 
 man, who is not exactly a Nihilist, but, you know, he eats 
 with his knife. Then the architect, une petite cour" [a 
 little court ] .
 
 ANNA KARJSNINA. 599 
 
 XX. 
 
 " Nn! here we have Doll}*, Princess, whom you wished so 
 much to see," said Antia to the Priucess Varvara, who was 
 seated on the great stone terrace, in the shade, with her 
 embroidery frame in front of her. " She says that she does 
 not want anything before dinner, but try to make her take 
 some breakfast, while I go and find the gentlemen." 
 
 The Princess Varvara gave Dolly a gracious and conde- 
 scending reception, and immediate!}' began to explain that she 
 had come to live with Anna because she loved her more than 
 her sister, Katerina Pavlovna, and because, now when all were 
 abandoning Anna, she wanted to be of assistance to her at this 
 trying period of transition. 
 
 '" When her husband has consented to a divorce, I shall go 
 back to my solitude ; but however painful it may be, I shall 
 stay here for the present, and not imitate the example of 
 others. And how kind you are ; how good of you to make 
 this visit ! They live exactly like the very best married 
 people. Let God judge them ; it is not for us. It was just 
 so with Biriuzovsky and Madame Avenyeva, and then 
 Yasiliyef and Madame Mamonova, and Liza Neptunova. 
 You see they don't say anything about them, and in the end 
 they will be received. And then c'est un inttrieur sijoli, si 
 comme il fant. Tout-a-fait & I'anglaise. On se reunit le 
 matin au breakfast etpuis on se separe. [They have a perfect 
 establishment, and the inside of their house is so charming, 
 so stylish. It is altogether English. The family meets at 
 breakfast and then separates.] Every one does just as he 
 pleases. They dine at seven. Stiva was wise to send you ; 
 he would better keep on good terms with them. You know 
 the count has great influence through his mother and his 
 brother. And then he is most generous. Have they told 
 you about the hospital? a sera admirable! [It's going 
 to be excellent !] Everything comes from Paris." 
 
 This conversation was interrupted by Anna, who returned 
 to the terrace, followed by the gentlemen, whom she had 
 found in the billiard-room. 
 
 It was a superb day ; there was every facility for diversion, 
 and several hours would pass before dinner-time. 
 
 Veslovsky proposed " une partie de laicn tennis. I'll take 
 one side with you again, Anna Arkadyevna," he said with 
 his gay, contagious smile.
 
 600 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 " No, it is too warm ; suppose we go into the park, and 
 take Darya Aleksandrovua out in the boat to show her the 
 landscape," said Vronsky. 
 
 Veslovsky and Tushkievitch went to get the boat read}*, 
 and the two ladies, with the count and Sviazhsky, took the 
 paths to the park. 
 
 Dolly was somewhat confused and embarrassed by this 
 absolutely novel environment in which she found herself. 
 Abstractly, theoretically, she not only justified, but she was 
 disposed even to approve of Anna's conduct. Like the 
 majority of irreproachably virtuous women, wearying often 
 of the monotony of a virtuous life, Dolly from a distance 
 excused illicit love, and even envied it a little. Moreover, 
 she loved Anna with all her heart. 
 
 But in reality, when she found herself among these 
 strangers, with their fashionable ways, she was thoroughly ill 
 at ease. The Princess Varvara forgiving everything, because 
 she could thereby share in her niece's luxury, was odious. 
 
 She might be disposed to excuse Anna's conduct, but the 
 sight of the man for whom she had taken this step was unpleas- 
 ant to her. Vronsk}* was not congenial to her at any time ; 
 she thought him proud, and could see no reason except his 
 wealth to justify his haughtiness. Still, he was rather 
 imposing as master of the house, and she felt humiliated 
 before him, just as she had felt when the maid took the 
 patched gown from her valise. 
 
 She hardly ventured to make him a commonplace compli- 
 ment on the beauty of his place, and as she walked beside 
 him she was at a loss for a subject of conversation. How- 
 ever, for want of anything better, she ventured a few words 
 in admiration of his house. 
 
 "Yes, it is a very handsome building, and in good old 
 style," replied the count. 
 
 "I liked the dvor [court] in front of the steps; was it 
 always so ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! If you had only seen it in the spring ! " And 
 little by little, at first coldly, but wanning as he went on, he 
 pointed out to Dolly the many improvements he had made. 
 His listener's praises gave him evident pleasure. 
 
 " If you are not tired, we might go as far as the hospital," 
 said he, looking at Dolly to make sure that his proposition 
 would not bore her. 
 
 "Shall we, Anna?"
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 601 
 
 " Yes. Shall we not? " she said, turning to Sviazhsky ; 
 " mats il ne faut pas laisser le jmuvre Veslovsky et Tuslie- 
 vitch se moffondre III dans le bateau ! [but not leave these 
 gentlemen to wait in vain for us in the boat] ; we must let 
 them know. Da! This is a monument to his glory," said 
 she to Dolly, with the same smile which she bore when she 
 first spoke of the hospital. 
 
 " O capital deed ! " said Sviazhsky ; and then, not to seem 
 like a flatterer, he added, 
 
 " I am surprised, Count, that you, who are doing so much 
 for the peasants' sanitary matters, are so indifferent to 
 schools." 
 
 k ' C'est devenu tellement commun les ecoles" [schools are so 
 common], replied Vronsky. "You must know I do this to 
 amuse myself. This way, ladies," and he led them into a 
 side-path. 
 
 Upon leaving the garden, Dolly saw a great red brick 
 building before her, of complicated architecture, whose roof 
 glittered in the sun. At the side rose another building. 
 
 " How rapidly the work is going on," remarked Sviazhsky. 
 " The last time I was here the roof was not in position." 
 
 " It will be done by autumn, for the inside is finished now," 
 said Anna. 
 
 ' k AVhat else are you building ? " 
 
 " A house for the doctor, and a pharmacy," replied 
 Vronsky ; and seeing the architect, in a short overcoat, ap- 
 proaching, he excused himself to the ladies, and went to 
 meet him. Going round the mortar pit, into which the work- 
 men were throwing lime, he joined the architect and began to 
 talk angrily with him. 
 
 " The pediment is going to be too low," he replied to 
 Anna, who asked him what the trouble was. 
 
 '" I said that the foundation ought to be raised," said Anna. 
 
 " Da! Of course, it would have been better, Anna Arka- 
 dyevna," said the architect ; " cZa, it was a mistake." 
 
 " Da! I am very much interested in him," said Anna, in 
 reply to Sviazhsky, who asked her about her acquaintance 
 with the architect. " The new buildings must correspond 
 with the hospital. But this was thought of afterwards, and 
 lieuun without any plan." 
 
 After his talk with the architect, he offered to show Dolly 
 the inside of the building. Though the outside and the lower 
 part of the buildiug was almost finished, on the upper floors
 
 602 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 scarcely anything was clone. They went up by a broad, 
 cast-iron staircase to the second story, and entered the first 
 great dormitory. The walls were stuccoed, and lighted by 
 huge panes of glass ; only the floors were yet to be finished. 
 Vronsky explained the arrangement of the rooms, the new 
 apparatus for heat and ventilation ; and the visitors admired 
 the marble bath-rooms and the beds with extraordinary 
 springs, the litters, and the reclining chairs. 
 
 Sviazhsky. and especially Dolly, were surprised at all they 
 saw, and asked many questions, not disguising their admira- 
 tion. 
 
 "Da! I think this hospital will be the only one of the 
 kind in Russia," remarked Sviazhsky, quite capable of admir- 
 ing the count's improvements. 
 
 Doll}' was interested in everything. Vronsky was pleased 
 with the admiration he received, and being full of hearty 
 animation, the impression which he made upon her was de- 
 cidedly favorable. 
 
 " Da! he is certainly good, and worthy to be loved," she 
 thought, and she understood Anna, how it was that Anna 
 came to love him. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " No ; the princess must be tired, and the horses will not 
 interest her," said Vronsky to Anna, who had proposed to 
 show Dolly the stable, where there was a new stallion that 
 Sviazhsky wished to see. 
 
 " You go there, and I will escort the princess back to the 
 house. And if you please," added he to Dolly, " we will talk 
 a little on the way." 
 
 " Very willingly, for I'm not a connoisseur in horses," she 
 answered, seeing by Vronsky's face that he had something 
 special to say to her. 
 
 Accordingly, when Anna had gone, he said, looking at 
 Dolly with his smiling eyes, ' I am not mistaken, am I, in 
 believing you to be a sincere friend of Anna's ? " and he took 
 off his hat to wipe his forehead. 
 
 Dolly could not imagine what he was going to ask of her. 
 The thought came into her head : " He is going to ask me to 
 come and visit them with my children, or to get society for 
 Anna when she comes to Moscow. Or is he going to speak 
 of Vasenka Veslovsky and his attentions to Anna ; or of
 
 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 603 
 
 Kitty ; or to confess himself to blame ? " She was greatly 
 disturbed in her mind. 
 
 " You have such an influence over Anna. She loves you 
 so," said the count, after a moment's pause ; " give me your 
 help." 
 
 Dolly looked into Vronsky's serious, strong face, without 
 answering. 
 
 " Of all Anna's friends, you are the only one who has 
 come to see her I do not count the Princess Varvara I 
 know very well it is not because }'ou approve of our position ; 
 it is because you love Anna, and knowing the cruelty of her 
 position, want to help her. Am I right? " 
 
 " Yes," said Darya Aleksaudrovna, shutting up her sun- 
 shade, " but" 
 
 " No one could feel more deeply than I do the cruel diffi- 
 culties of our life," said Vronsky, stopping and making Dolly 
 stop. " And you will easily admit it if you do me the honor 
 to believe that I am not heartless. I am the cause of her 
 trouble, and therefore I feel it." 
 
 " Certainly ; but aren't you exaggerating difficulties ? " said 
 Dolly, sincerely affected by what he said. " In society, her 
 position is hard, I admit." 
 
 "In society it is hell!" said he, savagely frowning; 
 "you can't conceive the moral tortures Anna endured at 
 Petersburg on those days ; and I beg you to believe " 
 
 " Da! but here? And neither she nor you feel the need 
 of a society life." 
 
 "Society! why should I need it?" exclaimed Vronsky 
 scornfully. 
 
 "You dispense with it easily, and perhaps you always 
 will." 
 
 "I see in Anna that she is happy, perfectly happy, and 
 she has had time to tell me that she is." 
 
 And while she spoke, the thought struck Dolly that Anna 
 might not have been quite frank. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know that she has revived after all her suffer- 
 ings. She is happy she is happy now. But I?" said 
 Vronsky. " I am afraid of what the future holds for us, 
 excuse me ; do you want to go? " 
 
 " No, it is immaterial. N*l let us sit down here." 
 
 Darya Aleksandrovna sat down on a garden bench in a nook 
 of the walk. He was standing in front of her. 
 
 " I see that she seems happy ; but will it last? Whether
 
 604 ANNA KARtfNIXA. 
 
 we did right or wrong is a hard question ; but the die is 
 cast," he said, changing from Russian to French, " and we 
 are joined for lite ; we are joined by the ties of love. We 
 have one child, and we may have others. But the law and 
 all the conditions of our state are such that there are a thou- 
 sand complications, which Anna, now that she is resting 
 after her afflictions and sufferings, does not see and will not 
 see. It is natural ; but I cannot help seeing. My daughter, 
 according to the law, is not my daughter, but Karenin's, and 
 I do not like this falsehood," said he, with an energetic ges- 
 ture of negation, and looking at Darya Aleksandrovna with 
 a gloomy, questioning face. 
 
 She did not reply, but simply looked at him. He con- 
 tinued, 
 
 "To-morrow a son may be born my son and by law 
 he would be a Karenin, and could inherit neither my name 
 nor my property. You understand the cruelty, the horror, of 
 this state of things? I try to explain this to Anna. It irri- 
 tates her she will not understand me, and I cannot tell her 
 all. Now look at the result. I have here an object for my 
 activity which interests me, and which I am proud of ; cela 
 n'est pas un pis aller [it is by no means a last resort] ; far 
 from it ; but to work strongly, one must work for others be- 
 sides one's self, and I can have no heirs. Conceive the feel- 
 ings of a man who knows that his children and those of the 
 wife he worships, do not belong to him ; that their father hates 
 them, and would never recognize them. Isn't it horrible?" 
 
 He was silent and deeply moved. 
 
 " Yes, of course," said Darya Aleksandrovna ; " I under- 
 stand this. But what can Anna do?" 
 
 " Da! That brings me to the purpose of this talk," said 
 the count, trying to control himself. "Anna can get a di- 
 vorce. It depends on her. Her husband consented to that 
 when your husband asked him about it, and I know that he 
 would not refuse ; at all events, if Anna wrote to him. He 
 said up and down that he would consent, if Anna would 
 apply for it. Of course," he added, " this condition is one of 
 those Pharasaic cruelties, of which only heartless people are 
 capable. He knows what torture all remembrance of him 
 h:is for her, and so he exacts this letter from her. I under- 
 stand that it is painful to her. She ought to be above these 
 excessive sensibilities ; her happiness is involved, as well 
 as her children's. But the reasons are so imperative, that
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 605 
 
 she must passer pardessus tontes ces finesses de sentiment. H 
 va du bonheur et de I'existence d'Anna, et de ces enfants. I 
 don't speak about myself, though it is painful, very painful, 
 to me. And this is the reason 1 am speaking to you, Prin- 
 cess, as to one who can save us. Help me to persuade Anna 
 of the need of getting a divorce." 
 
 "I will," said Dolly, remembering her talk with Kare'nin. 
 " But why does she not think of it herself?" thought she. 
 She recalled Anna's half-shut eyes ; this new habit seemed 
 to indicate some inner thoughts which, perhaps, she wished 
 to put far from her, to efface entirely, if that were possi- 
 ble. 
 
 ''Yes, I will speak to her, certainly; both for your sake 
 and for hers," repeated Dolly, in response to Vronsky's 
 grateful look. And they went towards the house. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " Diis*NERris nearly ready, and we have hardly seen one an- 
 other," said Anna, coming in ; and she tried to read in 
 Dolly's eyes what had passed between her and Vronsky. 
 " I count on this evening ; and now we must go and change 
 our dresses, after our visit to the hospital." 
 
 Dolly went to her room, and felt ridiculous. She had no 
 change to make, since she had worn her best dress ; but in 
 order to make some change in her toilette, she fastened a 
 knot of ribbon at her throat, put a bit of lace in her hah', 
 and brushed herself. 
 
 " It is all I could do," she said, laughingly, to Anna, who 
 came to look after her, dressed in a third costume. 
 
 " Da! we are very formal here," said Anna, in apology 
 for her elegant attire. "Aleks6i is so glad that you came. 
 I believe he has fallen in love with you." 
 
 Going down to the parlor, they found the Princess Var- 
 vara and the gentlemen already waiting. Only the architect 
 was without a dress coat, and they passed into the dining- 
 room. Vronsky begged Sviazhsky to hand in Anna Arka- 
 dyevna ; he himself went with Dolly ; Veslovsky anticipated 
 Tnskivitch in offering his arm to the Princess Varvara, and 
 Tuskievitoh went with the doctor. 
 
 The dinner, and the table-service, and all this new kind of 
 luxury which she saw. interested Dolly. She was mistress 
 of a house, and knew that nothing goes right, eveu in a
 
 606 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 modest establishment, without a head ; and from the way in 
 which the count looked around him, and made signals to the 
 butler, and offered her the choice between botvinya and soup, 
 she saw that the superintendence came from him. Anna 
 had no more to do with it than Veslovsky had ; she was a 
 mere guest like the rest. 
 
 Only as far as conversation went was Anna khozy&ika, 
 and thus conversation was b}' no means easy among guests 
 belonging to such different spheres of life. But she had a 
 word for every one, including the superintendent and the 
 architect, and she went through with her task with her usual 
 tact and simplicity, and even with pleasure, as Darya Alek- 
 sandrovna noticed. 
 
 The conversation turned first on the way in which Tuski- 
 vitch had been left alone in the boat, and that led Tuskie- 
 vitch to speak of the recent }'acht-race at Petersburg. But 
 Anna, taking advantage of a lull, quickly turned to the archi- 
 tect, in order to bring him out. 
 
 " Nikolai' Ivanuitch was surprised," said she, referring to 
 Sviazhsky, "to see how the new building had grown since he 
 was here last. But I myself see it every day, and every day 
 I am surprised myself to see how fast it goes." 
 
 "It is good to work with his Excellency," said the archi- 
 tect. " You don't do such work under government patron- 
 age. When they would write reams of paper, as I told the 
 count, we do it in three words." 
 
 " American ways," suggested Sviazhsky. "Da! buildings 
 there are raised rationally." 
 
 The conversation then went off on the abuse of power in 
 the United States ; but Anna immediately started him on a 
 third theme, in order to bring out the superintendent. 
 
 "Have you ever seen the steam reaping machines?" she 
 asked of Darya Aloksandrovna. "We were just going to 
 see it when we met you. I never saw one before." 
 
 " How do they work?" asked Dolly- 
 
 "Just like scissors. A plank and lots of little knives. 
 Like this !" Anna took a knife and fork into her beautiful 
 white hands and tried to show her. She apparently saw 
 that she did not make herself very clear, but knowing that 
 she spoke pleasant!} 7 and that her hands were beautiful, she 
 continued her explanations. 
 
 " Better say a pen-knife ! " said Veslovsky, jestingly, not 
 taking his eyes from her. Anna smiled, but she did not reply.
 
 ANNA KARBNINA. 607 
 
 " Am I not right, Karl, that they are like scissors?" she 
 said, appealing to the director. 
 
 ' 0/i, ja " [Oh, yes] , replied the German. " Es ist ein ganz 
 einfaclies Ding" [it is a very simple thing], and he began to 
 explain the construction of the machine. 
 
 The German drew out of his pocket a pencil and a note- 
 book, and tried to refute some of Sviazhsky's objections. 
 " Zu complidrt, macht zu viel klopots" [Too complicated, 
 makes too much bother], he said in conclusion. 
 
 "' W/inscht man Dochols, so hat man auch klopots" [If one 
 wants money, he must have bother], said Vdsenka Veslovsky, 
 making sport of the German. ''J' adore Vallemand " [I adore 
 German], he said with a peculiar smile, turning to Anna. 
 
 " Cessez!" '[Hush], said she, with affected sternness. 
 
 " We expected to find you on the field," said she to the 
 doctor, who was somewhat infirm. "Were you there?" 
 
 And so the conversation went on in a general way on 
 various topics, all taking part. 
 
 Once Darya Aleksandrovna was touched to the quick at 
 hearing Sviazhsky criticise Levin's opinions about the harm- 
 fulness of machinery in Russian agriculture. 
 
 " I have not the pleasure of knowing this gentleman, 
 Levin, but probably he has never seen the machines he 
 criticises. But if he has seen machines, they must have 
 been Russian ones and not the foreign make. What can be 
 his point of view?" 
 
 " A Turkish point of view," said Anna, smiling at 
 Veslovsky. 
 
 "I cannot defend opinions which I do not know," said 
 Dolly, reddening ; " but Levin is a thoroughly intelligent 
 man, and I know that he could explain his ideas to you if 
 he were here." 
 
 " Oh, I am very fond of him, and we are excellent 
 friends," said Sviazhsky, smiling; " mats pardon, il est tin 
 petit peu toque [but he is a little cracked]. He considers 
 the zemstvo and the justices of the peace everything en- 
 tirely useless will have nothing to do with them." 
 
 " There's our Russian indifference ! " exclaimed Vronsky, 
 filling his goblet with ice-water from a carafe. " Rather 
 than give ourselves the trouble of understanding new duties, 
 we find it simpler to ignore them." 
 
 " I don't know any one who is more strict in the fulfil- 
 ment of his duties," said Dolly, irritated by Vronsky's 
 superior tone.
 
 608 ANNA KAEENINA. 
 
 " I, on the contrary," said Vronsky, evidently somewhat 
 piqued, " am very sensible, as you see, of the honor which 
 has been done me, thanks to Nikolai' Ivauovitch, in my 
 appointment as honorary justice of the peace. The duty of 
 judging the affairs of a muzhik seems to me as important as 
 anything that I could do. It is my only way of repaying 
 society for the privileges I enjoy as landed proprietor." 
 
 Yrousky's assurance that he was in the right seemed 
 very strange to Darya Aleksandrovna. She knew that 
 Levin, whose' opinions were diametrically opposite, was 
 equally firm on his side ; but, as she loved the latter, she 
 thought he must be right. 
 
 " Well, we can depend upon you at the election," said 
 Sviazhsky. "Perhaps we ought to leave by'the 8th. Will 
 you do me the honor to go with me, Count?" 
 
 "For my part," said Anna, "I pretty much agree with 
 your beau frere, though for different reasons. I am afraid 
 that now-a-days we are getting to have too many of these 
 public duties, just as in old times there were so many tchinov- 
 niks that there was a tchinovnik for everything ; so now 
 every one is becoming a public functionary. Aleksei has 
 been here six months and is already a member of five or six 
 different commissions trustee \_popetchitel'], judge, town 
 counsehnan, juryman I don't know what else. Du train 
 que cela va [at this rate] all his time will be spent on it. And I 
 am afraid if these things are multiplied so, that it will be only 
 a matter of form. You have ever so many offices, Nikolai 
 Ivanuitch, have you not? at least twent}*, haven't you?" she 
 asked, turning towards Sviazhsky. 
 
 Anna spoke jestingly, but in her tone there was a shade of 
 irritation, Darya Aleksandrovna, who was watching Anna 
 and Vronsky attentive!} 7 , immediately noticed it. She saw also 
 that the Count's face assumed a resolute and vexed expres- 
 sion, and that the Princess Varvara made haste to talk about 
 some Petersburg acquaintances, so as to change the subject ; 
 and remembering what Vronsky had told her in the garden 
 about his pleasure in activity, she felt certain that this con- 
 versation had something to do with a secret quarrel between 
 Vronsky and Anna. 
 
 The dinner, the wines, the service, were luxurious, but 
 everything seemed to Darya Aleksandrovna formal and im- 
 personal, like the state dinners that she had seen, and it 
 made a disagreeable impression upon her.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 609 
 
 After dinner they went out upon the terrace. A game of 
 lawn tennis was arranged. Dolly at first attempted to play, 
 but soon gave it up, and went to sit with the Princess Var- 
 vara, who was watching the others. Vronsky and Sviazhsky 
 played in earnest, but Veslovsky was a poor player. He got 
 too excited, but he greatly amused the others. His jests and 
 shouts n?ver ceased. Like the other men he took oli "his coat 
 and played in his shirt-sleeves, and his tall, well-shaped fig- 
 ure and his ruddy, warm face, and his violent motions made 
 quite a vivid picture. But Darya Aleksandrovna did not 
 enjoy the hour while they were playing. She thought the be- 
 havior of Vasenka Veslovsky and Anna exceedingly child- 
 ish. But seeing that the others were enjoying themselves 
 she looked on and made believe that she was ga}'. All that 
 day it seemed to her as if she were acting in a comedy with 
 better actors than herself. 
 
 A passionate desire to see her children seized her, to take 
 up again that domestic yoke which this morning had seemed 
 oppressive. She made up her mind to go home the next day, 
 although she had come intending to stay for two days. 
 When she went to her room after tea, and after a moonlight 
 row in the boat, she felt thoroughly relieved. She went 
 alone to her room, took off her dress, and began to put up 
 her hair for the night. It was even unpleasant to think that 
 Anna would soon be in to see her. She would have pre- 
 ferred to be alone with her thoughts. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 JUST as she was feeling ready to go to bed, the door opened, 
 and Anna came in, with a white dressing-gown on. 
 
 All day, ever}- time that Anna had been on the point of 
 speaking intimately, she had put it off, saying, " Bye and bye ; 
 when we are alone, we will talk. I must tell you every-, 
 thing." But now that they were alone, Anna did not know 
 how to begin. She sat by the window looking at Dolly, and 
 it seemed to her as if she had already told all that was in her 
 heart to tell. 
 
 " Nu! What about Kitty?" asked Anna, sighing deeply, 
 and looking guiltily at Dolly. " Tell me the truth, Dolly ; 
 is she offended with me ? " 
 
 "Angry? No," answered Dolly, smiling. 
 
 " Doesn't she hate doesn't she despise me?"
 
 610 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 " Oh, no ; but -you know this is not pardonable." 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Anna, turning towards the open window. 
 " But 1 was not to blame ! And who is to blame? and what 
 is there blameworthy about it? Could it have been other- 
 wise? Nu! How do you think? Could you have helped 
 being Stiva's wife ? " 
 
 " I don't know what to answer ; but you must tell me " 
 
 " Da, da! But finish telling me about Kitty. Is she 
 happy? They say her husband is an excellent man." 
 
 " That's too little to say, that he's excellent; I don't know 
 a better man." 
 
 " Ach ! How glad I am ! I am very glad. Little to say 
 that he's an excellent man ? " 
 
 Dolly smiled. 
 
 " But tell me about yourself," said Dolly. " I have talked 
 with " She did not know what to call Vronsky whether 
 Count or Aleks^i Kirillovitch. 
 
 "With Alekse'i, yes; I know that you talked with him. 
 But I want you to tell me honestly what you think of me 
 of my life." 
 
 " How can I tell you? I don't know what to say." 
 
 " No ; you cannot tell at all. But you see my life. Don't 
 forget that you see us with people, and we are not alone 
 but we came in the spring, we lived alone, and we shall live 
 alone again. I ask for nothing better than living alone with 
 him. But imagining that I ma}- live alone without him, 
 absolutely alone, but I see that this ma}- be repeated 
 that he may spend half of his time away from home ; then 
 imagine what the loneliness would be for me ! " she said, 
 and getting up, she sat down by Dolly. " Oh, of course," 
 she said quickly, interrupting Dolly, who was about to 
 speak, "Of course, I cannot keep him by force, I don't 
 keep him. To-day there's a race ; his horses race ; he goes. 
 Very glad ! But you think of me ; imagine my situation. 
 Da! what can I say about it?" she smiled. "But what 
 did he talk with you about?" 
 
 4t He spoke about a matter which I myself wanted to talk 
 over with you ; and it is easy for me to be an advocate of 
 it, about this : whether it is not possible or necessary to 
 to improve, make your position legal. You know how I 
 look at but anyhow, if possible, a marriage must take 
 place." 
 
 " You mean divorce? Do you know, the only woman who
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 611 
 
 came to see me in Petersburg was Betsy Tverskai'a. Per- 
 haps you know her. Au fond c'est lafemme la phis deprav&e 
 qui existe [At heart she is the wickedest woman in the world] ; 
 she deceived her husband she and this Tuskie"vitch ; but 
 she told me that she did not wish to know me, because my 
 position was illegal ! Don't think that I compare I know 
 3'ou, dushenka moya [my dear soul]. But I could not help 
 remembering it. Nu ! What did he say ? " 
 
 ' lie said that he suffered both for you and for himself ; 
 maybe you will say that it is egoism, but what an honorable 
 and noble egoism! He wishes to make his daughter legiti- 
 mate, and to be your husband and have rights over you." 
 
 " What wife, what slave, could be more of a slave than I, 
 in my position?" she interrupted angrily. 
 
 " The main reason that he wished it was that you might 
 not suffer." 
 
 "This is impossible. Nu?" 
 
 "Ntt ! to make his children legitimate, to give them a name." 
 
 " What children ?" said Anna, not looking at Dolly, but 
 half -closing her eyes. 
 
 " Ani, and those that may come to you." 
 
 " Oh, he can be easy ; I shall not have any more." 
 
 " How can you answer so? " 
 
 " Because 1 will not have an}' more ; " and in spite of her 
 emotion, Anna smiled at the expression of astonishment, of 
 naive curiosity and horror depicted on Dolly's face. "After 
 my illness the doctor told me " 
 
 " It is impossible," exclaimed Dolty, looking at Anna with 
 wide eyes of amazement. 
 
 What she had just heard put all her thoughts to confusion, 
 and the deductions which she drew enlightened her upon 
 several points which had hitherto been mysterious. 
 
 Had she not dreamed something of the sort on her journey ? 
 But now this simple answer to a complicated question 
 frightened her. 
 
 " N'est ce pas immoral?" she asked, after a moment's 
 silence. 
 
 ' ' Wh}' ? Do not forget that I must choose between being 
 tolerated or being the companion of my husband ; for so I 
 consider him. If that is a doubtful fact to you, it is not so 
 to me. I am his wife only as long as he loves me, and I 
 must keep his love." 
 
 Dolly was absorbed in the crowd of reflections which these 
 confidences had awakened in her.
 
 612 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 " Da!" she thought, " I have not tried to keep Stiva ; but 
 has she who took him from me kept him either? She was 
 young and pretty, but that did nut prevent Stiva from 
 leaving her too. And will the count be held by the means 
 which Anna employs? When he likes, will he not find a yet 
 more fascinating woman, just as my abominable, wretched, 
 and guilty husband has done?" 
 
 She sighed deeply. 
 
 " You say it is immoral," resumed Anna, feeling that 
 Dolly disapproved of her. " How can I want children? It 
 is not the suffering, I am not afraid of that. But think what 
 my children will be, unfortunate beings without a name ! 
 destined to blush at their father, their mother, their birth." 
 
 " Da! that is the reason you should get a divorce." 
 
 Anna did not hear ; she wanted to finish her argument. 
 
 " Why was reason given me if I cannot use it to prevent 
 the birth of more unhappy beings?" 
 
 She looked at Dolly, but not waiting for answer, she 
 went on. 
 
 " I should always feel my guilt towards these unhappy 
 children. If they do not exist, they will not know misery ; 
 but if they exist and suffer, then I am to blame." 
 
 These were the same arguments that Darya Aleksandrovna 
 had used to herself, but now she listened and did not under- 
 stand the n. She said to herself, 
 
 " How can one be culpable with regard to non-existent 
 existences?" And suddenly the thought came, "Could it 
 have been possibly any better if her darling Grisha had never 
 existed?" and it struck so unpleasantly, so strangely, that 
 she shook her head to chase away the cloud of maddening 
 thoughts that came into her mind. 
 
 " No, I do not know ; I believe it wrong," she said, with 
 an expression of disgust. 
 
 " Da! but don't you forget that you are not in the same 
 position as I, and that I am not in the same position as you," 
 said Anna. "For you the question is, Do you desire not to 
 have more children? for me, Do I desire them? This is the 
 principal difference. You must know that I cannot desire 
 them in my position." 
 
 Darya Aleksandrovna was silent. She suddenly became 
 aware that such an abyss separated her from Anna that be- 
 tween them certain questions existed on which they could 
 never agree, and which had best not be discussed.
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 613 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 "ONE more reason for legalizing your position, if pos- 
 sible." 
 
 "Yes, if possible," answered Anna, in an entirely different 
 tone, calm and sweet. 
 
 "Isn't a divorce entirely possible? They tell me your hus- 
 band has consented." 
 
 " Dolly, do not speak of that." 
 
 " Nu! as you please," she answered, struck by the sad 
 look on Anna's face. "Aren't you looking too much on 
 the dark side ? " 
 
 "I? Not at all; I am very happy and contented. You 
 saw, Je fais des passions [I even get up flirtations] with 
 Veslovsky" 
 
 " Da! to tell the truth, Veslovsky's manner displeases me 
 very much." 
 
 "Ach! there's nothing! It tickles Alekse"i. But he is 
 a mere boy and entirely in my hands. You understand, I do 
 as I please with him ; just as you do with Grisha. 
 Dolly ! [she suddenly changed the conversation] you say 
 that I look on the dark side. You can't understand. This 
 is too terrible ; I try not to look at all ! " 
 
 " You are wrong ; you ought to do what is necessary." 
 
 "What is necessary? You say I must marry Aleksi, 
 and that I don't think about that. / not think about that ! " 
 she exclaimed, and the color flew over her face. She got 
 up, straightened herself, and began walking slowly up and 
 down, stopping now and then. "Not think about that! 
 There is not a day or an hour when I do not think of it, 
 and blame myself for thinking of it ; because the thought 
 of it makes me mad," she repeated. " When I think of it, 
 I can only quiet myself with morphine. But very good ! 
 let us speak calmly. They tell me divorce, but in the first 
 place he would not consent ; HE is under the Countess Lidia's 
 influence." 
 
 Darya Aleksandrovna sat down by the table, and with a 
 sympathetic look she followed Anna as she walked up and 
 down. She shook her head, 
 
 " We must try," said she. 
 
 " Suppose I should try. What does it mean?" she asked, 
 evidently having thought it over a thousand times. "It
 
 614 ANNA KAR&X1XA. 
 
 means that I, who hate him, and who have confessed my 
 guilt to him I believe in his magnanimity that I humiliate 
 myself to write him Nu! suppose I make the effort; sup- 
 pose I do it. I shall receive either an insulting answer or 
 his consent. Good, I get his consent." Anna at this time 
 was in the furthest end of the room and stopped there to 
 arrange a window-curtain. "I get his consent; but my 
 s-son? He will not give him to me ! No, he will grow up 
 despising me, living with his father, whom I have left. Just 
 think, I love these two almost equally, both more than my- 
 self ; these two, Serozha and Aleksi." 
 
 She advanced to the middle of the room and leaned toward 
 Dolly, pressing her hands to her breast. In her white peig- 
 noir she seemed wonderfully tall and large. She shook her 
 head, and looking out of her moist, shining eyes upon the 
 little, homely, lean Dolly, sitting their in her darned night- 
 gown and nightcap, all a-tremble with emotion, 
 
 " These two only I love, and I cannot bring them together. 
 If this were not so, it would be all the same ; all, all the same. 
 It will end in some way ; but I can not, I will not talk about 
 this. You could never imagine what I suffer ! " 
 
 She sat down beside Dolly and took her hand. 
 
 " What do you think? What do you think of me? You 
 don't despise me. I do not deserve that ; I am miserably 
 unhappy. If there is any more unhappy than I " and turn- 
 ing away, she began to weep. 
 
 After Anna had left her, Dolly said her prayers and went 
 to bed. She pitied Anna with all her soul while she was 
 talking with her ; but now she could not bring herself to 
 think of her. Memories of home and children arose in her 
 imagination with new and wonderful joy. So dear and 
 precious seemed this little world to her that she decided that 
 nothing would tempt her to stay longer away from them, 
 and that she would leave the next day. 
 
 Anna meantime, returning to her dressing-room, took a 
 glass and poured into it several drops of a mixture contain- 
 ing chiefly morphine, and, when she had grown calm, she 
 went quietly to her bed-room. 
 
 Vronsky looked at her attentively, trying to find some 
 indication in her face of her talk with Dolly ; but he saw only 
 that engaging loveliness, to the charm of which he always 
 submitted. He wanted to ask her what they had been talk- 
 ing about, but he waited for her to speak.
 
 ANNA K ARE NIX A. 615 
 
 " I am glad you like Dolly," she said, simply. 
 
 " Da! I've kuown her for a long time. She's an excellent 
 woman, mats excessi 'cement terre d, terre [though exceedingly 
 commonplace]. But still I am well pleased at her visit." 
 
 He gave Anna another questioning look, and took her 
 hand ; but she smiled without seeming to understand. 
 
 The next morning, in spite of repeated urging from her 
 hosts, Darya Aleksandrovna prepared to go away. Levin's 
 coachman, in his old kuftan and waggoner's cap, put the un- 
 matched horses into the old carriage with its shabby harness, 
 and looking stern and resolute, drove up the sanded drive- 
 way to the jxnie cochere. 
 
 Darya Aleksandrovna took a cold farewell of the Princess 
 Varvara and the gentlemen. The day that they had passed 
 together made thorn all see clearly that they had no interests 
 in coannon, and that they were better apart. Anna only was 
 sad. She knew that no one would waken again in her the 
 feelings which Dolly had aroused in her soul, and which rep- 
 resented all the better side of her nature. Soon all vestige 
 of such feelings would be stifled by the life that she was 
 leading. 
 
 Dolly breathed freely when she found herself in the open 
 fields ; and just as she was feeling curious to learn how the 
 servants were impressed, Filipp, the coachman, suddenly 
 turned around and said, 
 
 " Rich enough they're rich, but they only feed out three 
 measures of oats. That'll do for the roosters. What are 
 three measures? Only a bite. Novv-a-days oats only cost 
 forty-five kopeks. That ain't our way." 
 
 " A stingy barin," added the bookkeeper. 
 
 " Nu! but the horses pleased you, didn't they?" asked 
 Dolly. 
 
 "The horses one word; and the food's good. But I 
 don't know how you felt about it, Darya Aleksandrovna ; 
 I was sick of it." And he turned his honest lace towards 
 her. 
 
 " Da! and so was I. Do you think we shall reach home 
 to-night? " 
 
 " We must get home." 
 
 Dolly found her children well ; and as she thought her 
 journey over, she thought better of it. She gave an animated 
 description of the luxury and good taste of the Vronskys'
 
 616 ANNA KARENINA. 
 
 establishment, and of their cordiality ; and she did not allow 
 herself to say a word against them. 
 
 " You must know Anna and Vronsky, and I know him 
 better than I did, to appreciate how kind and affectionate 
 they are," said she with perfect sincerity, forgetting the vague 
 feeling of discomfort that she had felt when she was there. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 VRONSKY and Anna passed the rest of the summer and part 
 of the autumn in the country, and took no steps towards get- 
 ting a divorce. It was agreed between them that they should 
 not make any visits ; but they both felt that the longer they 
 lived alone in the solitude of autumn, and without guests, 
 the more unendurable became their life and that they must 
 have some change. Nothing which constitutes happiness was 
 apparently wanting to them. They were rich, young, well ; 
 they had one child, and they had pleasant occupations. 
 Anna continued to take the greatest care of her person and 
 her dress. She read much, both in the way of novels and of 
 serious literature, and sent abroad for valuable books which 
 she saw reviewed in the magazines. No subject that could 
 interest Vronsky was indifferent to her. She astonished 
 him by her knowledge of agriculture and architecture, drawn 
 from books and technical journals, and he grew accustomed 
 to consulting her about everything, even on questions of sport 
 or the breeding of horses. 
 
 She took a very serious interest in the building of the hos- 
 pital and put in practice there some original ideas which she 
 knew how to carry out. The object of her life was to please 
 Vronsk}', and take the place of all that he -had given up for 
 her ; and he knew how to appreciate her devotion, and was 
 touched by it, but at the same time he felt oppressed by the 
 chains of tenderness which she forged around him. 
 
 As time went on he found himself embarrassed by these 
 chains which bound him, and he began more and more to feel 
 anxious to cast them off, lest they should deprive him of his 
 independence. If it had not been for his ever-increasing de- 
 sire for freedom, if it had not been for the scenes that he 
 met with every time that he had to go to the city, to the 
 races, Vronsky would have been perfectly contented with his 
 life. 
 
 The rdle of rich lauded proprietor which he was trying
 
 ANXA KAKtiNINA. 617 
 
 was decidedly to his taste, not only because he saw that it 
 was from such men that the true Russian aristocracy was 
 constituted, but because he found that he had a marked tal- 
 ent for managing his estates. His work, which absorbed him 
 more and more, was prospering admirably. Notwithstanding 
 his enormous expenses for the building of the hospital, ma- 
 chinery, and improved cattle, and many other things, he felt 
 sure that he was not wasting but increasing his property. He 
 entered into all details and was firm as rock in defending his 
 interests. Notwithstanding his German superintendent's 
 cunning and dexterity, he did not allow himself to be led by 
 him into absurd extravagances, though he was willing to 
 mt;ke all useful changes, particularly when they were of a 
 kind to make an impression on outsiders ; but he never went 
 beyond the limits which he had marked out for himself. 
 
 The Department of Kashin, where the estates of Vronsky, 
 Svia/hsky, Oblonsky, Koznuichef, and a small part of Lev- 
 in's were situated, was to hold its provincial elections 
 (dvorianskie vuiborui) in October. 
 
 These elections attracted general attention on account of 
 the many notable personages who took part in them. People 
 came from Moscow, Petersburg, and even from abroad. 
 
 Vronsky, too, had promised Sviazhsky to be present. 
 
 On the evening before this event Vronsky and Anna almost 
 nad a quarrel about his proposed trip. It was getting 
 autumnal in the country, a melancholy, gloomy time, and 
 therefore Vronsky, already ready for a contest, announced in 
 a cold, stern tone, that he intended to be away for a few.days. 
 But to his surprise Anna received the news with entire calm- 
 ness. She smiled as he looked at her. He knew her power 
 of retiring into herself, and he knew that it was manifested 
 when she was planning some rash step that she did not wish 
 him to know. He was afraid of this now, but he was desir- 
 ous of avoiding a scene that he almost forced himself in be- 
 lieving that her manner was sincere. 
 
 " I hope you will not be lonely." 
 
 " I hope so. I expect to receive a box of books from 
 Moscow ; no, I shall not be lonely." 
 
 " She is adopting a new tone, and so much the better," 
 thought he ; " but it's all the same thing." 
 
 And so, without asking farther explanation, he went off to 
 the elections. This was the first time since their relations 
 had begun that he had left her without a complete explana-
 
 618 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 tion. In one way this troubled him ; in another, he felt that 
 it was better. 
 
 " There is beginning to be something not altogether clear 
 and above board, but she will get used to it," he thought. 
 " At all events, I can let her have everything except uuy 
 independence as a man." 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 IN September Levin returned to Moscow, for his wife's 
 confinement, and had already passed a month there, doing 
 nothing, when Sergei Ivanovitch, who was taking an active 
 part, invited him to go to the government of Kashin to the 
 elections. Moreover, he had some business to attend to in 
 the government of Kashin, in relation to the guardianship of 
 the estate of his sister, who lived abroad. 
 
 Levin was still in a state of uncertainty ; but Kitty saw 
 that he was tired of the city, and urged him to go and put an 
 end to his indecision, by having a deputy nobleman's uniform 
 made for him at an expense of eight}' rubles. And these 
 eight3* rubles spent on his uniform formed the principal rea- 
 son that induced him to go. 
 
 He had been waiting six days, every day trying to bring 
 his sister's affairs into a satisfactory state ; but the business 
 relating to guardianship had not advanced a step, because it 
 depended on the marshal, whose re-election was impending. 
 The time passed in long conversations with excellent people, 
 who were very desirous to make themselves useful, but could 
 do nothing, as the marshal remained invisible. These fruit- 
 less comings and goings were like the futile efforts one makes 
 in a dream ; but marriage had taught Levin patience, and he 
 tried not to be exasperated. He also patiently tried to 
 understand the electoral manoeuvres, which were so exciting 
 to the honest and estimable men around him, and he did his 
 bsst to become learned in a matter which he had hitherto 
 treated very lightly. 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch took pains to explain to him the meaning 
 and importance of the new elections, in which he was partic- 
 ularly interested. 
 
 Snetkof , the present marshal (predvoditel) , was a man of 
 the old stamp, attached to the ways of the past, who had 
 squandered a considerable fortune in the most honest way in 
 the world, and whose antiquated ideas did not suit present
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 619 
 
 needs. As marshal, he handled large sums of money, and 
 had control over the gravest matters, such as guardianships, 
 and this especially concerned Levin, the direction of 
 public instruction, and last and not least, the zemstvo. 
 
 It was considered necessary to put in his place a new and 
 active man, imbued with the most enlightened modern ideas, 
 and to manage the business so as to extract from all the 
 rights given to the noblesse (dvorianstvo) , not as the noblesse, 
 but simply as a constituent part of the zemstvo, those advan- 
 tages of self-government which were possible. 
 
 The rich Department of Kashin could furnish an example 
 to the other governments for all Russia, if it knew how to 
 use the strength concentrated there, and the new elections 
 thus would be highly important. It was proposed to elect as 
 predvoditel, instead of Snetkof , either Sviazhsky, or, still bet- 
 ter, Nevyedovsky, a man of eminent understanding, formerly 
 a professor, who was an intimate friend of Sergei Ivanovitch." 
 
 The provincial assembly (sobrdnie) was opened by a speech 
 from the governor, who urged the nobilit}- to elect the offi- 
 cials, not from partisan reasons, but for merit and for the 
 public weal, and he hoped that the nobility of the Depart- 
 ment of Kashin would do their duty, and prove their devo- 
 tion to the monarch, as they had always done. Having 
 finished his speech, the governor left the hall, and deputy- 
 noblemen, tumultuously and eagerly, and even enthusiastically, 
 followed him, and surrounded him while he was putting on 
 his shuba, and talking in a friendly way with the government 
 predvoditel. Levin, anxious to see everybody and miss noth- 
 ing, was in the midst of the throng, and he heard the 
 governor say : " Please tell Mary a Ivanovna that my wife is 
 very sorry, but she had to go to the asylum." Then all the 
 nobles gayly took their shubas, and went in a bod}' to the 
 cathedral (sob6r). 
 
 In the cathedral Levin, together with the rest, raised his 
 head and repeated, after the protopop, the words by which 
 they swore to fulfil their duties. The church service always 
 impressed Levin, and when he heard this crowd of men, old 
 and young, solemnly repeating the formal words, "I kiss 
 the cross," he felt himself stirred. 
 
 On the second and third day the assembly was occupied 
 with the moneys meant for the educational establishments 
 for the nobility and for women. On the fourth day the 
 verification of the government moneys came up, and here,
 
 620 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 for the first time, the new party came into direct collision with 
 the old. The Commission, whose duty it was to verify these 
 accounts, announced to the assembly that the money was all 
 accounted for. The government predvoditel arose, and with 
 tears in his eyes thanked the nobility for their trust. The 
 nobles loudly congratulated him, and shook hands with him. 
 But at this time one noble (dcoridnin) belonging to Sergei 
 Ivanovitch's party declared that he had heard that the Com- 
 mission for the verification of the accounts had not performed 
 its work properly. One of the members of the Commission 
 unguardedly admitted this. Then a very small and very 
 young looking but very sarcastic gentleman began to say 
 that it would probably be agreeable for the governmentpred- 
 voditel to give an account of his expenditures, and that the 
 superfluous delicacy of that member of the Commission de- 
 prived him of this pleasant recreation. Then the members 
 of the Commission resigned, and Sergei Ivanovitch began 
 logically to prove that it was necessary either to accept the 
 verification or to refuse it. A chatterer from the opposite 
 party replied to Sergei Ivanovitch. Then Sviazhsky spoke, 
 and was followed by the sarcastic gentleman. The proceed- 
 ings were tedious, and no end was reached. Levin was sur- 
 prised that they discussed this so long, and all the more, 
 because when he asked .Sergei Ivanovitch whether Snetkof 
 were suspected of peculation, he replied: "Not at all; 
 he's a verj- worthy man. But we must put an end to this 
 patriarchal way of managing business." 
 
 On the fifth day occurred the election of the district mar- 
 shal. The session was a stormy one in many particulars. 
 In the district (uyezd) of Sel6znevskoe, Sviazhsky was unan- 
 imously elected, and he gave a grand dinner the same evening. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 THE principal election, that of marshal of the Department, 
 did not take place until the sixth day. The great hall and 
 the little hall were crowded with nobles in their uniforms. 
 Many came for this only. Acquaintances who had not met for 
 years were there, some from the Krimea, some from Peters- 
 burg, some from abroad. The debates were carried on under 
 the Emperor's portrait. It could be seen very quickly that 
 the deputy-noblemen, who were gathered in the two halls 
 and in the corriders, were divided into two groups, the old
 
 ANNA KARENINA. 621 
 
 school and the new. The old school wore for the most part 
 either old court uniforms buttoned up, with swords, and an- 
 cient hats, or else their marine, cavalry, or infantry uniforms 
 of very ancient date. The uniforms of the old nobles were 
 made in the ancient style, with epaulettes on the shoulders, and 
 with short waists and tight arm-holes, as if their possessors 
 had grown a good deal ; but the new deputies wore uniforms 
 with broad shoulders, long waists, and white waistcoats, and 
 among them were several court uniforms. 
 
 Levin had followed his brother into the small hall, where 
 men were smoking and lunching. He listened, and tried to 
 follow the conversation of those who were talking. Sergei 
 Ivanovitch was the centre, around whom a number of men 
 were grouped. Levin, as he heard what was said, could not 
 understand why two district marshals, opposed to Snetkof, 
 were willing to put him up as candidate. 
 
 Step:in Arkadyevitch, who had been taking a snack, came 
 and joined this group, wiping his mouth with a perfumed 
 and embroidered cambric handkerchief. He wore his cham- 
 berlain's uniform. 
 
 " We hold the situation," said he, twirling both his side- 
 whiskers, tl Sergei Ivanovitch;" and after he heard Sviazh- 
 sky's plan, he agreed with him. 
 
 " One district is enough, but let Sviazhsky pretend to be 
 in opposition ; " and all except Levin understood the mean- 
 ing of his words. 
 
 " Well, how is Kostia? " he said, turning to Levin. ' l So 
 you came, it seems, in style." 
 
 In order to enlighten himself, he took the arm of Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch, going a few steps from the rest, and expressed 
 to him his astonishment at seeing the hostile districts asking 
 the old marshal to stand as candidate. 
 
 "0 sancta simplicitus!" implied Oblonsky ; "don't you see 
 that, since our measures are taken, Snetkof must stand ; for, 
 if he should not, the old party would choose a candidate, 
 and overthrow our plans. If Sviazhsky's district makes no 
 opposition, then Snetkof will be put up, and we shall take 
 advantage of it to propose our candidate." 
 
 Levin understood, but not entirely ; and he was about to 
 ask some more questions, when suddenly a great tumult and 
 shouting was heard in the large hall. Levin heard the words 
 'Law authority judgment who for what," spoken 
 on every side ; and with the rest he hurried into the large
 
 622 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 hall, anxious not to lose anything that was going on, and 
 surveyed the throng of nobles. He worked his way up to 
 the speaker's desk, where the government predvoditel, Sviazh- 
 sky, and other party leaders were angrily discussing. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 LEVIN stood at quite a distance. It was hard for him to 
 hear, as on one side was one noble, breathing sterterously, 
 and on the other, another, with creaking boots. He could 
 only distinguish the old marshal's gentle voice, then the 
 sharp voice of the sarcastic gentleman, and then the voice of 
 Sviazhsky. He could only distinguish that they were disput- 
 ing about the meaning of _a clause of the law, and the words 
 " nakhodivshagosa pod slyedstviem." 
 
 The crowd parted to let Sergei Ivanovitch get to the table. 
 Sergei Ivanovitch, after waiting till the sarcastic gentleman 
 was done speaking, said that it seemed to him that it would 
 be a better way to consult the law itself, and he asked the 
 secretary to read the text of the law. The law said that " a 
 ballot must be taken in case of divergence of opinion." 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch began to explain this ; but a tall, fat 
 pomyeshchik (proprietor), with a dyed moustache, and dressed 
 in a tight uniform, with a high collar propping up his chin, 
 interrupted him, and approached the table, crying, 
 
 "The ballot! the ballot! down with discussions ! the bal- 
 lot ! " 
 
 Immediately many voices arose ; and the tall man with the 
 ring, getting more and more angry, screamed louder and 
 louder. It was impossible to distinguish what he said. He 
 said exactly what Sergei Ivanovitch proposed, but evidently 
 he was opposed to him and all his party. The clamor grew 
 tumultuous. The marshal was obliged to beg for silence. 
 Shouts went up from all sides : "The ballot ! the ballot ! That 
 man knows what he is talking about ! There'll be blood- 
 shed ! Give us the ballot ! " and faces as well as voices be- 
 came angry and threatening. Levin understood, with his 
 brother's aid, that the trouble was about validating the elec- 
 toral rights of one of the deputies, accused of being under 
 sentence. His brother put it for him in the form of a syllo- 
 gism : it was necessary for the public good that the govern- 
 ment predvoditel be defeated ; to defeat the predvoditel, a 
 majority of votes was needed ; in order to get a majority of
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 623 
 
 votes it was necessary to give Flerof his vote ; and to decide 
 upon the legality of Flerof s voice it was necessary to proceed 
 as the law laid down. 
 
 " One voice may decide the whole matter, and it is neces- 
 sary to be logical and serious, if you want to serve in a public 
 capacity," said Sergei Ivanovitch, in conclusion. 
 
 But Levin forgot this, and it pained him to see this un- 
 pleasant irritation taking possession of men whom he es- 
 teemed ; and, instead of waiting till the end of the election, 
 he went into the smaller hall, where there was no one but the 
 servants who served at the buffet. Seeing the busy servants, 
 and their contented, lively faces, Levin felt a strange feeling 
 of relief; he had come into a purer atmosphere. He began to 
 walk back and forth, watching the servants. It pleased him 
 greatly when one of the servants, an old man with gray side- 
 whiskers, expressed his unbounded scorn for the younger 
 ones, who stood in awe of him, and began to teach them the 
 best way of folding napkins. Levin was just about to engage 
 the old servant in conversation, when the Secretary of the 
 Assembly, a little old man who made a specialty of knowing 
 all the nobles of the province by their full names, came to 
 call him. 
 
 "Excuse me, Konstantin Dmitrich," said he; "your 
 brdtets [little brother] is asking for you. Your vote is 
 wanted." 
 
 Levin went into the hall, took a little white ball, and, fol- 
 lowing close behind Sergei Ivanovitch, he went to the table 
 where Sviazhsky was standing, with an important and iron- 
 ical air, running his beard through his hand and occasion- 
 ally smelling it. Sergei Ivanovitch put his ball into the 
 ballot-box, and made room for Levin ; but Levin did not 
 know what the voting was for, was disconcerted, and asked 
 his brother : 
 
 "Where shall I put it?" 
 
 He spoke in a low tone, and as there was talking near him, 
 he hoped that his question would not be overheard ; but the 
 speakers stopped, and his unfortunate question was heard. 
 Sergei Ivanovitch frowned, and replied sternly, 
 
 ' This is a matter entirely of conviction." 
 
 A number of the bystanders smiled. Much embarrassed, 
 Levin quickly cast his vote, and as he happened to hold it in 
 his right hand, he threw it into the right-hand receptacle. 
 When it was too late, he discovered that he had voted wrong,
 
 624 ANNA KAR&NIXA. 
 
 and still more confused, he retired to the back of the hall. 
 Tiie election was very close, but the new party won the da)*. 
 The old party, however, did not acknowledge its defeat. Levin 
 heard something about voting for Suetkof , and then he saw 
 a throng of nobles surrounding the predvoditel, who was say- 
 ing something. Approaching, Levin heard him making a 
 farewell speech to his constituents, whom he had served for 
 twenty years. It was an effecting farewell, and suddenly he 
 stopped, choked by tears, and hurried from the hall. These 
 tears arose either from the injustice that had been done him, 
 or from his love for the nobles, or possibly from the unpleas- 
 ant position in which he was placed, finding himself sur- 
 rounded by enemies ; but his grief was contagious ; the 
 nobles were touched, and Levin felt sorry for him. 
 
 At the door the government predvoditel met Levin. 
 
 "Excuse me, I beg your pardon," he said, as to a 
 stranger ; then recognizing him, he smiled a melancholy 
 smile. The expression of his face and the whole man in his 
 uniform, with his crosses and white pantaloons, as he hastened 
 out, reminded Levin of some hunted animal. This expres- 
 sion went to Levin's heart, for only the day before he had 
 been to see him about the guardianship affair, and he recalled 
 the dignified bearing of the old man. It was a great, lordly 
 house, with ancestral furniture, old servants, who had evidently 
 been formerly serfs, and the khozyd'ika, a tall, benevolent 
 lady in her lace cap and Turkish shawl, who was caressing her 
 lovely grand-daughter. The youngest son, a boy in the 
 sixth class of the gymnasium, had come in to wish his father 
 good-morning and to kiss his hand affectionately. All this 
 came back to Levin, and he pitied him, and tried to say 
 something to comfort him. 
 
 " Perhaps you will be our predvoditel again." 
 
 " I doubt it," said Snetkof with his scared look. " I am 
 tired, getting old. There are younger and better men than 
 I. Must let them take my place." And he disappeared by a 
 side door. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 THE long, narrow hall where the buffet was, began to fill 
 with people, and the excitement increased, for the decisive 
 moment was approaching. 
 
 The party-chiefs, who knew how to get a hold on the ma- 
 jority of the voters, were the most active ; the others sought
 
 ANNA KA RyixA. 625 
 
 diversion, and prepared for the contest by eating, smoking, 
 and pacing the hall in conversation with their acquaintances. 
 
 Levin did not smoke, and was not hungry ; and he pre- 
 ferred to avoid his friends, that is, Sergei Ivauovitch, Stepau 
 Arkadyevitch, Sviazhsky, and others, because he had just 
 caught sight of Vronsky in the uniform of Emperor's equerry. 
 So he took refuge near a window, and sat down, watching 
 the various groups, and listening to what was said around 
 him. He was mortified because all, as he saw, were alive and 
 taking action ; but he alone, with the exception of a very 
 old, toothless gentleman in a naval uniform, who sat near 
 him, was wanting in intei'est and occupation. 
 
 In the midst of the crowd he distinguished, in the old-style 
 uniform of major-general, the country gentleman with a gray 
 moustache whom he had met before at Sviazhsky's. Their 
 eyes met, and the}' greeted one another cordially. 
 
 " This is very agreeable," said the old gentleman. " Yes 
 indeed ! I remember very well having met you last year at 
 the house of Nikolai' I van itch." 
 
 " Nu! How goes your estate [khozyd'istvo] f" 
 
 " Da! all going to destruction," replied the old gentleman 
 quietly, and with a satisfied air, as if this were the result he 
 had always expected. " And you, how does it happen that 
 you are taking part in our coup d'&tat? All Russia seems 
 to have assembled here. We have even chamberlains, and 
 perhaps ministers," said he, pointing to Oblonsky, whose tall 
 and imposing figure made quite a sensation. 
 
 " Upon my word," replied Levin, '' I don't understand why 
 these noblemen's elections are considered so important." 
 
 The old gentleman looked at him in amazement. 
 
 " Da! What is there to understand? what importance can 
 they have ? It's a decaying institution which prolongs itself 
 by the force of inertia. Look at all these uniforms j you see 
 justices of the peace, clerks, but no noblemen." 
 
 " Why, then, do you attend the assemblies?" 
 
 " From habit, to keep up relations ; from a sort of moral 
 obligation. Besides, I came on a question of personal 
 interest. My son-in-law needs a push ; I must try to help 
 him to get a place. But why do such people as that come?" 
 and he pointed out the orator whose sharp voice had struck 
 Levin during the debates preceding the vote. 
 
 " It is a new generation of dvorianstvo " [noblesse]. 
 
 " Certainly new, but not dvorianstvo. They are land-
 
 626 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 holders, but we are the pomyeshchiks. But they are trying 
 to get the power as though they were nobles." 
 
 " Then you think it un institution which is falling into 
 decay?" 
 
 " There are ancient institutions which deserve to be 
 respected and treated gently. We may not be worth much, 
 but, nevertheless, we have lasted a thousand years. Suppose 
 you lay out a new garden, are you going to cut down the 
 century-old tree which has grown up on your land? No; 
 you will lay out your walks and your flower-beds in such a 
 way as to preserve intact the old oak. That institution will 
 not b"e suppressed in one year. Nu! but how goes your 
 Jchoyd'istvo'/" 
 
 " Da! not very brilliant; only five per cent." 
 
 " But you don't reckon your own trouble ; isn't that 
 worth something?" 
 
 " I'll tell you this much : I work a great deal harder than I 
 did when there was surface, and yet I get only five per cent., 
 and thank God for that. But my labor is all gratuitous." 
 
 " Why do we go on, then, if it is all loss? " 
 
 "Yes, why? From habit, I suppose," replied the pom- 
 yshchiki leaning his elbow on the window-sill. '" I will tell 
 you something more : my only son is going to be a scholar, 
 and not a farmer. I go on in spite of it all ! Here I have 
 just planted an orchard this year." 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Levin ; " this is very true. For my part, I 
 haven't deluded myself as to any profits of my labor, for 
 some time past. But one feels a sort of obligation to tke 
 earth." 
 
 il Davot! I will tell you still another thing. A neigh- 
 bor," said the old gentleman, " a merchant, came to see me. 
 We went over the farm, and then the garden. ^ Nu! Stepan 
 VasilyeVitch, your place is in order,' said he, ' but your 
 garden has too much shade.' But he found it in order, mind 
 you. 'My advice would be, cut down that linden. They 
 only exhaust the ground. Here's a thousand lindens. Each 
 one will make two excellent basts, and basts sell well. If I 
 were you, I would cut some of 'em down.'" 
 
 "He certainly would," said Levin, smiling, for he knew 
 what these common-sense people were. " And with the 
 money he would buy cattle, or perhaps a bit of ground, which 
 he would lease to the peasants. And so he makes a fortune. 
 But you and I thank God if we keep our land, and are able 
 to leave it to our children."
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 627 
 
 " You are married, I think? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Levin, with proud satisfaction. "Da ! it is 
 wonderful ! We live without making any profit, obliged, like 
 ancient vestals, to watch some hoi}' tire." 
 
 The old gentleman smiled under his white moustache. 
 
 " Some people, like our friend Sviazhsky and Couut 
 Vronsky, pretend to make something by agriculture ; but so 
 far they have only succeeded in eating into their capital." 
 
 " Why shouldn't we do like the merchants, cut down our 
 gardens for linden bast?" asked Levin, struck by the idea. 
 
 "Da vot! because we guard the sacred fire, as you say. 
 It is not the business of the dvorianstvo. And our work 
 lies not here in these elections, but at home in our corner. 
 It is a caste instinct that tells us what is necessary or not 
 necessary. The muzhiks have theirs ; a good muzhik will 
 persist in hiring as much land as he can. No matter how 
 bad it is, he will work it just the same, even without profit." 
 
 4 ' We are all alike," said Levin. "Very, very glad to 
 have met you ! " he added, seeing Sviazhsky approaching. 
 
 " Here we have met for the first time since we were to- 
 gether at your house," said the pomyeshchik to Sviazhsky. 
 " Da! and we have been having a talk." 
 
 " And doubtless have been slandering the new order of 
 things?" said Sviazhsky, smiling. 
 
 " One must relieve one's mind." 
 
 XXX. 
 
 SVIAZHSKY took Levin's arm, and together they approached 
 a group of their friends. 
 
 It was now impossible to avoid Vronsky. He was stand- 
 ing between Stepan Arkadyevitch and Sergei Ivauovitch, and 
 was looking straight at Levin as he came along. 
 
 " Delighted ! " said he, offering his hand to Levin. " We 
 met at the Princess Shcherbatskai'a's, didn't we ? " 
 
 "Yes, I remember our meeting perfectly," .^answered 
 Levin, growing purple ; and he immediately turned to speak 
 to his brother. Vronsky, smiling slightly, began to talk with 
 Sviazhsky, apparently having no desire to continue his talk 
 with Levin. But Levin, while he was speaking with his 
 brother, looked at Vronsky. trying to think of something to 
 say to him to make up for his rudeness.
 
 628 ANNA KAR&N7NA. 
 
 " How are you getting on? " he asked, turning to Sviazh- 
 sky and Vronsky. 
 
 " Snetkof seems to be hesitating," replied Sviazhsky. 
 
 " What will he do, consent or not?" 
 
 "That is where the trouble lies neither one thing or 
 another," said Vronsky. 
 
 " But* whom will they ballot for, if he gives up?" asked 
 Levin, looking at Vronsky. 
 
 "Whoever they please," answered Sviazhsky. 
 
 " You, perhaps." 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Sviazhsky, scowling and throw- 
 ing a disturbed look at the sarcastic gentleman who was 
 standing near Koznuishef. 
 
 " Who, then ? Nevyedovsky ?" continued Levin, feeling that 
 he was treading on dangerous ground. But his second guess 
 was worse than the first ; Nevyedovsky and Sviazhsky were 
 the two candidates. 
 
 "By no means," replied the sarcastic gentleman. It was 
 Nevyedovsky himself. Sviazhsky hastened to introduce him 
 to Levin. 
 
 A silence followed, during which Vronsky, since it was 
 necessary to look at something, looked at Levin, at his legs, 
 at his uniform, and then at his face ; and seeing the gloomy 
 look in his 63*68, said, for the sake of saying something, 
 
 " How is it that you who live in the country are not a justice 
 of the peace? Your uniform is not that of a justice, I see." 
 
 " Because I think that justices of the peace are an absurd 
 institution," answered Levin gloomily, but all the time hop- 
 ing for an opportunity to atone for his former rudeness. 
 
 "I do not think so; on the contrary," said Vronsky, 
 surprised. 
 
 " Child's play," said Levin, interrupting ; " justices of the 
 peace are no good ! In eight years I never once have known 
 one to make a proper decision. There's a justice of the peace 
 not far from me. I had a debt amounting to two rubles ; 
 when I got through with him, it had cost fifteen ; " and went 
 on to tell how a muzhik stole some flour from a miller, and 
 when the^niller charged him with it, the muzhik made a cal- 
 umnious complaint. All this was not to the point, and 
 awkwardly put, and Levin himself, while speaking, felt it. 
 
 "Oh, this is such an original! " said Stepan Arkadyevitch, 
 with his amygdaline smile. "Come on; it seems they are 
 balloting."
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 629 
 
 " I don't understand," said Sergei Ivanovitch, noticing 
 his brother's awkward sally, " I don't understand how it is 
 possible to be so absolutely devoid of political tact. It is 
 just what we Russians lack. The government predvoditel 
 our opponent you are ami cochon [on intimate terms] with 
 him. But Count Vronsky not that I make a friend of 
 him I have just refused his invitation to dinner; but he 
 is ours, and why on earth make him an enemy? Then you 
 asked Nevyedovsky if he was going to be a candidate. It 
 isn't the way to do." 
 
 "Ach! I don't understand anything about it; it is all 
 humbuggery ! " said Levin angrily. 
 
 " Here you say that this is all humbuggery ; but when you 
 touch it, see what a botch you make of it." 
 
 Levin was silent, and they entered the large hall. 
 
 The old predvoditel had decided to be a candidate although 
 he felt in the atmosphere that there was some trick in prepa- 
 ration, and though he knew that at least one district would 
 be opposed to him. At the first ballot the rotmistr gvurdi, 
 Mikhail Stepanovitch Snetkof, had a decided majority, and 
 when he came in, the nobles pressed around him, congratu- 
 lating him. 
 
 " jjftt/ is it over?" asked Levin of Sergei Ivanovitch. 
 
 " On the contrary, it is just begun," replied Sviazhsky, 
 taking the words out of his brother's mouth, and smiling. 
 " The opposition candidate may have more votes." 
 
 Levin had forgotten all about this, and only now realized 
 that this was only finessing, and it plunged him into a sort 
 of melancholy. Thinking himself useless and unnoticed, he 
 slipped out into the smaller hall, where, as before, he found 
 consolation in watching the servants. The old servant asked 
 if he would have something, and Levin consented. After he 
 had eaten a cutlet with beans, and had talked with the 
 servants about their former masters, Levin, not caring to 
 go back to the crowd which was so unpleasant to him, 
 walked about the galleries. They were full of well-dressed 
 ladies, who were leaning over the balustrades endeavoring 
 not to lose a word that was said in the hall below, and 
 around them was standing and sitting a throng of lawyers, 
 professors of the gymnasiums, inspectors, and officers. As 
 Levin stood near one group, he heard a lady saying to a 
 lawyer, " How glad I am that I heard Koznuishef," and 
 she went on to praise his eloquence. Levin looked and
 
 630 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 listened and tried to understand what it all meant, and 
 when he found it was impossible, he felt dull ; anil as he saw 
 the excitement and anger on all faces, he felt still more sad. 
 He made tip his mind to leave, and went down-stairs. As 
 he went down, trying to find the number of his shuba, the 
 secretary again discovered him. 
 
 " Excuse me, Konstantin Dmitriy^vitch, they are bal- 
 loting." And the candidate who was now receiving votes 
 was this very Nevyedovsky whose refusal had seemed to 
 him so explicit. 
 
 Levin started to go into the hall. The door was locked, 
 and as the secretary opened it for him, he ran plump into 
 two very red-faced pomyeshchiks. 
 
 " I cannot endure it," said one of the red-faced pom- 
 yeshchiks. 
 
 Immediately behind the pomyeshchik was the old govern- 
 ment predcoditel. His face was terrible in its expression of 
 fright and weakness. 
 
 " I told you not to let any one go out! " he shouted to 
 the guard. 
 
 "I let some one in, your Excellency" [vashe prevos- 
 khoditelstco]. 
 
 " Gospodi!" [Oh, Lord], and sighing painfully, the old 
 predvoditel, slinking along in his white pantaloons, with 
 bowed head, went through the hall to the great table. 
 
 The vote was counted, and Nevyedovsky, as had been 
 planned, was government predvoditel. Many were happy ; 
 many were satisfied, gay ; many were enthusiastic ; many 
 were dissatisfied and unhappy. The old predvoditel was in 
 despair and could not disguise it. When Nevyedovsky went 
 out of the hall, the throng surrounded him and expressed 
 their enthusiasm towards him as they had done towards the 
 governor when he opened the election, and as they had done 
 towards Snetkof when he was elected. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 ON this day, the newly elected government predvoditel, and 
 many of the new party which triumphed with him, dined with 
 Vronsky. 
 
 The count came to the elections because it was tiresome 
 in the country, and it was necessary for him to assert his in- 
 dependence before Anna, and also because he wished to
 
 ANNA KARENINA. 631 
 
 render a service to Sviazhsky^ in return for similar favors 
 shown him, and last and principally, because he intended 
 strictly to fulfil the duties which he imposed upon himself as 
 large proprietor. But he had never anticipated the intense 
 interest which he would take in the elections nor the success 
 with which he would play his part. He was one of the 
 youngest men among the nobles, but he succeeded from the 
 first in winning general good-fellowship, and he was not mis- 
 taken in supposing that he already inspired confidence. This 
 sudden influence was due to his wealth and distinction, to the 
 fine house which he occupied in town, a house which an old 
 friend of his, Shirkof, the director of the Kashin bank, had 
 given up to him, and partly to an excellent cook whom he 
 brought with him. and to his friendship with the governor ; 
 but above all to his simple and friendly manners, which won 
 hearts for him in spite of the reputation he had acquired of 
 being proud. He himself felt that with the exception of this 
 silly gentleman who had married Kitty Shcherbatskaia, and 
 who h propos de bottes [without reason] had been disposed 
 foolishly to quarrel with him and say all manner of foolish 
 tilings to everybody whom he met, was disposed to pay him 
 homage, and to attribute to him Ncvyedovsky's success. He 
 felt a certain pride in saying to himself that in three years, 
 if he were married, nothing should prevent him from present- 
 ing himself at the elections ; and he involuntarily remembered 
 the day, when, after having won a prize by means of his 
 jockey, he decided to run a race himself. 
 
 Now he was celebrating the triumph of his jockey. Yron- 
 sky sat at the head of the table, but he placed the young 
 governor at his right. Vronsky saw that all looked upon him 
 as the klwzyd'in of the government who had triumphantly 
 opened the elections, who had gained by his speech great con- 
 sideration and even worship ; but for Vronsky, he was noth- 
 ing more than Maslof Katka, a comrade of the corps of 
 pages, who now was confused in his presence, and whom 
 he tried mettre d, son aise (to put at his ease.) At his left he 
 placed Xevvedovsky, a young man with a disdainful and 
 impenetrable face, for whom he showed much regard. 
 Sviazhsky accepted his own failure gayly ; indeed, as 
 he said, lifting his glass to Nevyedovsky, he could not call it 
 a failure, since he had the delight of seeing his party triumph. 
 
 During dinner he repeated in a most comical way the old 
 predvoditeT s affecting speech, and advised the new incumbent
 
 632 ANNA KAREN IX A. 
 
 to find some other way of verifying the accounts. Other 
 episodes of the election were related, and a humorous noble 
 told how lackeys in short clothes were excluded from the balls 
 given b}' the late predvoditel and advised the new predvoditel 
 to give a ball with lackeys in short clothes. Stepau Arkadye- 
 vitch was also gay, because the day had passed so well and 
 because everybody was satisfied, and after dinner, when 
 despatches were being sent off in all directions, announcing 
 tlie result of the elections, he sent one to Darya Aleksan- 
 drovna, "to please them all," as he confided to his neigh- 
 bors. But when Dolly received the telegram she sighed and 
 lamented the ruble it had cost ; and she understood that her 
 husband had dined well, for it was one of Stiva's weak- 
 nesses to faire jouer le teleyraphe (make the telegraph play) 
 after a heart}' dinner. 
 
 They gave toasts with excellent wine which had nothing 
 Russian about it ; they greeted the new marshal with the title 
 of " excellency" (vashe prevoskhoditelstvo) , a title with which. 
 in spite of his indifferent air, he was as pleased as a newly 
 married woman is to hear herself called " Madame." The 
 health of "our amiable host" was also drunk, as well as the 
 governor's and the director of the bank. Vronsky was con- 
 tented. He never expected to find in the provinces distin- 
 guished society. 
 
 Towards the end of dinner the gayety redoubled, and the 
 governor asked Vronsky to attend a concert, organized by 
 his wife for the benefit of the brotherhood. This was before 
 the war with Serbia. 
 
 "There will be a ball afterwards, and you shall see our 
 beauty. In fact, she is remarkable." 
 
 " Not in my line" answered Vronsky in English, smiling ; 
 but he promised to go. 
 
 Just as they were lighting their cigars, on leaving the table, 
 Vronsky's valet approached him, bringing a note on a tray. 
 
 " From Vozdvizhenskoe, by a special messenger," said the 
 man, with a significaivt expression. 
 
 The note was from Anna, and Vronsky knew, before he 
 broke the seal, what was in it. He had promised, as the 
 elections were to last five days, to return on Wednesday, but 
 it was now Saturday, and he knew that the letter would be 
 full of reproaches because he had not fulfilled his promise. 
 The one he sent off the day before to explain his delay had 
 evidently not been received. The tenor of the note was what
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 633 
 
 he expected ; but its form was a great surprise, and extremely 
 unpleasant to him. Ani was very sick, and the doctor 
 feared inflammation. 
 
 " I shall go wild, here all alone. The Princess Varvara 
 is only a hindrance instead of a help. I expected you day 
 before yesterday evening, and send a messenger to know 
 what has become of you. I wanted to come myself, but hes- 
 itated, knowing that it would be disagreeable to you. Send 
 some answer, that I may know what to do." 
 
 The child was ill, and she had wished to come herself. A 
 sick daughter, and this hostile tone ! 
 
 The contrast between this exacting love and the jolly com- 
 pany struck Vronsky with great force ; but he felt obliged 
 to go, and he left by the first train that night. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 BKFORE Vronsky 's departure for the elections Anna had 
 made up her mind to endure the separation very stoically ; 
 but the cold, imperious look with which he informed her that 
 he was going away wounded her, and her good resolutions 
 were shaken by it. It was in this humiliating wa}" that she 
 interpreted the look in her solitude. 
 
 " He has the right to go when and where he pleases. Not 
 only to go, but to abandon me. He has all the rights, but I 
 have none ! But as he knows this, he ought not to have done 
 this ; yet what has he done? He looked at me with a hard, 
 stern look. Of course, that is vague, impalpable. Still, he 
 did not formerly look at me so, and it teaches me much," she 
 thought ; " that' look proves that he is growing cold towards 
 me." 
 
 She tried to keep herself from thinking what she should do 
 if he abandoned her. She filled the days with occupations ; 
 at night she took morphine. To be sure, there was one 
 remedy left. not to keep him with her for this she wished 
 nothing else but his love but to bind him to her, to be in 
 such a relation to him that he would not abandon her. This 
 remedy was divorce and marriage ; and she began to desire 
 it, ami resolved that when he or Stiva spoke about it again, 
 she would no longer resist him on this point, as she had al- 
 WMVS done before. 
 
 With such thoughts she spent the five days of his absence. 
 To kill time, she walked and talked with the Princess Var-
 
 634 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 vara, visited the hospital, and, more than all, she read, read 
 one book after another. But on the sixth day, when the 
 coachman returned without bringing Vrousky, she felt that 
 she had not strength enough left to think about him and 
 what he had done to her. At the same time her little girl 
 fell sick. Anna went to her, but it did not divert her mind, 
 the more as the little one was not sick enough to cause any 
 anxiety. Do the best she could, she did not love this child, 
 and she could not pretend feelings which she did not have. 
 
 On the evening of the sixth day, while she was entirely 
 alone, terror lest Vronsky had deserted her became so keen, 
 that she almost made up her mind to start for the city 
 herself, but after a long deliberation, she wrote the note and 
 sent it by a special messenger. When the next morning 
 brought her word from Vronsky explaining his delay, she 
 regretted her rash move. With horror she anticipated the 
 repetition of that severe look which he would give her on his 
 return especially when he learned that his daughter had 
 not been dangerously sick. Anna now acknowledged to 
 herself that he would miss his liberty, perhaps, and find his 
 chain heavy. But yet she was glad that he was coming ; he 
 would be there with her so that she should see him, so that 
 she should know his every motion. 
 
 She was sitting in the parlor, by the lamp, reading a new 
 book of Taine's, listening to the sound of wind outside, and 
 watching every moment for the count's arrival. Several 
 times she thought that she heard the rumble of wheels, but she 
 was deceived. At last she distinctly heard not only the 
 wheels, but the coachman's voice, and the carriage rolling 
 under the porte coclidre. The Princess Varvara, who was 
 playing a game of patience, heard it too. Anna rose ; but 
 instead of going down, as she had twice done already, she 
 stopped. She was ashamed at her deceitfulness, and still 
 more confused by the doubt as to how he would receive her. 
 All her irritation had vanished. She could think of nothing 
 but Vronsky's displeasure. She remembered that her 
 daughter for two days now had been perfectly well. She 
 was annoyed that the child should recover just as she sent 
 off the letter. 
 
 And then she thought that he was there, himself ; that 
 she should see his eyes, his hands. She heard his voice, and 
 forgetting everything, joy filled her heart, and she ran to 
 meet him.
 
 ANNA KAEENINA. 635 
 
 "How is Ani?" he asked anxiously, from the bottom of 
 the stuirs, as she ran swiftly down. He was seated, and a 
 lackey was pulling off his furred boots. 
 
 " Much better." 
 
 "And you?" he asked, shaking himself. 
 
 She seized his two hands, and drew him towards her, 
 looking into his eyes. 
 
 tl Nu! I am very glad," he said, coldly surveying her, her 
 head-dress, her whole toilet, which, as he knew, had been 
 put on expressly for him. 
 
 These attentions pleased him, but he was too much 
 accustomed to them ; and that stony, severe expression, 
 which Anna so much dreaded, remained on his face. 
 
 11 Nu! I am very glad; and how are you?" he asked, 
 kissing her hand, after he had wiped his beard, which the 
 cold had moistened. 
 
 " It is all the same to me," thought Anna, " if only he is 
 here ; and when he is here he cannot help loving me ; he does 
 not dare not to love me." 
 
 The evening passed merrily in the presence of the Princess 
 Varvara, who complained to him that when he was away 
 Anna took morphine. 
 
 " What can I do? I cannot sleep, my thoughts are dis- 
 tracting ; when he is here, I never take it, almost never." 
 
 Vronsky told about the elections, and Anna, by her ques- 
 tions, cleverly led him to talk about what especially pleased 
 him, his own success. Then she told him all the interesting 
 things that had happened since he went away, and took care 
 to speak of nothing unpleasant. 
 
 When the evening had passed, and they were alone, Anna, 
 seeing that she had him at her feet again, wished to efface 
 the unpleasant effect of her letter ; she said, 
 
 " Confess that you were displeased about my letter, and 
 did not believe me." 
 
 As soon as she spoke she saw that though he was affection- 
 ately disposed towards her, he did not forgive this. 
 
 ' Yes," answered he, " your letter was strange. Ani was 
 sick, and yet you wanted to come yourself." 
 
 ' Both were true." 
 
 " Da! and I do not doubt it." 
 
 " Yes, you do doubt. I see that you are angry." 
 
 ' Not for one minute ; but what vexes me is that you will 
 not admit that there are duties "
 
 636 ANNA KARtfNINA. 
 
 " What duties ? Going to concerts ? " 
 
 " We won't talk about it." 
 
 "Why not talk of it?" 
 
 " I only mean that imperious duties may meet us. Now, 
 for instance, I shall have to go to Moscow on business 
 Ach! Anna, why are you so irritable? Don't you know that 
 I cannot live without you?" 
 
 "If this is the way," said Anna, changing her tone sud- 
 denly, " you are tired of this kind of life. Da! you come 
 home one day and go away the next " 
 
 "Anna, this is cruel; I am ready to give up my whole 
 life " 
 
 She continued without listening to him, 
 
 " If 3'ou are going to Moscow, I shall go with you ; I shall 
 not stay here alone. We must either live together or 
 separate." 
 
 " But you know I ask nothing more than to live with you, 
 but for that it is necessary " 
 
 " The divorce? I will write. I see that I cannot continue 
 to live in this way. But I am going with you to Moscow." 
 
 " You really threaten me ; but all I ask in the world is not 
 to be separated from you," said Vronsky, smiling. As the 
 count spoke these affectionate words, the look in his eyes was 
 not only icy but wrathful, like that of a man persecuted and 
 exasperated. She saw his look and accurately read its 
 meaning. 
 
 " If this is so, then it is misfortune ! " said this look. The 
 expression was only momentary, but she never forgot it. 
 
 Anna wrote to her husband to demand the divorce, and 
 towards the end of November, after separating from the 
 Princess Varvara, who had to go to Petersburg, she went to 
 Moscow with Vronsky. Expecting every day to get Aleks6i 
 Aleksandrovitch's reply and immediately afterwards to secure 
 the divorce, they set up their establishment as though they 
 were married.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 637 
 
 PART VII. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE Levins had been in Moscow for two months, and the 
 time fixed by competent authorities for Kitty's deliverance 
 was already passed. Kitty's mother and Dolly, and more than 
 all, Levin himself, could not think without terror of the ap- 
 proaching event, and began to be troubled and anxious ; but 
 Kitty alone kept wonderfully calm and happy. She recog- 
 nized in her heart the birth of a new feeling of love for the 
 child which she expected, and she entertained this feeling with 
 joy. The child already existed for her ; he even manifested 
 his independence at times by causing her suffering ; but this 
 strange, unknown pain brought only a smile to Kitty's lips. 
 
 All whom she loved were with her, and all were so good to 
 her, took such care of her, and tried so to make every thing 
 pleasant for her, that, if she had not known and felt that the 
 end must soon come, this would have been the happiest and 
 best part of her life. Only one thing clouded her perfect 
 happiness, and this was that her husband was not the same 
 as he had been when she loved him in the country. 
 
 In the country she had loved his calm, gentle, and hos- 
 pitable waj-s. In the city she found him unreasonably 
 suspicious, uneasy, restless. Then, in the country he was 
 usefully occupied, and seemed to know that he was in his 
 place. Here in the city he was constantly on the go, as if he 
 were afraid of forgetting something ; but he had nothing 
 really to do. And she felt a pity for him. But she knew 
 that to his friends he was not an object of commiseration : 
 and when in society she looked at him as one studies those 
 who are beloved, endeavoring to look upon him as a stranger, 
 and see what effect he produced on others ; she saw with 
 anxiety that it was rather his jealousy which stood in danger 
 of being observed, and that he was not only not to be pitied,
 
 638 ANNA KAE$NINA. 
 
 but was to be envied for his dignified, rather old-fashioned 
 shy politeness to ladies, his strong physique, and his very 
 expressive face. But she read his inner nature. She saw 
 that he was not himself. But sometimes her soul was stirred 
 because he could not adapt himself to city life. Sometimes 
 she even confessed that it was really difficult for him to con- 
 duct his life so as to please her. 
 
 But after all, what could he find to do here? He was not 
 fond of cards. He did not go to the clubs. She now knew 
 what it meant to frequent the company of high livers, like 
 Oblonsky. It meant to drink and to but she could not 
 think without horror of the lives of these men. Should he 
 go into society? She knew that to enjoy that it would be 
 necessary to court the company of young ladies. Then, 
 should he sit at home with her, with her mother, and her 
 sister? But however pleasant these conversations might be 
 to her, she knew that they must be wearisome to him. What. 
 then, remained for him to do? Was he to go on with his 
 book? He intended to do this, and began to make researches 
 in the public library ; but, as he confessed to Kitty, the more 
 he had nothing to do, the less time he had, and that his in- 
 terest in his work was flagging. 
 
 One result of their life in Moscow was, that there were no 
 more quarrels between them, either because city conditions 
 were different, or because both were beginning to be more 
 guarded and prudent : the fact remained, that, since they left 
 the country, the scenes of jealousy which they feared might 
 again arise, were not repeated. 
 
 In these circumstances one very important affair for them 
 both took place : Kitty had a meeting with Vronsky. 
 
 Kitty's godmother, the Princess Marya Borisovna, was 
 always very fond of her, and wanted to see her. Kitty, though 
 she was not going into society now, went with her father to 
 see the old princess ; and there she met Vronsky. At sight 
 of the features once so familiar, she felt her heart beat fast, 
 and her face redden ; but this was all, for her emotion 
 lasted only a few seconds. The old prince hastened to begin 
 an animated discussion with Vronsky; and the conversation 
 was not over before Kitty was ready to look at Vronsky, or 
 to talk with him if need be, just as she was talking with the 
 princess, and, what was more, without a smile or an intona- 
 tion which would have been disagreeable to her husband, 
 whose invisible presence she felt near her at the moment.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 639 
 
 She exchanged some words with Vronsky, smiled when he 
 called the assembly at Kashin " our parliament," to show 
 that she understood the jest ; then she addressed herself to 
 the old princess, and did not turn her head until Vronsky 
 rose to take leave. Then she looked at him, but evidently 
 it was only because it is impolite not to look at a man when 
 he bows. 
 
 She was grateful to her father because he said nothing 
 about this meeting with Vronsk}- ; but Kitty understood 
 from his especial tenderness after their visit, that he was 
 satisfied with her. She felt satisfied with herself. She was 
 pleased to find that she was sufficiently mistress of her feel- 
 ings to see Vronsky again with perfect indifference. 
 
 It was hard for Kitty to tell Levin that she had met Vron- 
 sky, but still harder to tell all the details of the meeting. 
 
 " It was such a pit} 7 that you weren't there," she said to 
 her husband, "not in the room, for before you I should 
 not have been so self-possessed. I'm blushing now ever and 
 ever so much more than I did then but if you could have 
 looked through the keyhole." 
 
 At first Levin listened gloomily, and was more flushed 
 than she ; but her sincere eyes told him that she was satis- 
 fied with her behavior, and he asked her some questions, 
 just as she wished him to do. When he had heard the whole 
 story, even to the detail that she could not help blushing 
 for the first second, and afterwards was perfectly at her 
 ease, Levin grew extraordinarily gay, and declared that he 
 was very glad of it, and that in future he should not behave 
 so foolishly as he had done at the elections, but that when 
 he met Vronsky again he should be as friendly as possible. 
 
 "It is so painful to look upon him as an enemy, whom it 
 is hard to meet." 
 
 II. 
 
 "PLEASE don't forget to call at the Bohls'," said Kitty, 
 as her husband came to her room, about eleven o'clock in 
 the morning, before going out. " I know that you are going 
 to the club, because papa wrote you." 
 
 " I'm going to Katavasof's." 
 
 " Why are you going so early? " 
 
 " He promised to introduce me to Metrof, a famous scholar 
 from Petersburg. 1 want to talk over my book with him."
 
 640 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 
 
 " Da! wasn't it his article you were praising? Nu! and 
 after that?" 
 
 "Possibly to the tribunal, about that affair of my sister's." 
 
 " Aren't you going to the concert? " 
 
 " Dal why should I go all alone? " 
 
 " Do go. They're going to give those new pieces : it will 
 interest you. I would certainly go." 
 
 " Nu! at all events, I shall come home before dinner," 
 said he, looking at his watch. 
 
 "Put on your best coat, so as to go to the Countess 
 Bohl's." 
 
 " Da! is this really necessary?" 
 
 " Ach! certainly. The count came here himself. Nu! 
 what does it cost you? You go, you sit down, you talk 
 five minutes about the weather, then you get up and go." 
 
 " Nu! you don't realize that I am so out of practice, 
 that I feel abashed. How is it? A strange man comes, 
 sits down, stays a little while without any business, is in the 
 way, feels awkward, and goes." 
 
 Kitty laughed. 
 
 "Da! didn't you use to make calls when you were 
 young?" 
 
 " Yes, but I was always bashful," said he ; " and now I am 
 so out of the way of it, that I would rather not have any din- 
 ner for two days than make this call. I am so bashful. It 
 seems to me as if they would take offence, and say, ' Why 
 do you come without business ? ' ' 
 
 "No, they don't take offence. I will answer for you," 
 said Kitty, looking brightly into his face. She took his 
 hand. " Nu, proshcha'i! please go ! " 
 
 He kissed his wife's hand, and was about to go, when she 
 stopped him. 
 
 " Kostia, do you know I have only fifty rubles left? " 
 
 u Nu! I will go and get some from the bank," said he, 
 with his well-known expression of vexation. 
 
 " Don't think I run into unnecessary expense : still, the 
 money runs away. We must retrench somehow or other." 
 
 Not at all," said Levin, with a little cough, and looking 
 askance upon her. 
 
 She knew this cough. It was a sign of strong vexation, 
 not with her, but with himself. He was actually discon- 
 tented, not because much money was spent, but because it 
 reminded him of what he wanted to forget.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 641 
 
 " I have ordered Sokolof to sell the corn, and to get the 
 rent of the mill in advance. We shall have money enough." 
 
 " No ; but I fear, that, as a general thing " 
 
 " Not at all, not at all," he repeated. " Nu! proshcha'i, 
 dushenka" [good-bj 7 , little soul]. 
 
 " Sometimes I wish I hadn't listened to mamma. How 
 happy we were in the country ! I tire you all, waiting for 
 me ; and the money we spend " 
 
 "Not at all, not at all! Not one single time since we 
 were married till now have I thought that things would have 
 been better than they are." 
 
 u Truly? " said she, looking into his face. 
 
 He said that, thinking only to comfort her. But when he 
 saw her gentle, honest eyes turned to him with an inquiring 
 look, he repeated what he had said with his whole heart ; 
 and he remembered what was coming to them so soon. 
 
 " How do you feel this morning? " he asked, taking both 
 her hands in his. 
 
 " I sometimes think that I don't think and don't know 
 any thing." 
 
 And she added with a smile, " I feel perfectly well." 
 
 " If that is so, then I am going to Katavasof's." 
 
 " I am going with papa to take a little walk on the boule- 
 vard. We are going to see Dolly. I shall expect you back 
 before dinner. Ach, da! Do you know, Dolly's position is 
 getting to be entirely unendurable? She is in debt on every 
 side, and hasn't any mone\' at all. We talked about it yes- 
 terday with mamma and Arsny, this was her sister Na- 
 tali Lvova's husband, and they decided that you should 
 scold Stiva. It is truly unendurable. It is impossible for 
 papa to speak about it ; but if you and he " 
 
 " Nu! what can we do? " asked Levin. 
 
 " You had better go to Arsen3*'s, and talk with him : he 
 will tell you what we decided about it." 
 
 " Nu! I will follow Arsny's advice. Then, I will go 
 right to his house. By the way, if he is at the concert, then 
 I will go with Natali. Nu , proshcha'i ! " 
 
 On the staircase, old Kuzma, who acted in the city as 
 steward, stopped his master. 
 
 " Krasavtchika [Beauty] has just been shod, and it lamed 
 her : " this was Levin's left pole-horse, that he had brought 
 from the country : " what shall I do? " said he. 
 
 When Levin established himself in Moscow, he brought
 
 642 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 his horses from the country. He wanted to set up a suitable 
 stable which should not cost too heaviby ; but he was obliged 
 to confess that hired horses would have been less expensive, 
 for in order to save his own beasts, he constantly took 
 izvoshcfi iks. 
 
 " Take her to the horse-doctor : perhaps she is bruised." 
 
 It no longer troubled Levin, as it did at first, to have a 
 pair of strong horses pnt into his heavy carriage, and pay 
 five rubles for the use of them for a few hours. Now it 
 seemed to him the natural thing to do. 
 
 " Get a pair of the izvoshchik, and put them to our car- 
 riage," he said. 
 
 " I will obey " [sfas/m'w-s] . 
 
 Levin went down-stairs ; and as soon as he got into the 
 carriage, he no longer thought of the question of expense, 
 but went over in his mind what he should say to the Peters- 
 burg scholar about his book. 
 
 It was only during the early days of Levin's stay in Mos- 
 cow that the heav} T bills worried him. He was quite used to 
 it. When he took the first hundred-ruble note for the pur- 
 chase of liveries for the servants, he remembered that a 
 hundred rubles represented the wages of two workmen for 
 a year, or of three hundred day-laborers ; and he asked 
 himself if liveries were indispensable. The profound aston- 
 ishment of the princess and Kitty at this question silenced 
 him. At the second bill of twenty-eight rubles, for provis- 
 ions bought for a family dinner, he hesitated less, though 
 he still mentally computed the number of measures of oats 
 represented by the money. After that, bills flew about him 
 like little birds. Levin no longer asked whether the pleasure 
 bought by his money was proportionate to his pains in getting 
 it : he forgot his principles, in the duty of selling his corn at 
 the highest price possible, and no longer even thought of 
 telling himself that the course he was pursuing would soon 
 run him into debt. 
 
 Only one thing seemed to him necessary, to have money 
 enough in the bank to serve for the daily needs of the house- 
 hold. But now his deposit at the bank was exhausted, and 
 he did not know at all when he could replenish it. The re- 
 quest which Kitty had just made troubled him ; but he could 
 arrange that by and by. He drove away, thinking of Kata- 
 vasof , and his approaching acquaintance with Metrof .
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 643 
 
 III. 
 
 LEVIN found his old university friend, Professor Katavasof , 
 very congenial. He had not seen him since the day of his 
 wedding. He admired his judgment, and thought that the 
 clearness of Katavasof's conceptions brought out his own 
 want of fulness : Katavasof thought that the incoherence of 
 Levin's ideas came from want of mental discipline. Kata- 
 vasof's clearness pleased Levin, and Levin's richness of 
 undisciplined thought pleased Katavasof, and they both liked 
 to meet and discuss. 
 
 Levin read him some passages of his book, and he was 
 struck by their originality. On the evening before, he hap- 
 pened to meet Levin, and told him that the celebrated 
 scholar, Professor Metrof, whose work had pleased Levin, 
 was in Moscow, and was greatly interested in what he had 
 told him of his friend's work. He was to be at Katavasof s 
 house the next day at eleven o'clock, and would be delighted 
 to make Levin's acquaintance. 
 
 Katavasof received Levin in his sitting-room. "Delighted 
 to see you, bdtiushka. I heard the bell, and wondered if it 
 could be time. Nu!" And Katavasof in a few wqrds 
 described his famous visitor, and then, taking him into his 
 library, presented him to a short, solid, very pleasant-looking 
 man. This was Metrof. The conversation for a short time 
 turned on politics, and on the views hel'l by the high authori- 
 ties in Petersburg in regard to the recent elections. Metrof, 
 in regard to this, quoted some significant words spoken by 
 the Emperor and one of the ministers which he had heard 
 from a reliable source. Katavasof declared that the Em- 
 peror's words were diametrically opposite ; and as his author- 
 ity was equally reliable, Levin was free to take his choice 
 between the two. 
 
 " Da! here is the gentleman who is writing a book on the 
 natural condition of the laborer in relation to the soil," said 
 Katavasof. u I am not a specialist, but it pleases me as a 
 naturalist that he does not consider the human race outside 
 of zoological laws, but recognizes man's dependence on Ins 
 environment, and seeks to find in this dependence the laws 
 of his development." 
 
 "That's very interesting," said Metrof. 
 
 "I began simply to write a book on rural economy" [sel-
 
 644 ANNA EARtNINA. 
 
 skoe JchnzydMvo~\, said Levin, blushing; "but in studying 
 the principal instrument, the laborer, 1 arrived at a decidedly 
 unexpected conclusion, in spite of myself." 
 
 And Levin expatiated on his ideas, trying the ground 
 carefully as he did so, for he knew that Metro!' had written 
 an article against the current views on political economy ; 
 and how far he could hope for sympathy in his new views, he 
 did not know, and could not tell from the scholar's .calm, 
 intellectual face. 
 
 44 How, in your opinion, does the Russian laborer differ 
 from that of other peoples ?" asked Metrof. "Is it from 
 the point of view which you call zoological? or from that of 
 the material conditions in which he finds himself? " 
 
 This way of putting the question proved to Levin how 
 widely their opinions diverged : nevertheless, he continued 
 to set forth his theory, which was based upon the idea that 
 the Russian people could not have the same relation to the 
 soil as the other European nations ; and to prove this posi- 
 tion, he hastened to add, that, in his opinion, the Russian 
 people feel instinctively predestined to populate the immense 
 uncultivated tracts stretching towards the East. 
 
 44 It is easy to form premature conclusions, and be mis- 
 taken about the general destiny of a people," said Metrof, 
 interrupting Levin ; " and as to the situation of the laborer, 
 it will always depend on his relation to land and capital." 
 
 And without giving Levin time to reply, he explained how 
 his own views differed from those usually received. Levin 
 neither understood, nor did he try to understand, in what 
 consisted the peculiarity of his views. lie saw that Metrof, 
 like all the rest, notwithstanding his article, in which he 
 refuted the teachings of the economists, looked upon the 
 condition of the Russian people from stand-points of capital, 
 wages, and rent, though he was obliged to confess that 
 for the eastern and by far the greater part of Russia, there 
 was no such thing as rent ; that for nine-tenths of Russia's 
 eighty millions, wages consisted in a bare subsistence, and 
 that capital did not yet exist except as it was represented by 
 tools that were primitive. Metrof differed from the other 
 representatives of the school only in a new theory as to 
 wages, which he demonstrated at length. 
 
 Levin listened with some disgust, and tried to reply. He 
 wanted to interrupt Metrof, in order to express his own opin- 
 ions. But finally recognizing how. utterly the 1 }- differed, he
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 645 
 
 let Mctrof talk, and only listened. Though he was not at all 
 interested in what he said, he felt extremely pleased as he 
 listened to him. He was flattered to the last degree that 
 such a learned man would condescend to give him the benefit 
 of his thoughts, and showed him so much deference. He did 
 not know that the eminent professor, having worn out his 
 own circle on this subject, was not sorry to have a new 
 auditor ; and, moreover, that he liked to talk on the subjects 
 which occupied him, because he found that an oral demon- 
 stration helped to elucidate certain points for his own benefit. 
 
 " We shall be late," remarked Katavasof at last, consult- 
 ing his watch. " Da! there is a special session to-day at 
 the 'Society of Friends ' [Obshchestvo Liubitetye], semi-cen- 
 tennial celebration of Svintitch," he added, in reply to Le- 
 vin's question. " I promised to speak on his work in zoology. 
 Come with us : it will be interesting." 
 
 " Yes, come," said Metrof ; " and then afterwards, if you 
 like, come home with me. I should greatly like to hear your 
 work." 
 
 "It is only a sketch, not worth much ; but I should like 
 to go with you to the session." 
 
 When the}' reached the universit}', the session had already 
 begun. Six persons were sitting around a table covered 
 with a cloth ; and one of them, nearly doubled up over a 
 manuscript, was reading. Katavasof and Metrof took their 
 places at the table. Levin sat down in an unoccupied chair 
 near a student, and asked him in a low voice what they 
 were reading. The student, looking angrily at Levin, re- 
 plied, "The biography." 
 
 Levin listened to the biograplry mechanically, and learned 
 various interesting particulars of the life of the celebrated 
 savant. When the reader came to an end, the chairman 
 congratulated him, and then read a poem which had been 
 sent him in honor of the occasion. Then Katavasof read in 
 a loud, brilliant voice a sketch of the work of Svintitch. 
 When Katavasof had finished, Levin, seeing that the hour 
 was late, excused himself to Metrof for not being able to go 
 home with him, and stole away. He had had time, during 
 the session, to reflect on the uselessness of his acquaintance 
 with the Petersburg economist. If they were both to work 
 to advantage, it could only be by pursuing their studies, 
 each in his own line.
 
 646 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 IV. 
 
 LVOF, Natali's husband, to whose house Levin went, had 
 just established himself at Moscow to superintend there the 
 education of his two sons. He had received his education 
 abroad, and had passed his life in the principal capitals of 
 Europe, to which his diplomatic duties called him. 
 
 In spite of a considerable difference in age, and very dif- 
 ferent opinions, these two men had seen much of each other 
 this fall, and had become great friends. 
 
 Levin found his brother-in-law at home, and went in with- 
 out ceremony. Lvof, in a house-coat with a belt, and in 
 chamois-skin slippers, was reading with a pince-nez [eye- 
 glasses] of blue glass on, as he sat in front of a stand, and 
 held a half-burned cigar in his shapely hand. His handsome, 
 delicate, and still youthful face, to which his shining, silvery 
 hair gave an expression of aristocratic dignity, lighted up 
 with a smile as he saw Levin. 
 
 " Good ! I was just going to send to find out about you 
 all. How is Kitty?" said he; and, rising, he pushed for- 
 ward a rocking-chair. "Sit down here: }-ou'll find this 
 better. Have you read the circular of the Journal de St. 
 Petersbourg? I find it excellent. She is very well?" he 
 inquired, with a slight French accent. 
 
 Levin informed him of what he had heard as to the reports 
 in circulation at Petersburg ; and after having gone over the 
 questions that were up in politics, he told of his conversa- 
 tion with Metrof and the session at the university. 
 
 " Vot ! I envy you your intimacy in that society of pro- 
 fessors and savants," said Lvof, who had listened to him with 
 the keenest interest. " True, I could not meet them very 
 well. My public duties, and my occupation with the chil- 
 dren, would prevent it ; and then, I do not feel ashamed to 
 say that my own education is too faulty." 
 
 "I can't think that," said Levin with a smile, who was 
 touched by the genuineness of this humility. 
 
 " Acli, kdkzhe! I now feel how little I know. Now that 
 I am educating my sous, I am obliged to refresh my mem- 
 ory. I learn my lessons over again. Just as in your 
 estate, you have to have workmen and overseers, so here it 
 needs some one to watch them. But I am learning," and 
 he pointed to Buslaef's grammar on the reading-stand,
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. G47 
 
 " and it is so hard. Nu! tell me one thing. Here he says 
 but you are laughing at me." 
 
 " On the contraiy, you can't imagine how much I learn, 
 when I look at you. about the way to teach children." 
 
 " Nu! You could not learn much from me." 
 
 " I only know that I never saw children so well brought up 
 as yours, and I should not want better children than yours." 
 
 Lvof evidently wanted to hide his satisfaction, but his 
 face lit up with a smile. 
 
 " Only let them be better than I. That is all that I want. 
 But you don't know the bother," he began, " with malchiks, 
 who, like mine, have been allowed to run wild abroad." 
 
 " You are regulating all that. They are such ready chil- 
 dren. The main thing is their moral training. And this 
 is what I learn in looking at you." 
 
 " You speak of the moral training. You can't imagine 
 how hard it is. Just as soon as you have conquered one 
 crop of weeds, others spring up, and there is always a 
 fight. If you don't have a support in religion between 
 ourselves no father on earth, relying on his own strength 
 and without this help, could ever succeed in training them." 
 
 This conversation, which was extremely interesting to 
 Levin, was interrupted by the pretty Natali Aleksandrovna, 
 dressed for going out. 
 
 "I didn't know you were here," said she to Levin, evi- 
 dently not regretting, but even rejoicing, that she had inter- 
 rupted this conversation, which was too long for her pleasure. 
 l *'Nnt how is Kitty? I am going to dine with you to-day. 
 Vot tcht6! Ars^ny," she said, turning to her husband, " you 
 take the carriage." . . . 
 
 And between husband and wife began a discussion of the 
 question how the}' should spend the day. As the husband 
 had to attend to his official business, and the wife was going 
 to the concert and to a public session of the Committee of 
 the South-East, it was needful to reason, and think it all 
 over. Levin, as a member of the family, was obliged to take 
 part in these plans. It was decided that he should go with 
 Natali to the concert and to the public meeting, and then 
 send the carriage to the office for Arse"ny, and that then they 
 should go all together to Kitty's. 
 
 'This man is spoiling me," said Lvof to his wife : "he 
 assiuvs me that our children are lovely, when I know that 
 they are full of faults."
 
 648 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 "Arsny goes to extremes. I always said so," said his 
 wife. " If you expect perfection, you will never be satisfied. 
 And papa is right in saying that when we were children, they 
 went to one extreme : they kept us in the entresol, while the 
 parents lived in the beletage [the first floor] ; but now. on the 
 contrary, the parents live in the lumber-room, and the chil- 
 dren in the beletage. Parents now are of no account : every 
 thing must be for the children." 
 
 "Supposing this is more agreeable?" suggested Levin 
 with his winning smile as he offered her his arm. " Any one 
 not knowing you would think that you were not a mother, 
 but a mdtchika " [step-mother]. 
 
 " No, it is not good to go to extremes," said Natali gently, 
 laying his knife in its proper place on the table. 
 
 " Nu! vot! Come here, ye perfect children," said Lvof to 
 the handsome lads who came in, and, after bowing to Levin, 
 went to their father, evidently wishing to ask some favor of 
 him. 
 
 Levin wanted to speak with them, and to hear what they 
 said to their father, but Natali was talking with him ; and just 
 then Lvof's colleague, Makhotin, in his court-uniform, came 
 into the room, and began a lively conversation about Herze- 
 govina, the premature death of Madame Apraksiua, and other 
 things. 
 
 Levin forgot all about Kitty's message. He remembered 
 it just as they were starting. 
 
 " Ach! Kitty commissioned me to speak with you about 
 Oblonsky," said he, as Lvof went with them to the head of 
 the staircase. 
 
 "Yes, yes! merman wants us, les beatix-freres [brothers- 
 in-law], to attack him. But how can I? " 
 
 "Then, I'll undertake it," said Levin, smiling; and he 
 ran to rejoin his sister-in-law, who was waiting for him at 
 the foot of the staircase, wrapped in her white furs. 
 
 V. 
 
 THAT day two very interesting works were performed at 
 the musical matinee, which was held at the Assembly Hall : 
 one was a fantasie, " King Lear on the Heath ; " and a quar- 
 tet dedicated to the memory of Bach. Both works were new 
 and of a new school, and Levin wished to form an opinion
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 about them. Having escorted his sister-in-law to her seat, 
 he went and leaned against a column, in order to be away 
 from any personal influence, and to listen conscientiously 
 and attentively. He tried not to have his attention dis- 
 tracted by the waving hands of the leader of the orchestra, 
 by the toilets of the ladies, or by the sight of all these idle 
 faces, present at the concert for any thing but the music. 
 He especially avoided the amateurs and the connoisseurs, 
 who are so ready to talk, and stood with his eyes fixed on 
 vacancy, profoundly absorbed. 
 
 But the more he listened to the "King Lear" fantasie, the 
 more he felt the impossibility of forming a clear and exact 
 idea of it. The musical thought, at the moment of its de- 
 velopment, was constantly interrupted by the introduction of 
 new themes, or vanished, leaving onh* the impression of a 
 laborious attempt at instrumentation. But these same new 
 themes, beautiful as some of them were, gave an unpleasant 
 impression, because they were not expected or prepared for. 
 Gayety and sadness, despair, tenderness, triumph, followed 
 one another like the incoherent thoughts of a madman, to be 
 themselves followed by others as wild. 
 
 When the piece suddenly ended, Levin was surprised at 
 the fatigue which his mental intensity had caused him. He 
 felt like a deaf man who sees dancing ; and as he listened 
 to the applause of the audience, he wished to compare his 
 impressions with those of persons of musical ability. 
 
 People were rising on eveiy side to meet and talk with 
 one another in the interval between the two pieces ; and he 
 joined Pestsof, who was talking to one of the chief musical 
 connoisseurs. 
 
 ' It's wonderful," said Pestsof, in his deep bass. " How 
 are you, Konstantin Dmitritch? The passage that is the 
 richest in color, the most statuesque, if I may say so, is that 
 where Cordelia appears, where woman, das eicig Weibliche, 
 comes into conflict with fate. Don't you think so? " 
 
 "Why Cordelia?" asked Levin, with hesitation, for he 
 had wholly forgotten that King Lear had any thing to do 
 with it. 
 
 ' Cordelia appears here," said Pestsof, pointing to the 
 satin programme. Levin had not noticed the text of Shak- 
 speare, translated into Russian, printed on the back of the 
 programme. " You can't follow it without that." 
 
 Levin and Pestsof spent the interval in discussing the
 
 650 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 merits and defects of the Wagnerian tendency : Levin main- 
 tained that Wagner and his followers were wrong in trench- 
 ing upon the domain of the other arts ; Pestsof argued that 
 art is one, and that it can reach its loftiest manifestations 
 only by combining all its forms. 
 
 Levin could not listen to the second piece. Pestsof, who 
 was standing near him, kept talking to him most of the time, 
 criticising it for its excessive, mawkish, affected simplicity, 
 and comparing it to the simplicity of the Pre-Raphaelites in 
 painting. On his way out, he met numerous acquaintances, 
 with whom he exchanged remarks on politics and music : 
 among others he saw Count Bohl, and the call which he 
 should have made upon him came to mind. 
 
 " Nu! go quickly," said Xatali, to whom he confided his 
 remorse. "Perhaps the countess is not receiving. If so, 
 you will come and join me at the meeting. You will have 
 plenty of time." 
 
 VI. 
 
 "PERHAPS they are not receiving?" asked Levin, as he 
 entered the vestibule of Count Bohl's house. 
 
 k 'Oh, yes! Will you walk in?" answered the Swiss, 
 resolutely taking the visitor's shuba. 
 
 " What a nuisance! " thought Levin, drawing off one of 
 his gloves with a sigh, and turning his hat in his hands. 
 " Nu! why did I come? Nu! what am I going to say to 
 them?" 
 
 Passing through the first parlor, he met the Countess Bohl 
 at the door, who, with a perplexed and severe face, was. giv- 
 ing orders to a servant. When she saw Levin, she smiled, 
 and invited him to walk into a boudoir, where voices were 
 heard. In this room were sitting her two daughters and a 
 Muscovite colonel whom Levin knew. Levin bowed and 
 spoke to them, sat down near a sofa, and put nis hat between 
 his knees. 
 
 " How is your wife? Have you been to the concert? We 
 were not able to go. Mamma had to attend the requiem," 
 said one of the young ladies. 
 
 " Da! I heard about it what a sudden death ! " said 
 Levin. 
 
 The countess came in, sat down on the sofa, and asked 
 also about his wife and the concert.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 651 
 
 Levin replied, and asked some questions about the sudden 
 death of Madame Apraksina. 
 
 ' Besides, she was always in delicate health." 
 
 \Vere you at the opera yesterday? " 
 
 ' Yes, I was." 
 
 ' Lucca was very good." 
 
 'Yes, very good," he said; and he began, as though it 
 were entirely immaterial what they thought about him, to 
 repeat what he had heard a hundred times about the sing- 
 er's extraordinary talent. When he bad got through, the 
 colonel, who had hitherto held his peace, began also to speak 
 about the opera and about an illumination. Then, laughing, 
 he got up, and took his departure. Levin also got up, but 
 a look of surprise on the countess's face told him that it 
 was not yet time for him to go. Two minutes more at least 
 were necessary. He sat down. 
 
 But as he thought what a foolish figure he was cutting, he 
 was more and more incapable of finding a subject of conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " Are you going to the meeting of the committee? " asked 
 the countess. " They say it will be very interesting." 
 
 " 1 have promised to go there to fetch my beUe-soeur," 
 replied Levin. 
 
 Silence again : the mother exchanged a look with her 
 daughter. 
 
 "Nit! it must be time to go," thought Levin ; and he rose. 
 The ladies shook hands with him, and charged him with 
 mille chases ["' a thousand messages "J for his wife. 
 
 The Swiss, as he put on his shuba for him, asked his ad- 
 dress, and wrote it gravely in a large, handsomely bound 
 book. 
 
 " Of course, it's all the same to me ; but how useless and 
 ridiculous it all is ! " thought Levin,* as he went to the place 
 where the public meeting was held. 
 
 He found many people there, and a number of acquaint- 
 ances ; among them, Sviazhsky, who had just come to town, 
 and Stepan Arkadyevitch. After talking about various mat- 
 ters, he joined his sister-in-law, and took her home. 
 
 Finding Kitty well and happy, he went off to the club, 
 where he was to meet his father-in-law.
 
 652 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 VII. 
 
 LEVIN had not set foot in the club since the time when, 
 having finished his studies at the university, he passed a 
 winter at Moscow, and went into society. He remembered 
 the club in a general sort of way, but had entirely forgotten 
 the impressions which, in former days, it had made upon 
 him. But as soon as he entered the great semicircular 
 court, sent away his izvoshchik, and mounted the staircase, 
 and saw the liveried Swiss noiselessly open the door for him ; 
 as soon as he saw the goloshes and shubas of the members, 
 who felt that it was less work to take them off down-stairs, 
 and leave them with the Swiss, than to lug them up-stairs ; as 
 soon as the well-known sights and sounds of the club met 
 him, he felt, as formerly, a kind of satisfaction, joined 
 with the consciousness of being in good company. 
 
 "It's a long time since we have had the pleasure of see- 
 ing you here," said the second Swiss, who received him at 
 the top of the staircase. "The prince wrote to you yester- 
 day. Prince Stepan Arkadyevitch has not come yet." 
 
 The Swiss knew not only Levin, but all his connections and 
 family, and took pleasure in reminding him of his relation- 
 ships. 
 
 As Levin came into the dining-hall, he found the tables 
 almost wholly occupied. Among the guests he recognized 
 friendly faces, the old prince, and young Shcherbatsky, 
 Sviazhsky, Sergei Ivanovitch, Nevyedovsky, Vronsky ; and 
 all, old and young, seemed to have left their cares, with 
 their furs, in the hat-room, and to think of nothing but of 
 enjoying the pleasures of life. 
 
 " You come late," sajd the old prince, extending his hand 
 to his son-in-law over his shoulder, and smiling. " How is 
 Kitty? " added he, putting a corner of his napkin into the 
 button-hole of his vest. 
 
 " She is well, and is dining with her two sisters." 
 
 "Ah! the old story. Nu! there's no room for us here. 
 Da! hurry up, and take that table there. They're all full 
 here," said the prince, taking with care a plate of ukhd 
 [fish-soup]. 
 
 " Here, Levin," cried a jovial voice from the other cud of 
 the room. It was Turovtsuin. He was sitting with a young 
 officer, and near him were two chairs tipped up. Levin, with
 
 ANNA KAR&N1NA. 653 
 
 joy, went to join him. He always liked the good-hearted, 
 prodigal Turovtsuiu ; and now, especially, the sight of him 
 was delightful. 
 
 " These places were for you and Oblonsky. He will be 
 here directly," said Turovtsuin ; and then he introduced him 
 to the young officer with bright, laughing eyes, Gagin, 
 from Petersburg. 
 
 " Oblonsky is always late." 
 
 "Ah ! here he is." 
 
 "You have only just come, haven't you? " asked Oblon- 
 sky of Levin, hurrying up to him. " Your health. Will you 
 take vodka? Nu! come on." 
 
 Levin got up, and went with him to a long table, upon which 
 a most select zakuska was set out. Stepan Arkadyevitch, 
 however, not finding any of the twoscore kinds of drink to 
 his mind, thought good to ask for a special concoction, which 
 a servant in lively hastened to get for him. 
 
 Immediately after the uklid, champagne was served. Levin 
 was hungry, and ate and drank with great satisfaction ; and 
 with still greater satisfaction he took part in the gay and 
 lively conversation of his neighbors. Gagin, who had already 
 taken four glasses of champagne, told a new Petersburg anec- 
 dote ; and, though it was rather broad, it was so funny that 
 Levin laughed uproariously. Stepan Arkadyevitch ordered 
 more champagne, and then, taking his glass, drank to the 
 health of a bald, ruddy, mustachioed gentleman at the other 
 end of the table. 
 
 " Who is that? " asked Levin. 
 
 "You met him at my house once, don't you remember? 
 Good fellow." 
 
 Levin followed Oblonsky's example, and took his glass. 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch's anecdote was also very diverting. 
 Then Levin told his story, which likewise raised a laugh. 
 Then the conversation turned on horses and races ; and they 
 told how Vronsky's trotter, Atlas, had just won a prize. 
 
 "And here he is!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, towards 
 the end of the dinner, turning round in his chair to extend 
 his hand to Vronsky, who was walking with a tall colonel of 
 the Guards. Vrousky leaned towards Oblonsky, whispered 
 some words in his ear with an air of good-humor, and ex- 
 tended his hand with a friendly smile to Levin. 
 
 "Very glad to meet you," said he. " I looked for you 
 everywhere after the election. But they told me you had 
 gone."
 
 654 ANNA 
 
 "Da! I ran away the same day. We have just bee 
 speaking of your trotter. It was a very fast race." 
 
 " Da! haven't you race-horses too? " 
 
 "I? No. My father had horses, and I know about 
 them . ' ' 
 
 " Where did you dine? " asked Oblonsky. 
 
 " At the second table, behind the columns." 
 
 " He has been loaded down with congratulations. It's 
 very pretty, a second Imperial prize. I wish I could 
 only have the same luck at play as he does with horses. 
 Nu I how they waste golden time ! I am going to the In- 
 fernalnaia," said the tall colonel. 
 
 " That's Yashvin," said Vronsky to Turovtsuin, as he sat 
 down in a vacant place near them. Under the influence of 
 the wine and the social atmosphere of the club, Levin talked 
 cordially with him about the better breeds of cattle, and was 
 happy to feel no more hatred against his former rival. He 
 even made an allusion to the meeting which had taken place 
 at the house of the Princess Marya Borisovna. 
 
 "Ach! the Princess Marya Borisovna? What a woman !" 
 exclaimed Stepan Arkadyevitch ; and he told an anecdote of 
 the old lady, which made everybody laugh, and especially 
 Vronsky. 
 
 "Well, gentlemen, if we have done, let's go," said Ob- 
 lonsky. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 As Levin, in company with Gagin, quitted the dining-hall, 
 he felt that his walk was singularly straight, and that his 
 hands moved easily. In the large room he met his father- 
 in-law. 
 
 "Nu! What do you think of our Temple of Indolence?" 
 asked the old prince, taking his son-in-law by the arm. 
 " Come, take a turn." 
 
 " I ask nothing better. This is interesting." 
 
 "Yes, to you; but my interest in it is different from 
 yours. When you see old men like that," said he, designat- 
 ing a man with stooping shoulders, and falling lip, whose 
 feeble feet, in soft boots, were bearing him across the hall, 
 "you would think that they were born sJdhqjiks." 
 
 "How ahliupiksf" 
 
 "Here you are, and don't know what that means ! That
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 655 
 
 is our club term. You kuow how eggs roll. Well, when 
 any one goes with a gait like that, he becomes a shliupik. 
 And so our brother yonder goes slithering through the club, 
 he becomes a sMiiipik. Do, vot ! you laugh ; but our brother 
 Do you know Prince Tchetchensky? " he asked; and Levin 
 saw by his face that he was going to tell some ridiculous 
 yarn. 
 
 " No, I don't know him." 
 
 "Nu,kakzhe, nu! Prince Tchetchensky is famous. Nu! 
 That's all right. He's always playing billiards. Three years 
 ago he wasn't among the '.sMiupiks, but was a great gallant. 
 He himself called other people sMiupiks. Only he came one 
 time But our Swiss you know Vasili, our tall one? 
 he made a ban mot. Prince Tchetchensky asks him, ' Nu, 
 Vasili! anybody here yet? any shliupiks come ?' And Vasili 
 answers, k You are the third.' Z)a, brother ! how is that? " 
 
 The two men walked on, chatting, and greeting their friends, 
 and passed through all the rooms, the main room, where 
 there were men playing cards ; the divan-room, where others 
 were having games of chess, and Sergei Ivauovitch was talk- 
 ing with some one ; the billiard-room, where a gay group of 
 players, among them Gagin, had gathered around several 
 bottles of champagne. They cast a glance at the Infernal- 
 wa'i'a, where, at the gambling-table, Yashvin, surrounded by 
 men betting, was already established. With hushed voices, 
 they entered the reading-room. A young man with a stern 
 face was turning over the leaves of the papers under the 
 lamp, while near by was a bald-headed general absorbed in 
 reading. They passed quietly into a room which the prince 
 called the Hall of the Wits, and there they found three gen- 
 tlemen talking politics. 
 
 " Prince, we're all ready, if you please," said one of his 
 partners, who had been looking for him in all quarters. And 
 the prince went. 
 
 Levin sat down, and listened to the three gentlemen for a 
 while : then recalling all the conversations of the same kind 
 he had heard since morning, he felt excessively bored. He 
 got up, and went off to find Turovtsuin and Oblonsky, who 
 were sure to be gay. 
 
 Turovtsuin was with the champagne-drinkers on the high 
 divan in the billiard-room, and Stepan Arkadyevitch and 
 Vronsky were talking in a corner near the door. 
 
 " Not that she finds it tedious," Levin heard in passing;
 
 656 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 "but it's the uncertainty, the indefiniteness of the situa- 
 tion." 
 
 He was about to pass on discreetly, but Stepan Arkady e- 
 vitch called him. 
 
 " Levin," said he: and Levin saw that there were tears 
 in his eves, as was alwa}^ the case, either after he had been 
 drinking, or when he was touched ; and just now it was 
 both. " Levin, don't go; " and he took him by the arm, 
 and detained him. " He is my sincere, possibly my best, 
 friend," said he, addressing Vronsky. "You, too, are more 
 like a kinsman and a friend to me. I want to bring you to- 
 gether, and see you friends. You ought to be friends, be- 
 cause you are both good men." 
 
 " There's nothing left for us but to give the kiss of friend- 
 ship," said Vronsky gayly, offering his hand to Levin, who 
 pressed it cordially. 
 
 " I am very, very glad," said Levin. 
 
 " Waiter, a bottle of champagne ! " cried Oblonsky. 
 
 " I am also very glad," said Vronsky. But, in spite of 
 their mutual satisfaction, the}- did not know what to say. 
 
 " Do you know, he doesn't know Anna? " remarked Ob- 
 lonsky ; "and I want to introduce him to her. Come on, 
 Levin." 
 
 " Is it possible? " said Vronsky. " She will be very much 
 pleased. I should beg you to come at once, but I am dis- 
 turbed about Yashvin, and I want to stay here till he is 
 through." 
 
 " Is he going to lose? " 
 
 " All he has. I am the only one who has any influence over 
 him," said Vronsky ; and, after a moment, he quitted them. 
 
 Levin and Oblonsky played a game of billiards, and then 
 went to the Ivfornalna'in* where they found Vronsky still 
 watching Yashvin. As he was not yet ready, Stepan Arkad- 
 yevitch took Levin's arm, saying, 
 
 " Nu! let us go to see Anna right away. Ha? She is at 
 home. I promised her to bring you a long time ago. What 
 are you going to do this evening? " 
 
 " Da! nothing particular. Come on, if you wish." 
 
 "Agreed. Have my carriage brought," said Oblonsky, 
 addressing a lackey. 
 
 Levin went to the desk, paid the forty rubles which he 
 had lost at cards, gave his fee to the old lackey who was 
 standing by the door, and went down to the entrance.
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 657 
 
 IX. 
 
 " PRINCE ORLONSKY'S carriage ! " cried the Swiss in a voice 
 of thunder. The carriage came up, and the two friends got 
 in. Only as long as the carriage was still in the court-yard 
 did Levin continue to experience the feeling of clubbish com- 
 fort, of satisfaction, and of indubitable decorum, which had 
 surrounded him. But as soon as the carriage rolled out on 
 the street, the jolting over the uneven pavement, the cries of 
 the angry izvoshchiks whom they met, and the sight of the 
 red sign of a low public house, brought him back to reality. 
 He asked himself if he were doing right in going to see 
 Anna. What would Kitty say? Stepan Arkadyevitch, as 
 if he had divined what was passing in the mind of his com- 
 panion, cut short his meditations. 
 
 " How glad lam to introduce you to her! You know 
 Dolly has been wishing it for a long time. Lvof goes to her 
 house too. Though she is my sister, I am bold enough to 
 say that she is a remarkable woman. You will see it. Her 
 position is very sad, especially just now." 
 
 " Why do you say ' especiall}' now ' ? " 
 
 " We are negotiating for a divorce, and her husband is 
 willing ; but there are difficulties on account of the son ; and 
 this matter, which ought to have been settled long ago, is 
 dragging on now these three months. As soon as the divorce 
 is granted, she will marry Vronsky, and her position will 
 become as regular as yours or mine." 
 
 " Where does the difficulty lie? " 
 
 " Achl it is a long and tiresome story, every thing is so 
 undecided. But this is the point: she has been waiting 
 three months for that divorce here in Moscow, where every- 
 body knows her and him ; and she doesn't see a single 
 woman but Dolly, because she doesn't wish to impose herself 
 on any one. What do }'ou think? That fool of a Princess 
 Yarvara sent word to her that she left her for propriety's 
 sake. Any other woman than Anna would have gone to 
 ruin ; but you shall see how she lives, how dignified and 
 calm she is." 
 
 " To the left, opposite the church," cried Oblonsky to the 
 coachman, leaning out of the window. " Fa, how hot it 
 is! " he added, throwing open his shuba in spite of twelve 
 decrees of cold.
 
 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 " Da! she has a daughter, hasn't she, to take up her time 
 and attention? " 
 
 " You seem to imagine every woman to be a mere cou- 
 veuse" [setting-hen], said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "Why, 
 yes, of course, she gives her time and attention to her daugh- 
 ter; but she doesn't make any fuss about it. Her interests 
 are intellectual. She writes. I see you smile ironically, but 
 you are wrong. She has written a book for young people. 
 She hasn't spoken of it to any one, except to me : and I 
 showed the manuscript to Vorkuyef , the publisher, you know ; 
 he writes himself, it seems. He is up in such matters, and 
 he says that it is a remarkable thing. Don't think, for a 
 moment, that she sets up for a blue-stocking. Anna is, 
 above all things, a woman with a heart, as you will see. She 
 has in her house a little English girl and a whole family, 
 and is looking after them." 
 
 " For philanthropy's sake? " 
 
 " Here you are trying to make fun out of it. It is not for 
 philanthropy's sake, but because she loves to do it. They 
 had that is, Vrousky had an English trainer, a master in 
 his calling, but a drunkard. He did nothing but drink de- 
 lirium tremens and abandoned his family. Anna saw them, 
 helped them, got drawn in more and more, and now has the 
 whole family on her hands. I don't mean merely by giving 
 them money. She herself teaches the boys Russian, so as to 
 fit them for the gymnasium ; and she has taken the little girl 
 home with her. Da, vot! you shall see her." 
 
 At this moment, the carriage entered a court-yard. Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch rang at the door before which they had stopped, 
 and, without inquiring whether the mistress of the house was 
 at home, went into the vestibule. Levin followed him, more 
 and more uneasy as to the propriety of the step he was taking. 
 He saw, as he looked at himself in the glass, that he was very 
 red in the face ; but he knew that he was not tipsy. He went 
 up-stairs after Oblonsky. On the second floor a servant 
 received them with a bow ; and Stepan Arkadyevitch asked 
 him, as though he were a connection, " Who is with Anna 
 Arkadyevua?" and received the answer, " Mr. Vorkuyef." 
 
 " Where are they? " 
 
 "In the library." 
 
 They passed through a small, wainscoted dining-room, and 
 came to the library, dimly lighted by a single lamp with a huge 
 shade. A reflector-lamp on the wall threw its rays on a full-
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 659 
 
 length portrait of a woman, which instantly attracted Levin's 
 attention. It was the portrait of Anna, painted by Mikluu- 
 lof in Italy. While Stepan Arkad} T evitch went on, and the 
 man's voice which had been heard, ceased speaking, Levin 
 stood looking at the portrait which shone down from its 
 frame, and he could not tear himself away. He forgot 
 where he was ; and, not hearing what was said, he kept his 
 eyes fixed on the wonderful portrait. It was not a painting, 
 but a living, beautiful woman, with her dark, curling hair, 
 bare shoulders and hands, and a pensive half-smile on her 
 lovely lips, and gazing at him triumphantly and yet tenderly 
 from her entrancing eyes. Only because it was not alive did 
 it seem more beautiful than life itself. 
 
 " I am veiy glad" \_ya otclien rada], said a voice suddenly 
 behind him, evidently addressed to him, the voice of the 
 same woman whom he admired in the picture. 
 
 It was Anna, who had been concealed by a lattice-work of 
 climbing-plants, and who rose to receive her visitor. And 
 in the dusk of the chamber, Levin recognized the original of 
 the portrait, in a simple dark-blue dress. Not in the same 
 position, or with the same expression, but with the same 
 lofty beauty which had been so artistically expressed in the 
 painting. She was less brilliant in the reality, but the living 
 woman had a new attraction which the portrait lacked. 
 
 X. 
 
 SHE advanced towards him, and did not conceal the pleas- 
 ure which his visit caused her. With the ease and simpli- 
 city of a woman of the best society, she extended to him a 
 small, energetic hand, introduced him to Vorkuyef, and 
 mentioned by name the girl who was seated with her work 
 near the table. 
 
 " I am veiy, very glad ; " and in these simple words 
 spoken by her, Levin found an extraordinary significance. 
 " I have known you and liked you for ever so long, thanks 
 to Stiva and your wife. I knew her a very short time, but 
 she gave me the impression of a flower, a lovely flower. And 
 to think ! she will soon be a mother ! " 
 
 She talked without haste, looking from Levin to her 
 brother, and putting her visitor at his ease, as if they had 
 known one another from childhood. 

 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 Oblonsky asked if smoking was allowed. 
 
 " That is why we have taken refuge in AlekseTs study," 
 said she ; and looking at Levin, as though to ask, " Does he 
 smoke?" she held over a tortoise-shell cigar-case to him, 
 after taking a cigarette from it. 
 
 " How are you to-day? " said Stiva. 
 
 " Pretty well ; a little nervous, as usual." 
 
 "Isn't it extraordinarily good?" said Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch, noticing Levin's admiration of the portrait. 
 
 " I never saw any thing so perfect." 
 
 " An extraordinary likeness, isn't it?" added Vorkuyef. 
 
 Levin looked from the portrait to the original. Anna's 
 face lighted up with a glow that was wholly its own. Levin 
 looked at her attentively. He blushed, and, to conceal his 
 uneasiness, asked Madame Kareniua when she had seen 
 Dolly. 
 
 " Dolly? She was here yesterday, highly indignant at 
 Grisha's Latin teacher at the gymnasium. It seems he was 
 unfair to him. Ivan Petrovitch and I were talking just now 
 of Vashchenkof's pictures. Do you know them? " 
 
 " Yes: I have seen them," answered Levin, " and I like 
 them very much;" and the conversation turned upon the 
 new schools of painting, and the illustrations to the Bible 
 which a French painter had just made. Anna talked in- 
 telligently, without pretence, ready to be in the background 
 in order to make the others shine ; and Levin, instead of tor- 
 menting himself, as he had done that morning, found it 
 easy and agreeable either to talk or to listen. Speaking 
 of the exaggerated realism which Vorkuyef objected to in 
 French painting, Levin remarked that realism was a re-ac- 
 tion, for conventionality in art had never been pushed so 
 far as in France. 
 
 " Not to lie has come to be in itself poetic," said he ; and 
 he felt pleased to see an approving smile from Anna. 
 
 " What you say about French art is equally characteristic 
 of literature," replied she, " Zola and Daudet. That is, 
 perhaps, always the way. You begin by studying types that 
 are imaginary, some conventional ideal ; but when you 
 have worked out your combinaisons, the types seem dull and 
 cold, and you fall back on nature." 
 
 " That is true," said Vorkuyef. 
 
 " Have you been at the club? " said Anna to her brother, 
 leaning towards him, so as to speak in a low tone. 

 
 ANNA KARNINA. 661 
 
 "Da, da! there is a woman," thought Levin, absorbed 
 in contemplating that sensitive face, which, as she talked 
 with Stiva, expressed in turn curiosity, anger, and pride. 
 But Anna's emotion was fleeting. She half closed her eyes, 
 as if to collect her thoughts, and, turning towards the Eng- 
 lish girl, said in English, 
 
 " Please order the lea in the drawing-room." 
 
 The child rose, and went out. 
 
 "Nit! has she passed the examination?" asked Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch. 
 
 " Perfectly. She is a very capable girl, and a lovely char- 
 acter." 
 
 " You will end by loving her better than your own daugh- 
 ter." 
 
 "That's just like a man. In love, there is no such thing 
 as more or less. I love my child in one way, and this girl in 
 another." 
 
 " I tell Anna Arkady evna," said Vorkuyef, " that if she 
 would spend a hundredth part of the activity she devotes to 
 this little English girl for the benefit of Russian children, 
 what a service her energy would render. She would accom- 
 plish prodigies." 
 
 " Da, vot ! What you want, I can't do ! The Count Alek- 
 si Kirilluitch " she glanced with an air of timid inquiry 
 at Levin as she pronounced this name, and he responded by 
 a look that was encouraging, and full of admiration tk used 
 to encourage me, when we were in the country, to visit the 
 schools. I went a few times. They were very pleasant, but 
 I couldn't get interested in this occupation. You talk of 
 energy ; but the foundation of energy is love, and love does 
 not come at will. But why 1 love this little English girl, I 
 really don't know." 
 
 She looked at Levin again ; and her smile and her look 
 all told him that she spoke only with the aim of gaining his 
 approval, though sure in advance that they understood one 
 another. 
 
 "I agree with you thoroughly," cried he. "You can't 
 put your heart into schools and such things, and I think that 
 from the same reason philanthropic institutions generally 
 give such small results." 
 
 She was silent a moment, then she smiled. "Yes, yes," 
 she replied, " I never could. To love a whole asylum of 
 wretched little boys,Je n'aipas le coeur assez large [I haven't a
 
 662 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 heart large enough] ; cda ne m'a jamctis reussi [I never was 
 successful in that]. It is only women who do it to win for 
 themselves position sociale. Even now, when I have so much 
 need of occupation," added she with a sad, confiding ex- 
 pression, addressing Levin, though she was speaking to her 
 brother. Then suddenly frowning, and Levin saw that 
 she frowned because she had begun to speak of herself, 
 she changed the subject. 
 
 " You have the reputation of being only an indifferent 
 citizen," said she, smiling, to Levin; "but I have always 
 defended you." 
 
 " How have you defended me? " 
 
 "That has depended on the attacks. But suppose we 
 have some tea," said she, rising, and taking a morocco- 
 bound book that was lying on the table. 
 
 "Give it to me, Anna Arkadyevna," said Vorkuyef, point- 
 ing to the book. 
 
 " No : it's too trivial a thing." 
 
 "I have told him about it," whispered Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch, indicating Levin. 
 
 " You were wrong. My writings are like those little bas- 
 kets and carvings made by prisoners, which Liza Myertsalova 
 used to sell." She turned to Levin: "Those unfortunates 
 used to make perfect miracles of patience." 
 
 Levin was struck by a new feature in this remarkable, 
 fascinating woman. Besides wit, grace, beauty, she had 
 sincerity. She would not conceal the thorns of her situa- 
 tion. As she said that, she sighed, and her face suddenly 
 assumed a stern expression, as though it were changed to 
 stone. With this expression on her face., she was even more 
 beautiful than before. Levin cast a final glance at the mar- 
 vellous portrait, while Anna took her brother's arm, and a 
 feeling of tenderness and pity came over him. She let the 
 two gentlemen pass into the parlor, while she remained 
 behind to speak to Stiva. 
 
 "What is she talking with him about? the divorce? 
 Vronsky ? what he was doing at the club ? about me ? " thought 
 Levin ; and he was so stirred that he heard nothing that Vor- 
 kuyef was saying to him about the merits of the story for 
 children which Anna Arkadyevna had written. 
 
 During tea, a pleasant conversation full of ideas was 
 carried on. There seemed to be no lack of subjects at any 
 moment ; but it was felt that there was time to say all that
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 663 
 
 any one wanted to say, and each was willing to let the 
 other talk ; and all that was said bad a special interest 
 for Levin. 
 
 He listened to Anna, admired her intelligence, the cultiva- 
 tion of her mind, her tact, and her naturalness ; and while he 
 was listening and talking, he was thinking about her and her 
 inmost life, and trying to read her thoughts. 
 
 He who formerly had judged her so severely, now thought 
 only how to excuse her ; and the idea that she was not happy, 
 and that Vronsky did not understand her, weighed heavily 
 on him. It was more than eleven o'clock when Stepan Ar- 
 kadyevitch rose to go. Vorkuyef had already left some time 
 before. Levin rose, too, but with regret. He felt as if he 
 had only just come. 
 
 " Proshchat " [Farewell], said Anna to him, holding his 
 hand in hers, and looking into his eyes with a fascinating 
 look. 
 
 " I am glad que la glace est rompue " [the ice is broken]. 
 
 She let go his hand, and her eyes twinkled. " Tell your 
 wife that I love her as I have always done : and if she can- 
 not forgive me my situation, tell her how I hope she may 
 never pardon me ; for to pardon, it is necessary to understand 
 what I have suffered : and God preserve her from that ! " 
 
 "Z)a/ I will surely tell her," answered Levin, and the 
 color came into his face. 
 
 a wonderful, lovely, and pitiable woman!" 
 thought Levin, as he went out with Stepan Arkadyevitch 
 into the cold night air. 
 
 tl Nu! what did I tell you?" demanded Oblonsky, as he 
 saw that Levin was overcome. " Wasn't I right? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Levin thoughtfully, " an extraordinary 
 woman ! Not only intellectual, but she has a wonderfully 
 warm heart. What a terrible pity it is about her ! " 
 
 " Now, thank God, all will soon be arranged, I hope. 
 Nu! after this, don't form hasty judgments," said Ste- 
 pan Arkadyevitch, opening his carriage-door. " Proshchai 
 [Farewell] : we go different ways." 
 
 Levin went home, never ceasing to think about Anna, 
 recalling the smallest incidents of the evening, bringing back 
 all the charm of her face, and understanding her situation
 
 664 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 better and better, and, at the same time, feeling the deepest 
 commiseration for her. 
 
 Kuzma, as he opened the door, told Levin that Katerina 
 Aleksandrovna was well, and that her sisters had but just 
 left her. He handed him at the same time two letters, which 
 Levin ran through at once. One was from his prikashchik, 
 Sokolof. Sokolof wrote that he had not found a purchaser 
 who would give more than five and a half rubles for the 
 wheat. The other letter was from his sister, who reproached 
 him because her affairs were not yet regulated. 
 
 " Nu! we'll sell for five rubles and a half if they won't 
 give more," thought he, settling with extraordinary prompt- 
 ness the first question which had been troubling him. " As 
 to my sister, she is right, of course. But time goes so quickly, 
 that I didn't get the chance to go to court to-day, though I 
 meant to." 
 
 Resolving to go to-morrow, he went to his wife's chamber. 
 On his wa} T , he cast a quick glance back at his day. There 
 had been nothing except conversations, conversations in 
 which he had listened, and in which he had taken part. No 
 one of the subjects touched on would have occupied him 
 when in the country, but here they were very interesting. 
 And all the conversations in which he had engaged were 
 good : only in two places they were not absolutely good, 
 one was his jest at the club, the other was something intan- 
 gibly wrong in his feeling of pity for Anna. 
 
 Levin found his wife sad and absent-minded. The dinner 
 of the three sisters had been merry ; but afterwards they had 
 waited and waited for him, and the evening had seemed long 
 to them : and now Kitty was alone. 
 
 li Nu! what hast thou been doing?" she asked him, no- 
 ticing, as she did so, an unusual light in his e3~es, but taking 
 good care to conceal her suspicions, so as not to prevent him 
 from speaking. She smiled, and asked him to tell her how 
 he had spent the evening. 
 
 " Nu! I met Vronsky at the club, and I am very glad of 
 it. Every thing went off smoothly, and hereafter there will 
 be no more trouble between us; though I don't intend to 
 seek his society." As he said these words, he blushed; 
 for, in order not to " seek his society," he had gone to 
 Anna's house when he left the club. " Here we say the 
 peasantry drink ; but I don't know which drink more, the
 
 ANNA KARfiNlNA. 665 
 
 peasantry, or men in society. The peasantry drink on fes- 
 tival days, but " 
 
 Kitty was not interested in the question how much the 
 peasantry drink. She saw her husband's face change, and 
 she wanted to know the reason. 
 
 " Nn! where else hast thou been ? " 
 
 " Stiva bothered me to go with him to Anna Arkad- 
 yevna's," answered he, blushing more and more, with now 
 no longer a doubt as to the impropriety of his visit. 
 
 Kitty's eyes opened wide and flashed lightning at the men- 
 tion of Anna ; but she restrained herself, and, concealing her 
 anger, merely said, " Ah ! " 
 
 " You are not going to be vexed because I went? Stiva 
 begged me so persistently ; and Dolly wanted me to, as 
 well." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said she ; but in her eyes he saw a look which 
 boded little good. 
 
 " She is a very charming woman, who is to be pitied," 
 continued Levin ; and he described the life which Anna led, 
 and gave her message of remembrance to Kitty. 
 
 "Da! of course she is to be pitied," said Kitty when 
 he had finished. " Whom did you get a letter from ? " 
 
 He told her, and, misled by her apparent calmness, went 
 to undress. When he came back, Kitty had not stirred. 
 She sat in the same place, looked at him as he approached, 
 and burst into tears. 
 
 ' What's the matter?" he asked, with some anno} T ance ; 
 for he understood the cause of her tears. 
 
 " You are in love with that horrid woman. She has be- 
 witched you. I saw it in your eyes. Yes, yes ! What 
 will be the end of it? You were at the club; 3-011 drank 
 too much ; you gambled ; and then 3-011 went where ! No ! 
 this shall not go on. We must leave. I am going home 
 to-morrow ! " 
 
 It was long before Levin could pacify his wife ; and he 
 succeeded only by promising her to avoid Anna, whose 
 pernicious influence, together with an excess of champagne, 
 he had to confess, had clouded his brain. What he acknowl- 
 edged with more sincerity was the ill effect produced on him 
 by this idle life in Moscow, passed in eating, drinking, and 
 gossiping. The3 7 talked till three o'clock in the morning. 
 Onl3 T when it was three o'clock were they sufficiently recon- 
 ciled to go to sleep.
 
 666 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 XII. 
 
 AFTER having said good-by to her visitors, without sitting 
 down, Anna began to walk up and down the full length of 
 her apartments. She did not conceal from herself that for 
 some time her relations with young men had been character- 
 ized by decided coquetry ; and she acknowledged, that, in the 
 case of Levin, she had involuntarily done her best to arouse 
 a feeling of love in him. But though it was evident that he 
 was greatly taken with her, and though as a woman she dis- 
 covered a subtle likeness, in spite of certain outward differ- 
 ences, between him and Vronsky, which doubtless caused 
 Kitty to feel the fascinations of both, 3'et, as she walked up 
 and down her room, she soon ceased to think of him. One 
 thought, and one only, possessed her : 
 
 " Why, since I have so evidently an attraction for others, 
 for this married man, who is in love with his wife, why 
 is lie so cold to me? Yet not exactly cold : he loves me, 
 I know ; but lately something has come between us. Why 
 has he spent the whole evening away? He told Stiva that 
 he could not leave Yashvin, but had to watch him while he 
 played. Is Yashvin a baby? It must be true: he never 
 tells lies. But there's something else back of it. He is 
 always glad to invent some excuse for attending to other 
 duties. I know this. I don't object to it. but what need 
 has he to assert it so? He wants to show that his love for 
 me must not interfere with his independence ! But the proof 
 is not necessary. I must have his love. He must under- 
 derstand the wretchedness of the life I lead. Why am I liv- 
 ing? I am not living, only dragging out life, in hope of 
 a turn in affairs, which never, never comes. And Stiva says 
 that he can't go to Aleksel Aleksandrovitch, and I can't 
 write again. Still no answer. I cannot do any thing. I 
 can't begin any thing, or make any changes, but only control 
 myself, wait, and invent amusements this English family, 
 my reading, my writing ; but it is all only to deceive myself, 
 like this morphine. He ought to be sony for me," she said ; 
 and tears of pity at her own lot filled her eyes. 
 
 A well-known bell rang ; and instantly Anna wiped her 
 eyes, put on an air of great calmness, and sat down near the 
 lamp with a book. She felt that she must show her dissatis- 
 faction because he did not return, but not to let her grief be
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 667 
 
 seen. Vronsky must not be allowed to pity her. She did 
 not want a contest. She blamed him because he wanted to 
 quarrel, but she herself involuntarily took the attitude of an 
 opponent. Vronsky came in with a bright, contented air, 
 approached her, and gayly asked her, 
 
 "A T w/ you weren't lonesome, were you? It's a terrible 
 passion, gambling." 
 
 " Ah, no ! I have given up being lonely. Stiva and Levin 
 have been here to see me." 
 
 " Da! I knew that they intended to come. Nul how do 
 you like Levin? " he asked, as he sat down near her. 
 
 "Very much. They have only just gone. How about 
 Yashviu ? " 
 
 " He had won seventeen thousand rubles. I led him 
 away, but he escaped from me, and went back again ; and 
 now he's losing." 
 
 " Then, why did you abandon him?" said Anna, suddenly 
 raising her eyes to his. The expression of Vrousky's face 
 was cold and unpleasant. " You told Stiva that you were 
 going to stay, to keep him from playing. Now you abandon 
 him ! " 
 
 " In the first place, I did not commission Stiva to say that ; 
 and, in the second place, I am not accustomed to tell lies ; 
 and chiefly, I staid because I wanted to," he answered an- 
 grily. "Anna, why do you do so?" added he, after a 
 moment's silence, holding out his hand to her, in the hope 
 that she would place hers in it. 
 
 She was glad of this appeal to her love, but some strange 
 spirit of evil kept her back. 
 
 " Of course you staid because you wanted to : you always 
 do as you please. But why tell me so? What is the good? " 
 answered she, growing more and more heated. 
 
 Vronsky drew back his hand, and his face became more 
 set than before. 
 
 " For you this is a matter of obstinacy," she cried, see- 
 ing the expression of his face. " For you the question is 
 to see whether you will win the victory over me. But the 
 question for me " and again the sense of her pitiable lot 
 came over her, and she almost sobbed. " If you knew what 
 it meant for me when I feel, as I do now, that you hate me, 
 yes, hate me ! If you knew what it meant for me ! If you 
 knew how near I am to ruin every moment ! how I fear 
 how I fear for myself," and she turned away to hide her 
 sobs.
 
 668 ANNA K ARE MX A. 
 
 " But what's all this for ? " said Vronsky, alarmed at this 
 despair, and leaning towards Anna to take her hand, and 
 kiss it. " Do I seek outside diversion? Don't I avoid the 
 society of women? " 
 
 ' As if that were all ! " said she. 
 
 " Na! Tell me what I must do to make you happy. I 
 am ready for any thing to spare you one pang," said he, 
 moved to see her so unhappy. 
 
 " It's nothing, nothing," she replied. " I myself don't 
 know. It's the loneliness: it's my nerves. Nu! Don't 
 let's talk about it an}- more. Tell me what happened at the 
 races. You haven't told me any thing about it," said she, 
 attempting to conceal the pride she felt at having made this 
 imperious man bow before her. 
 
 Vronsky asked for some supper, and as he was eating de- 
 scribed to her the incidents of the races ; but from the sound 
 of his voice, and from his glance that grew colder and colder, 
 Anna understood that she was to pay for the victory that 
 she had just gained, and that he would not pardon the words, 
 " I am near a terrible ruin, and I fear for myself." It was 
 a dangerous weapon, which she must not use again. She 
 felt that there was looming up between them a spirit of con- 
 flict, which she, no more than Vronsky, had power to control. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 SOME months before, Levin would have believed it im- 
 possible for him to go to sleep quietly after a day like that 
 he had just passed. But we get accustomed to every thing, 
 especially when we see others doing the same. So he slept 
 in peace, with no anxiety at his increased expenses, his 
 squandered time, his excesses at the club, his absurd inti- 
 macy with a man who had once been in love with Kitty, and, 
 more absurd still, his call upon a woman who, as it had to 
 be confessed, was not respectable, and, last and worse, the 
 mortification which he caused his wife. 
 
 At five o'clock the noise of a door opening awakened him 
 suddenly. Kitty was not there, and behind the curtain 
 which divided the chamber he saw a light and he heard her 
 steps. 
 
 " What's the matter? Kitty, what is it? 
 
 " Nothing," answered she, appearing with a candle in her
 
 AXNA KAR&N1NA. G69 
 
 hand, and smiling at him significantly. " I don't feel quite 
 well." 
 
 What! Is this the beginning? Must we send?" ex- 
 claimed he in alarm, looking for his clothes, to dress as 
 quickly as possible. 
 
 "No, no, it's nothing; ! did not feel quite well; it's all 
 right now," said she ; and she smiled, and pressed both his 
 hands. 
 
 Going back to bed, she put out the light, and lay down 
 again. Levin was so tired, that, in spite of the alarm which 
 he felt at seeing his wife appear with a light in her hand, he 
 fell asleep again at once. It was only afterwards that he 
 realized the calmness of her spirit, and appreciated all that 
 was passing in her dear, gentle heart as she lay thus motion- 
 less near him, awaiting the most solemn moment of a wo- 
 man's life. 
 
 About seven o'clock, Kitty, hesitating between the fear of 
 waking him and the wish to speak to him, at last touched his 
 shoulder, and gently shook him. 
 
 " Kostia, don't be afraid; it's nothing; but I think 
 Lizavyeta Petrovna had better be called." 
 
 The candle was again lighted. She was sitting on the 
 bed, holding the knitting that she had begun the da}' before. 
 
 " Dear, don't be alarmed. I'm not in the least afraid," 
 said she, seeing her husband's terrified face ; and she pressed 
 his hand to her heart and lips. 
 
 Levin leaped from bed, hurried on his dressing-gown, and 
 without taking his eyes off his wife for a moment. It was 
 necessary for him to go. but he could not tear himself away. 
 
 Her dear face, her look, her charming expression he loved 
 so well, appeared to him in a new light. As he stood before 
 her, how cruel and abominable seemed the mortification that 
 he had caused her that evening. Never had that sincere and 
 transparent soul been so unveiled to him, as he looked into 
 her face, kindled with a joyous courage. 
 
 Kitty looked at him, and smiled. But suddenly her eyes 
 closed, she lifted her head, took his hand, drew her hus- 
 band to her, and clung to him, sighing painfully. She suf- 
 fered, and he felt pity for her. At first, as he saw this silent 
 suffering, it seemed to him that he had caused it. A look, 
 full of tenderness from Kitty, told him that she loved him 
 all the more for her suffering. 
 
 " If not I, who, then, is to blame? " he thought. She suf-
 
 670 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 fered, and she seemed to take pride in her pain, and to re- 
 joice in it. He saw that she had a loftiness of soul which 
 he could not understand. It was above his powers. 
 
 " I have sent for mamma. Now go quick, and get Liza- 
 vyeto Petrovua Kostia it's nothing it is all over." 
 
 She let go of his hand. 
 
 " Nu, vot ! please go. Pasha is coming: I want nothing." 
 And, to his great astonishment, Levin saw her take up her 
 work again. As he went out of one door, Pasha, the maid, 
 came in at the other, and he heard her give directions for 
 arranging the room. Having dressed, and ordered his car- 
 nage, since it was too early for izvoshchiks, he found her 
 walking up and down, and talking to two maids. 
 
 " I'm going for the doctor right away. Lizavyeta Pe- 
 trovna has been sent for, but 1 will call there. There's 
 nothing more, is there? Oh. yes, Dolly ! " 
 
 She looked at him without hearing, and motioned him with 
 her hand. " Yes, yes, go," said she. And as he passed 
 through the parlor, he heard a groan which made his heart 
 stand still. 
 
 " It is she," he said to himself ; and putting his hands to 
 his head, he rushed out. 
 
 " Lord have mercy on us ! pardon us ! save us ! " he ex- 
 claimed ; and these words were not spoken merely by his 
 lips. Now he, the unbeliever, knowing no longer either 
 scepticism or doubt, called upon Him who held in II is power 
 his soul and his love. 
 
 The horse was not ready. In order not to lose time, mid 
 to find occupation for his strength and his attention, he 
 started off on foot, ordering Kuzma to follow him. At the 
 corner of the street he noticed a night izcoslichik coming 
 along as fast as its lean horse could trot. In the little 
 sledge sat Lizavyeta Petrovna, in a velvet cloak, with her 
 head wrapped up in a, plat ok. "Thank God!" [Shiva 
 Bohu~\, he murmured, as he saw with joy her pale and seri- 
 ous face. He ran up to the cab, and stopped it. 
 
 " Only two hours? not more? " asked Lizavyeta Petrovna. 
 " You may speak to Piotr Dmitritch, but don't hurry him. 
 Da ! please get some opium at the apothecary's." 
 
 "Do you think all will go on well?" asked he. "God 
 help us! " he added, as he saw his horse starting from the 
 door : he got into the sledge alongside of Kuzma, and hurried 
 off to the doctor's.
 
 ANNA KAIitiNlNA. 671 
 
 XIV. 
 
 THE doctor was not yet up ; and a servant, who was busy 
 cleaning the lamps, announced that his master had gone to 
 bed late, and had given orders not to be waked, but would 
 be up before long. Levin was at first perplexed, but finally 
 decided to go to the apothecary's, and to send Kuzma for 
 another doctor, so that, if, on his return, Piotr Dmitritch 
 was still asleep, there might be no failure in having some 
 doctor there. At the apothecary's the thin clerk refused him 
 the opium at first, with the same indifference as the doctor's 
 servant had shown in refusing to wake his master. Levin 
 tried not to get angry, and named the physician and the 
 midwife, and the person for whom it was wanted, and at 
 last he persuaded him. The clerk asked if he should send 
 it ; and then taking the vial and a tunnel, he poured the 
 laudanum from a larger vessel. But as he was ticketing, 
 wrapping, and tying it with exasperating care, Levin seized 
 it from his hands, and rushed out of the door. 
 
 The doctor was still asleep ; and, this time, the servant 
 was shaking the rugs. Levin, still resolved to keep cool, 
 pulled from his pocket-book a ten-ruble note, and, putting it 
 into the hand of the inflexible servant, assured him that 
 Piotr Dmitritch would not scold him, as he had promised to 
 come at any hour of the day or night. How important a 
 personage had this Piotr Dmitritch, ordinarily so insignifi- 
 cant, become in the eyes of Levin. 
 
 The servant, who was overcome by these arguments, ush- 
 ered Levin into the reception-room. He listened at the 
 door, and heard the doctor coughing, and answering that he 
 was going to get up. Three minutes passed ; the three min- 
 utes seemed more than as many hours : Levin was beside 
 himself, and knocked at the door of the chamber. "Piotr 
 Dmitritch, in the name of Heaven ! Piotr Dmitritch, ex- 
 cuse me ! it's more than two hours now ! " 
 
 " I'm coming ! I'm coming!" answered the doctor; and 
 by the sound of his voice, Levin knew that he was smiling. 
 
 Two minutes more went by, while the doctor was put- 
 ting on his boots, and another two minutes while he was 
 brushing his hair and putting on his coat. 
 
 '* These people have no hearts," thought Levin. " He 
 can brush his hair while we are dying."
 
 672 . ANNA KARtiNlNA. 
 
 " Piotr Dmitritch," he began to say again ; but at this in- 
 stant the doctor appeared all in readiness. 
 
 "Good-morning ! " said the doctor, entering the reception- 
 room serenely, and offering to shake hands. " Don't feel anx- 
 ious. Nu-s?" [meaning, " How is it? "]. 
 
 Levin began at once a long and circumstantial account, 
 filled with a crowd of useless details, and interrupted himself 
 at every moment to urge the doctor to set out. He fancied 
 the latter was joking when he proposed that they should first 
 have some coffee. 
 
 " I understand you," added the physician, smiling ; " but 
 you may be sure there's no hurry, and we husbands cut a 
 sorry figure in such cases. The husband of one of my pa- 
 tients always goes off to the stable." 
 
 " But do you think, Piotr Dmitritch, do you think she'll 
 get on well ? ' ' 
 
 " I have every reason to believe so." 
 
 " Won't you come right along? " said Levin, looking with 
 angry eyes at the servant who was bringing the coffee. 
 
 " In a few minutes." 
 
 " For Heaven's sake ! " 
 
 " Nu! let me take my coffee, and I'll come at once." 
 
 The doctor proceeded to take his breakfast. Both were 
 silent. 
 
 " It seems the Turks are beating. Did 3-011 read the tele- 
 gram last evening? " asked the doctor, calmly chewing on a 
 bulka [roll]. 
 
 " No ; but I'm going," said Levin. " Will you come in a 
 quarter of an hour? " 
 
 " Make it a half." 
 
 " On your honor? " 
 
 When Levin got home, he found the princess at the door. 
 She had tears in her eyes, and her hands "trembled. When 
 she saw Levin, she threw her arms round him, and kissed 
 him ; and they went to Kitty's room together. 
 
 Ever since Levin, on waking, had understood the situa- 
 tion, he had made up his mind to sustain his wife's courage, 
 to keep back his own feelings, and have entire control of 
 himself. When he went in after his visit to the doctor's, 
 and found Kitty still suffering, again he cried more and 
 more frequently, " Lord, forgive us, and be merciful! " and 
 he was afraid that he could not endure it, so terrible was it 
 to him : thus an hour went by.
 
 ANNA KAlif:.\I.\A. GT3 
 
 And after this another hour passed, and a second, and a 
 third, and more than five went by, with no change ; and 
 his terror grew with Kitty's suffering. Little by little the 
 ordinary conditions of life disappeared ; time ceased to exist ; 
 the minutes seemed to him hours, or the hours minutes. 
 When Lizavyeta Pctrovna asked for a light, he was sur- 
 prised to find that it was five o'clock in the evening. If 
 they had told him that it was ten o'clock in the morning, 
 he would not have been surprised. Where the time had 
 gone, what he had done, where he had been, he could not 
 have told. Sometimes he was with Kitty, and saw her, 
 now troubled and piteous, then calm and almost smiling, 
 trying to re-assure him. Then he was with the princess, 
 who was flushed with anxiety. Her gray curls were in 
 disorder, and she was biting her lips to keep from cry- 
 ing. He had also seen Dolly, the doctor smoking great 
 cigarettes, and Lizavyeta Petrovua with a serious but re- 
 assuring look, and the old prince pacing the dining-room 
 with a sad face. But how they came and went, and where 
 they had been, he could not tell. The princess had been 
 with the doctor in Kitty's room, then in the library, where 
 a well-set table had appeared, as by a miracle : then she 
 disappeared, and Dolly was in her place. Then Levin 
 knew that they sent him on an errand ; he moved divans 
 and tables cautiousl}', thinking it was for her sake ; and 
 he learned with indignation that they were preparing his 
 own bed for the night. They sent him to the library to ask 
 the doctor something : the doctor replied, and then began to 
 speak of the unpardonable disorders of the durna [council]. 
 Then they sent him to the princess, to get a holy image made 
 of silver, with a golden chasuble, from her bed-chamber ; 
 and, with the aid of an old chamber-maid of the princess's, 
 he unhooked it from the cabinet, and, in doing so, broke a 
 little lamp, and heard the old woman console him for this 
 accident, and encourage him about his wife. How had all 
 I his happened? He could not understand why the princess 
 took his hand in a compassionate way, and why Dolly, 
 with forced reasoning, tried to make him eat ; why the doc- 
 tor himself offered him some pills, looking at him gravely. 
 
 He felt himself to be in the same moral state as a year 
 ago, at the death-bed of Nikolai. That was grief, this was 
 happiness. But that grief and this happiness raised him 
 above the usual level of existence, to heights where he
 
 674 ANNA KAE&NINA. 
 
 caught sight of yet higher summits; and his soul cried to 
 God with the same simplicity, the same confidence, as in his 
 childhood. All this time, he seemed to be leading two sepa- 
 rate existences : one was at the foot of Kitty's bed ; the 
 other with the doctor smoking his big cigarette, and with 
 Dolly and the princess talking of indifferent things. 
 
 Whenever a groan from Kitty's room reached his ear, he 
 felt the same sensation of guiltiness which seized him when 
 first she woke him that morning ; and as he would hasten 
 toward her room, he would remember that he was not to 
 blame, and would long for protection and help. And as he 
 looked upon her, he would see that there was no help to 
 be given her; and again the pity would seize him, and he 
 would pray, "Lord, forgive and help us!" 
 
 XV. 
 
 THE candles had burned down to their sockets, and Levin 
 was listening to the doctor's discourse on the charlatanism 
 of magnetizers, when an unearthly cry stopped him. He 
 sat petrified, not daring to stir, looking at the doctor with 
 alarm. The doctor bent his head, as if to hear better, and 
 smiled with an air of approbation. Levin had reached the 
 point where nothing could surprise him ; and he said, in- 
 wardly, "Evidently, that must be so; but why that cry?" 
 He went back to the sick-room on tiptoe. Evidently, there 
 was some change. What, he did not know, and did not care 
 to know. But he saw it by the grave expression of Lizavyeta 
 Petrovna's pale face. Her eyes were closely fixed on Kitty. 
 The poor creature turned her head towards him. and sought 
 with her moist hand to take his and press it on her forehead. 
 
 " Don't go, don't go ! I am not afraid," said she quickly. 
 " Mamma, take away my earrings : they bother me. You 
 aren't afraid. Lizavyeta Petrovna, quick, quick!" 
 She spoke rapidly, and tried to smile ; but suddenly her face 
 grew convulsed, and she pushed him away. "This is ter- 
 rible ! I shall die, I shall die ! " Then came the same 
 unearthly cry. 
 
 Levin seized his head in his hands, and rushed from the 
 room. 
 
 " That is nothing : all is going well," whispered Dolly to 
 him.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 675 
 
 But say what they might, he knew now that all was lost. 
 He leaned against the lintel, and asked himself if it could be 
 Kitty uttering such shrieks. The child was as nothing to him : 
 now it seemed to him that he hated it. 
 
 "Doctor, what does that mean? My God!" he said, 
 seizing the doctor's arm as he went in. 
 
 "It is the end," replied the doctor; and his face was so 
 serious, as he said this, that Levin thought he meant that 
 Kitty was dead. 
 
 Not knowing what would become of him, he went back to 
 the bedroom, expecting to die with his wife. Suddenly the 
 cries ceased. He could not believe it, but he could not 
 doubt : and he heard a gentle rustling and a hasty breath- 
 ing, and his wife's voice, as she whispered, with an ineffable 
 expression of happiness, "It is over ! " 
 
 He raised his head: she looked at him, as she lay there, 
 beautiful with a supernatural beauty, and tried to smile at 
 him, one hand resting on the counterpane. 
 
 Coming suddenly out of that mysterious and terrible 
 world where he had been living for twenty-two hours, Levin 
 felt himself transported into a reality of luminous hap- 
 piness, and he could not bear it. The cords long tense 
 snapped. He burst into tears ; and the sobs of joy which he 
 could not foresee, shook his whole body so violently that he 
 could not speak. He knelt beside Kitty, and pressed his 
 lips ou her hand, and her gentle fingers answered his caress. 
 Meantime, at the foot of the bed, in the skilful hands of 
 Lizavyeta Petrovna, like the small, uncertain flame of a lamp, 
 flickered the life of a human being, which just before had 
 not been, and which with every right and every responsibility 
 would live, and hand its life down. 
 
 " He lives, he lives ! da! it is a boy ! Don't be worried," 
 Levin heard Lizavyeta's voice sa}-iug, while with a trembling 
 hand she slapped the little one's back. 
 
 And amid the silence was heard a voice, absolutely dif- 
 ferent from any that had ever spoken in the room. It 
 was the bold, decided, imperious, almost impertinent, voice 
 of the new human being, which had come whence no one 
 knew. 
 
 Just before. Levin would unhesitatingly have believed, if 
 he had been told that Kitty was dead, that he himself with 
 her was dead, and that their children were angels, and that 
 they were all in the presence of God. And now that he had
 
 076 S-NNA KARXINA. 
 
 come back to reality, it took a prodigious effort to admit 
 that his wife was alive, that she was doing well, and that he 
 had a son. Kitty was saved, her suffering was passed, and 
 he was inexpressibly happy. That he could understand ; 
 but the child ! Whence ? Why ? What was it ? He could 
 not wont himself to the thought of it. It seemed to him 
 somehow too much, too overwhelming ; and it was long be- 
 fore he became accustomed to it. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 THE old prince, Sergei Ivanovitch, and Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch met at Levin's the next morning, about ten o'clock, to 
 learn news of Kitty. 
 
 It seemed to Levin that he was separated from yesterday 
 by a hundred years. He heard the others talk, and tried to 
 descend to their level from the heights which he had scaled, 
 that he might not offeud them. While talking about indif- 
 ferent things, he was thinking of his wife, of the state of 
 her health, and of his son, to the idea of whose existence he 
 was trying to accustom himself. A wife's part in life had 
 been new and incomprehensible to him, even after his mar- 
 riage ; but now the place she occupied was so lofty, that he 
 could not begin to realize it. He heard the men talking 
 about the club ; but he was thinking, " What is she doing 
 now? Is she asleep? How is she? What is in her mind? 
 Is the son Dmitri crying? " And in the midst of the conver- 
 sation, in the midst of a sentence, he stopped, and left the 
 room. 
 
 " Find out if I can see her," said the old prince. 
 
 " Very good right away," replied Levin, as he started 
 for her room. 
 
 She was not asleep, but was softly talking with her mother, 
 making plans about the christening. 
 
 She lay comfortably arranged in bed, with her hands rest- 
 ing on the counterpane, and a peasant's tcheptchik [rnob- 
 cap], with blue ribbons, on her head. Her face lighted up 
 more and more brightly as he approached her. It had the 
 superhuman calm which one sees in death, but instead of a 
 farewell, she welcomed him to a new life. An emotion, like 
 that which he had felt again and again during her agony, 
 seized his heart. She took his hand, and asked him if he 
 had slept.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. GT7 
 
 He could not answer, but turned his head away, distrusting 
 his self-control. 
 
 " I have had a nap, Kostia," she said; "and I feel so 
 well now." She looked at him, and suddenly the expression 
 of her face changed. She heard her baby cry. 
 
 " Give him to me, Lizavyeta Petrovua, and let me show 
 him to his father," she said. 
 
 " Nu, vat! Let papa look," said the nurse, taking up 
 and showing a strange, red, uncertain something. %i Wait, 
 we must dress it first," said Lizavyeta Petrovua, as she 
 swathed the child, at the foot of the bed. 
 
 Levin, as he looked at the poor little bit of humanity, tried 
 in vain to discover some paternal sentiments within his soul. 
 The only feeling was one of repulsion ; but when they took 
 off its things, and he saw its little, delicate arms and legs, 
 still saffron-colored, and when he saw the nurse handling its 
 little, waving arms, and putting them into linen garments, 
 such pity seized him, and such terror, lest she should hurt it, 
 that he made a gesture to stop her. 
 
 Lizavyeta Petrovna laughed. "Never fear, never fear," 
 she said. 
 
 When the child was dressed, and metamorphosed into a 
 regular doll, Lizavyeta Petrovna tossed him up and down, as 
 though proud of her work, and held him off so that Levin 
 might see his son in all his glory. 
 
 Kitty, not taking her eyes from him, was alarmed. "Give 
 him to me, give him to me," she cried ; and she lifted herself 
 up. 
 
 " You must know that such motions are necessary. Be 
 patient : I will give him to 3*011. But we must let pupasha 
 see what a fine young man we are." 
 
 And Lizavyeta Petrovna handed to Levin with one hand 
 the other supported the limp occiput this weak, red 
 creature, whose head fell limply on its swaddling-clothes. 
 All that was to be seen of it was a nose, a pair of unsteady 
 eyes, and smacking lips. 
 
 " A splendid baby," said Lizavyeta Petrovna. 
 
 Levin drew a deep breath of mortification. This splendid 
 baby [ prekrasnut reby6nok~\ inspired him only with a feeling 
 of pity and disgust. It was not at all the feeling that he 
 expected. He turned away while the nurse placed it in 
 Kitty's arms. Suddenty Kitty laughed : the baby had taken 
 the breast.
 
 678 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 "Nu! that's enough, that's enough," said Lizavjeta 
 Petrovna ; but Kitty would not let go of her son, who had 
 gone to sleep close to her. 
 
 k ' Look at him now," said she, turning the child towards 
 his father. The little face suddenly took on an older expres- 
 sion, and the child sneezed. 
 
 Levin felt ready to cry with tenderness : he kissed his wife, 
 and left the room. 
 
 How different were the feelings which this little being 
 awakened in him from what he had expected ! There was 
 neither pride nor joy in the feeling, but rather a new and 
 painful fear. His fear at first was so acute lest this poor, 
 defenceless creature might suffer, that it drowned the strange 
 feeling of thoughtless joy, and even pride, that rose in his 
 heart when the infant sneezed. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE affairs of Stepan Arkadyevitch had reached a critical 
 stage. 
 
 He had spent the money brought by the sale of two-thirds 
 of the timber, and the merchant would not advance any 
 thing more ; as Dolly, for the first time in her life asserting 
 her rights to her personal property, had refused her signature 
 to the contract when it \vas proposed to give a receipt for 
 the sale of the last third of the wood. All the salary was 
 used up for household expenses, and for the payment of un- 
 avoidable debts. There was absolutely no money to be had. 
 
 It was disagreeable and awkward, and Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch felt that it ought not to be continued. The reason of 
 it, in his opinion, lay in the fact that he got too small a 
 salary. The place which he held had been very good five 
 years before, but it was so no longer. Petrof , the director 
 of a bank, got twelve thousand rubles ; Sventitsky, a mem- 
 ber of the Council, got seventeen thousand ; Mitin, the head 
 of a bank, got fifty thousand. 
 
 "Apparently I have been asleep, and they have forgotten 
 me," said Stepan Arkadyevitch to himself; and he began to 
 be obsequious, and to look around ; and at the end of the 
 winter he discovered a very good place, and matured his 
 attack upon it, beginning at Moscow through his uncles, his 
 aunts, and his friends, and then, when success seemed as-
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 679 
 
 sured, he himself went down to Petersburg. It was one of 
 those places which nowadays are found varying in impor- 
 tance, worth anywhere from one to fifty thousand rubles a 
 year. This place was in the Commission of the Consolidated 
 Agency for the Credit-Balance of the Southern Railroad and 
 the Banking Establishments. This place, like many others, 
 required at once such varied talents and such extraordinary 
 activity, that it is hard to find them united in one person : in- 
 deed, it was hopeless to find anybody with all these qualities, 
 and therefore it is better to put in an honest man. Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch, according to Muscovite society, was an honest 
 man in every sense of the term ; for in Moscow the word 
 meaning honesty has two forms, depending on its accent. 
 They speak of an honest agent, an honest writer, an honest 
 journal, an honest institution ; and it means not only that 
 men or institutions are not dishonest, but that they know how 
 to adapt themselves to circumstances. Stepau Arkadyevitch 
 belonged in Moscow to that class of people who used that 
 convenient word ; and, as he passed for honest, he therefore 
 felt that he had a better right than any one else to that place. 
 
 This place was worth from seven to ten thousand rubles a 
 year ; and Oblonsky could accept this position, and not resign 
 his present duties. Every thing depended upon two minis- 
 ters, a lady, and two Jews ; and, although they were ready 
 to grant what he wished, he had to go to Petersburg to solicit 
 their aid. After faithfully promising Anna that he would 
 see Kare'nin about the divorce, he extorted fifty rubles from 
 Dolly, and set out for Petersburg. 
 
 Kare'uin received him in his library ; bnt he was obliged 
 to listen for some moments to the exposition of a project 
 for reforming the status of Russian finance before he could 
 put in a word about his personal affairs and about Anna. 
 
 "Da/ That is very true," said he, when Aleksei Aleksan- 
 drovitch took off the pince-nez [eye-glasses], without which 
 he could not read now, and looked inquiringly at his brother- 
 in-law ; " that is very true in detail ; but, accurately speak- 
 ing, is not liberty the leading principle of the age? " 
 
 "Yes, but the new principle which I advocate embraces 
 that of liberty," replied Alekse'i Aleksandrovitch, accenting 
 the word " embraces," putting on his pince-nez to read over 
 the passage where he had said that very thing ; and turning 
 over the pages of his elegantly written manuscript, he read 
 the conclusive paragraph :
 
 680 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 " ' For if I sustain the protectionist system, it is not for 
 the advantage of the few, but for the good of all classes, 
 both low and high ; ' and it is that which they will not under- 
 stand," added he, looking over his pince-nez at Oblonsk}', 
 " absorbed as they are in their personal interests, and so 
 easily satisfied with hollow phrases." 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch knew that when Karenin began to 
 speak of what was said and done by those who were opposed 
 to his views, he was nearing the end ; and he did not try to 
 escape "the principle of liberty," but waited until Aleksei 
 Aleksandrovitch came to a pause, and turned over the leaves 
 of his manuscript with a thoughtful air. 
 
 " Ach! By the way," said Oblonsky, after a moment's 
 silence, "I shall beg of you, in case you should meet Po- 
 rnorsky, to say a word to him for me. I want to be appointed 
 member of the Commission of the Combined Agencies of the 
 Credit-Balance of the Railroads of the South." Stepau 
 Arkadyevitch could mention with great rapidity the name of 
 the position to which he aspired. He knew it by heart. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch asked what the functions of this 
 new commission were to be, and then he reflected. It seemed 
 to him that the existence of this commission was directly 
 opposed to his projects of reform. But as the operations 
 of this commission were very complicated, and his own 
 projects of reform occupied a very vast field, he felt that he 
 could not settle this question at a glance. 
 
 "Of course I could speak to him, but why are you so very 
 anxious for this place?" 
 
 "The salary is good, nine thousand rubles, and my 
 means " 
 
 "Nine thousand rubles!" repeated Aleksei Aleksandro- 
 vitch, and he frowned. The high emolument of this position 
 reminded him that Stepan Arkadyevitch's supposititious func- 
 tion was directly opposed to the principal feature of his pro- 
 ject, that which bore upon economy. 
 
 " I believe, and I show in my pamphlet, that in our day 
 these enormous salaries are signs of the defectiveness of our 
 economic assiette [position] of our administration." 
 
 "Da! What do you want ?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch. 
 " Nu! Let us see. A bank-director gets ten thousand ru- 
 bles, he is worth it ; or an engineer gets twenty thousand. 
 These are not sinecures." 
 
 " In my opinion, salaries ought to be regarded as payments
 
 ANNA K AE NINA. 681 
 
 for merchandise, and consequently ought to be subject to the 
 same law of supply atid demand. If salaries are not sub- 
 ject to this law, if, for example, I see two engineers of 
 equal capacity, having pursued the same studies, one receiv- 
 ing forty thousand rubles, while the other contents himself 
 with two thousand ; or if I see a hussar, who has no special 
 knowledge, become director of a bank with a phenomenal 
 salary, I conclude that there is an economic vice which has 
 a disastrous influence on the civil service." 
 
 " You will acknowledge, however, that it is essential to fill 
 these posts with honest men," interrupted Stepan Arkady e- 
 vitch, emphasizing the adjective. 
 
 But the Muscovite signification of the adjective had no 
 force for Aleksei Aleksandrovitch. " Honesty is only nega- 
 tive merit," he replied. 
 
 " But you will do me a great favor to speak a little word 
 to Pomorsky." 
 
 " Da ! certainly ; but it seems to me that Bolgarinof would 
 be more influential." 
 
 " Bolgarinof is well disposed," Oblonsky hastened to say ; 
 and he blushed as he thought uneasily of the visit which he 
 had made that very morning to this Jew. To think that he, 
 Prince Oblonsky, a descendant of Rurik, after waiting two 
 hours in the ante-room, had been received with obsequious 
 politeness by this Bolgarinof, who had ill-concealed his 
 triumph at having a prince among his other solicitors. 
 
 He had almost been exposed to a refusal, but he had made 
 a terrible pun on the word Jew, how he had to cheiv the cud 
 of expectation ; * and though he had forgotten for a time 
 the unpleasantness of the situation, it suddenly came back to 
 him, and filled him with shame. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " Now, I have yet one more thing to talk over with you ; 
 and you know what it is about, Anna," said Stepan Arkad- 
 yevitch, shutting out disagreeable memories. 
 
 When Oblonsky spoke Anna's name, Kare"nin's face sud- 
 denly changed, and took on an expression of corpse-like 
 rigidity in place of its former vivacity. 
 
 1 " Builo dyelo do-Zhida i ya dozhida-\e."
 
 682 ANNA KAE&NINA. 
 
 "What more do you want of me?" said he, turning 
 about on his arm-chair, and shutting his pince-nez. 
 
 "A decision some sort of a decision, Aleksei Aleksan- 
 drovitch. I address you, not as" he was going to say 
 ' a deceived husband," but stopped, and substituted with 
 little appropriateness, " not as a statesman, but simply as a 
 man, and a good man, and a Christian. You ought to have 
 pity on her." 
 
 " In what way could I properly ?" asked Kareniu quietly. 
 
 " Yes, have pity upon her. If you saw her as I do, I 
 have seen her all winter, you would pity her. Her position 
 is cruel." 
 
 "I thought," said Kardnin suddenly, in a piercing, 
 almost whining voice, " that Anna Arkadyevna had obtained 
 all that she wished." 
 
 " Ach! Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, for God's sake, don't 
 make recriminations. What is past is past ; and you know 
 what she is now waiting for and hoping for is the divorce." 
 
 " But I understood, that in case I kept my son, Anna 
 Arkadyevna refused the divorce ; and so my silence was 
 equivalent to a reply, and I thought the question settled. I 
 consider it settled," said he, with more and more warmth. 
 
 " For God's sake, don't get angry," said Stepan Arkactye- 
 vitch, touching his brother-in-law's knee. "This is not 
 settled. If you will allow me to recapitulate, the affair 
 stands thus : When you separated, you were as magnanimous 
 as was possible to be. You granted her every thing her 
 freedom, even a divorce if she wanted one. She appreciated 
 it. No, you don't think it ; but she appreciated it absolutely, 
 to such a degree, that, at first, feeling her guilt towards 
 you, she could not reason about it at all. She refused every 
 thing. But the reality and time have shown her that her 
 position is painful and intolerable." 
 
 " Anna Arkadyevna's life cannot interest me," said Ka- 
 r^nin, raising his eyebrows. 
 
 " Permit me to disbelieve that," replied Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch gently. " Her position is painful to her, and without 
 any escape whatsoever. She deserves it, you say. She ac- 
 knowledges that, and does not complain. She says up and 
 down that she should never dare to ask any thing of you. 
 But I, and all of her relatives, all who love her, beg and 
 implore you to have pity on her. Why should she suffer? 
 W T hose advantage is it? "
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 683 
 
 " Excuse me : you seem to accuse me of being the cause 
 of her sufferings." 
 
 " Da! not at all, not at all, understand me," said Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch, touching Kar&nin'a arm, as if he believed 
 that personal contact would have a mollifying effect on his 
 brother-in-law. " I merely say this. Her position is painful ; 
 and you can relieve it, and it will not cost you any thing. 
 Then, too, you have promised. Let me arrange the matter : 
 you shall have no trouble about it." 
 
 My consent has been already given ; and I had supposed 
 that Anna Arkadyevua would in her turn have the generosity 
 to understand" Karenin's trembling lips could hardly 
 utter the words. 
 
 "She leaves all to your generosity. She asks, she im- 
 plores for only one thing to be relieved from this unendur- 
 able position in which she has placed herself. She asks for 
 her son. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, you are a good man. 
 Just enter for a moment into her feelings. The question of 
 the divorce is for her a matter of life or death. If you had 
 not given your promise, she would have been resigned, 
 and lived in the country. But you did give your promise ; 
 and she wrote you, and came to Moscow. And there in 
 Moscow, where every familiar face was a knife in her heart, 
 she has been living for six months, every day expecting an 
 answer. Her situation is that of a condemned criminal, 
 who- for mou*ths has had the rope around his neck, and does 
 not know whether he is to expect pardon or execution. 
 Pity her; and, besides, I will take care to arrange all 
 vos scrupules." 
 
 "lam not speaking of that," said Aleksei Aleksandro- 
 vitch, with some disgust; "but I have perhaps promised 
 more than I have the right to promise." 
 
 " Then, you refuse to do what you have promised? " 
 
 " I never refused to do all that I could ; but I must have 
 time to consider." k 
 
 " Xo, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch," said Oblonsky, leaping 
 to his feet, " I do not wish to believe this. She is as un- 
 happy as it is possible for a woman to be ; and you cannot 
 refuse such " 
 
 " Vous professez d'etre nn libre pense.ur [you profess to be 
 a freethinker] ; but I, as a believer, cannot defy the law of 
 Christianity in a matter so important." 
 
 "But in Christian communities, and here in Russia, di-
 
 684 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 vorce is permitted," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "Divorce 
 is permitted by our Church." 
 
 " Allowed, but not in this acceptation." 
 
 " Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, I don't know you," said Ob- 
 lonsky, after a moment's silence. " You are not the same 
 man you were. Did you not forgive all? and weren't we 
 grateful to 3-011, and moved by genuine Christian feeling? 
 Weren't you ready to sacrifice every thing? You yourself 
 said, ' If any man will take away thy coat, let him have thy 
 cloak also.' And now " 
 
 " I beg of you," said Kare'nin, rising suddenly, and 
 trembling from head to foot, " I beg of you to cut short, 
 to cut short this interview ! " 
 
 " Ach, mi! Pardon me, pardon me, if I have offended 
 you ! " said Stepan Arkadyevitch, in confusion, holding out 
 his hand ; ' ' but I had to fulfil the mission I was charged 
 with." 
 
 Kare'nin put his hand in that of Stepan Arkadyevitch, and 
 said, after a moment's reflection, 
 
 " I must have time to think about it, and seek for light. 
 You shall have my final answer day after to-morrow." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 STEPAN ARKADYEVITCII was going out when Kornei' came 
 in, and announced, ' Serg6i Alekseye'vitch." 
 
 " Who is Sergei Alekseye'vitch?" Oblonsky began to ask, 
 for a moment not remembering. 
 
 " Ach, Serozha ! " he exclaimed ; " and here was I, think- 
 ing it was some director of a department," he said to him- 
 self. " Anna begged me to see him." 
 
 And he recalled the sad, timid way in which Anna had 
 said to him, " You will see him, and can find out what he is 
 doing, and where he is, and who is taking care of him. And. 
 Stiva, if possible! Would it be possible . . . ?" 
 
 He knew what she meant by the words, "if possible." 
 She began to say, if it were possible to get the divorce, 
 could she also have the child. But now Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch knew that this was out of the question. He was none 
 the less glad to see the boy again, though Kare'nin hastened 
 to warn him not to talk to him of his mother. 
 
 " He was very ill after that interview with his mother,
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 685 
 
 which we were not prepared for, and for a while we feared 
 for his life. Now that he is better, and much strengthened 
 by sea-bathing, I have followed the doctor's advice, and 
 sent him to school. Activity, being with companions of his 
 own age, have a happy influence on him : his health is good, 
 and he is studying well." 
 
 "Why, he is no longer Serozha : he is full-grown Sergei 
 Alekseyevitch," said Stepan Arkadyevilch with a smile, as a 
 handsome, tall, robust boy, dressed in a kurtotchka [jacket] 
 and long pantaloons, came in. He bowed to his uncle as to 
 a stranger. Then, as he remembered him, he reddened, 
 turned away angrily, and held out his school-notes to his 
 father. 
 
 " Nu! that is excellent," said Karenin : "you can go and 
 play." 
 
 He has grown tall and slender, and lost his childish look : 
 I like it," remarked Stepan Arkadyevitch, with a smile. 
 
 " Da! you remember me? " 
 
 The boy quickly glanced at his father. 
 
 " I remember you, raou oncfe," answered the boy, casting 
 down his eyes. 
 
 The uncle called the malchik to him, and took his hand. 
 " Xn! how are you?" he asked, wanting to talk, but not 
 knowing what to say. 
 
 The boy, blushing, and not answering, withdrew his hand, 
 and as soon as he could flew away like a bird. 
 
 A year had passed since Serozha had seen his mother. 
 During this time, his remembrance of her had been growing 
 gradually fainter ; and the life he led, surrounded, as he was, 
 by boys of his own age, contributed to this. He even tried 
 to get rid of these remembrances, as being unworthy of a 
 man ; and, as no one spoke to him of his mother, he con- 
 cluded that his parents had quarrelled, and that he must 
 accustom himself to the idea of remaining with his father. 
 The sight of his uncle, who looked like his mother, was 
 unpleasant to him, because it awakened memories which 
 caused him shame ; and it was still more unpleasant, be- 
 cause, from certain words which he had caught as he entered 
 the door, and b} T the peculiar expression of his father's and 
 his uncle's face, he knew that they were talking about his 
 mother. And in order not to blame his father, and espe- 
 cially not to think of the past, he wanted to get out of his 
 uncle's way.
 
 686 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch, shortly after, as he went out, found 
 the boy playing on the stairs, and asked him how he was 
 getting along in his classes at school. Serozha, out of his 
 father's presence, talked freely. 
 
 " I have a railroad now," he said, in answer to one of his 
 questions. " Just see ! These two are sitting on the seat; 
 they are passengers ; and there is one man trying to stand on 
 the seat ; and they are all going, and the doors open in front. 
 Nu! and here it's very hard for the conductor." 
 
 " Is that the one standing? " asked Stepau Arkadyevitch, 
 amused. 
 
 " Yes. He has to be bold and skilful, because the train 
 comes to a stop very sudden, and he might get thrown over." 
 
 " Da! this is no joke," said Stepan Arkadyevitch sadly, 
 as he looked at the boy's bright eyes, which were like his 
 mother's, and which had already lost their childish look of 
 innocence. And although he had promised Aleksei Aleksan- 
 drovitch not to speak of Anna, he could not resist. 
 
 " Do you remember your mother? " he asked suddenly. 
 
 " No," answered the child quickly, turning red; and his 
 uncle could not make him talk any more. 
 
 When the Russian tutor found Serozha on the stairs, half 
 an hour after, he could not make out whether he was cry- 
 ing or was sulky. 
 
 " Did you hurt yourself when you fell? " he asked. " I 
 said this was a dangerous game, and I shall have to tell your 
 father." 
 
 "If I had, no one should find it out," answered the 
 boy. 
 
 " Nu! what's the matter, then? " 
 
 " Let me alone ! What is it to him whether I remember 
 or not? " and the boy seemed to defy not only his tutor, but 
 the whole world. 
 
 STEPAN ARKADTEVITCH, as usual, did not devote his time 
 exclusively to business at Petersburg. He came, he said, to 
 refresh himself after musty Moscow. For Moscow, in spite 
 of its cafes-chantants, and its omnibuses, was still only a 
 sort of marsh, in which one became morally bogged. The 
 result of too long a compulsory stay in that stagnant pool 
 was enfeebling to body and mind. Oblonsky himself became
 
 ANNA KARNINA. 687 
 
 bittor, quarrelled with his wife, was pre-occupied with his 
 health, the education of his children, and the petty details of 
 the household. He even went so far as to worry about his 
 debts. As soon as he set foot in Petersburg, and entered 
 that circle where life was really life, and not vegetating, as 
 in Moscow, immediately all such thoughts disappeared like 
 wax in the fire. His wife He had just been talking 
 with Prince Tchetchensky. Prince Tchetchensky had a wife 
 and family, grown-up children ; and he had another estab- 
 lishment, outside the law, and in this also there were children. 
 But though the first family was well enough in its way, 
 Prince Tchetchensky felt happier with his second family ; 
 and he told Stepan Arkadyevitch that he had introduced 
 his oldest legitimate son into his other family, to train him 
 and develop him. What would have been said about that 
 in Moscow? Children? In Petersburg, fathers didn't trou- 
 ble themselves with their children, after the fashion of Lvof. 
 Children went to day-school or boarding-school, and they 
 were not taken out of their proper places by having a promi- 
 nent position given them in the family. The government 
 service? The service, too, was not that tiresome, hopeless 
 tread-mill that it was in Moscow. Here there was interest 
 in the service. A man could make friends, get patronage, 
 and suddenly find himself high in his career, like Brianzef, 
 whom Stepan Arkadyevitch met that evening, and who was 
 now first dignitary. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch had met also one of his friends, 
 Bartnynansky, who now spent fifteen thousand rubles, and 
 whose influence was rapidly increasing. Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch was talking with him, and said, 
 
 You seem to have some connection with Mordviusky. 
 You might say a little word to him in my behalf. It is a 
 place which I should like to have, member of the commis- 
 sion ' ' 
 
 " Nu! I won't forget, only what pleasure can you have in 
 attending to this railroad business with the Jews? That's 
 always a wretched business." 
 
 I need money : I must have something to live on." 
 
 But don't you live, then?" 
 
 Yes, but in debt." 
 
 Much?" asked Bartnyansky sympathetically. 
 
 Yes : twenty thousand rubles." 
 
 Bartnyansky broke out into a gay laugh.
 
 688 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 
 
 "Happy mortal! I have a million and a half of debts, 
 and not a ruble ; and, as } 7 ou see, I live all the same." 
 
 And Stepan Arkadyevitch saw that this was not mere 
 words, but was actually true ; and he found many others in 
 the same condition. Zhevakhof had three hundred thousand 
 rubles of debts, and not a kopek. Petrovsky had spent five 
 millions, and yet had only twenty thousand salary. 
 
 Petersburg had a delightful physical influence on Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch. It made him feel younger. lie felt as if 
 ten years had been given to him. He experienced there the 
 same feeling as his uncle, Prince Peter, did abroad. 
 
 " We don't know how to live here," said this young man 
 of sixty to him the evening before. " For example : I spent 
 the summer at Baden, and I feel like a new man. I enjoy 
 my dinner, the women interest me : I'm well and vigorous. 
 When I come back to Russia, I have to see my wife, have 
 even to go into the country : I fall flat. I don't get out of 
 my dressing-gown. Good-by to the young beauties : I am 
 old, think of my health. To make me over, I go to Paris." 
 
 The relations between Stepan Arkadyevitch and Betsy 
 Tverskaia had been strange for a long time. He always 
 jested with her, and he always said very improper things by 
 way of jest, knowing that they pleased her more than any 
 tiling else. The day after his interview with Kar6nin, Stepau 
 Arkadyevitch went to see her ; but to-day, though, under the 
 influence of Petersburg air, he conducted himself with more 
 than his usual levity ; he felt that she was not only dis- 
 pleased, but was even opposed to him ; and he was glad to 
 have the Princess Miagkai'a interrupt a call which was begin- 
 ning to bore him. 
 
 "Ah, here you are! " said the stout princess, when she 
 saw him. ' "JVW And how is your poor sister? Do not 
 look at me so. Since women who are a thousand times worse 
 than she throw stones at her, I think she did quite right. 
 I can't forgive Vrousky for not letting me know that she was 
 in Petersburg. I should have gone to see her, and gone with 
 her everywhere. Give her my love. Nu ! tell me about her." 
 
 " Da ! Her position is a very painful one," Stepan Ar- 
 kadyevitch began ; but the princess, who was following out 
 her idea, interrupted him: "She did what everybody but 
 myself does and hides. But she was not willing to lie, and 
 she did right ; and she has at least bettered herself in having 
 forsaken that imbecile, I beg your pardon, your brother-
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 689 
 
 in-law. Everybody said he was a genius. A genius ! I was 
 the only one who said he was a goose ; and people have come 
 to be of my opinion, now that he has taken up with the 
 Countess Lidia and Landau. I should like not to agree with 
 everybody, it's stupid ; but this time I can't help it." 
 
 " Perhaps you can explain an enigma. Yesterday, talking 
 of the divorce, my brother-in-law said to me that he could 
 not give me an answer without reflection ; and this morn- 
 ing I received an invitation from Lidia Ivanovna for this 
 evening." 
 
 "Nu! That's just it!" cried the princess, delighted. 
 " They will consult Landau." 
 
 " Why, who is Landau? " 
 
 " What ! you don't know Jules Landau, le fameux Jules 
 Landau, le clairvoyant? That's what comes of living in the 
 provinces. Landau, you must know, was commfs [agent] 
 of a mercantile house at Paris. He went one day to see a 
 doctor, fell asleep in the waiting-room, and, while he was 
 asleep, gave advice to all the sick, most astonishing advice. 
 Then the wife of Yuri Melyedinsky you know he was sick 
 called him to see her husband. He treated her husband. 
 In my opinion, he didn't do him any good, for Melyedinsky 
 is just as sick as he was before ; but his wife and he believe 
 in Landau. The}* took him into their house, and they brought 
 him to Russia. Naturally, people here have thrown them- 
 selves at him. He treats everybody. He cured the Countess 
 Bezzubof ; and she fell so in love with him, that she has 
 adopted him." 
 
 " How ! adopted him? " 
 
 "Yes, I mean adopted. He isn't Landau any more, but 
 Count Bezzubof. But Lidia and I like her very much, in 
 spite of her crankiness must needs be smitten with him ; 
 and nothing that she and Aleksel Aleksandrovitch take up 
 is decided without consulting him. Your sister's fate is, 
 therefore, in the hands of Landau alias Count Bezzubof." 
 
 XXI. 
 
 AFTER an excellent dinner with Bartnyansky, followed by 
 several glasses of brandy, Stepan Arkadyevitch went to the 
 Countess Lidia Ivanovna's, a little later than the hour desig- 
 nated.
 
 690 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 " Who is with the countess? the Frenchman?" he askod 
 of the Swiss, as he noticed beside Aleksei Aleksandrovitch's 
 well-known overcoat, a curious mantle with clasps. 
 
 "Aleksei Aleksandrovitch Karenm and the Count Bezzu- 
 bof," answered the servant stolidly. 
 
 ''Princess Miagkai'a was right," thought Oblonsky, as he 
 went up-stairs. " Strange ! it would be a good thing to cul- 
 tivate the countess. She has great influence. If she would 
 say a little word in my behalf to Pomorsky, it would be just 
 the thing." It was still very light in the dvor [court], but 
 the blinds were drawn in the Countess Lidia Ivanovna's little 
 parlor, and the lamps were lighted. 
 
 At a round table, on which was a lamp, the countess and 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch were sitting, engaged in a confiden- 
 tial talk. A lean, pale man. with thin legs and a feminine 
 figure, with long hair falling over his coat-collar, and hand- 
 some, glowing eyes, was examining the portraits at the other 
 end of the room. Stepan Arkadyevitch, after having greeted 
 the khozya'ika and Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, involuntarily 
 turned round to look once more at this singular personage. 
 
 " Monsieur Landau," said the countess gently, and with 
 a precaution which struck Oblonsky. The introduction was 
 made. 
 
 Landau at once approached, placed his moist hand in Ob- 
 lonsky's, and immediately went back to look at the portraits. 
 Lidia Ivanovna and Aleksei Aleksandrovitch exchanged sig- 
 nificant glances. 
 
 " I am very glad to see you to-day," said the countess to 
 Oblonsky, motioning him to a chair. " You noticed," added 
 she, in a low voice, "that I introduced him to you by the 
 name of Landau ; but his name is really Count Bezzubof , as 
 you probably know. Only he is not fond of the title." 
 
 " Da! I heard that he had cured the Countess Bezzubof." 
 
 "Yes : she came to see me to-day," said the countess, ad- 
 dressing Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, " and it was sad to see 
 her. This separation is terrible for her. It is such a blow 
 to her." 
 
 " Then he is positively going? " 
 
 "Yes; he is going to Paris; he has heard a voice," said 
 Lidia Ivanovna, looking at Oblonsky. 
 
 " AcJiI A voice? really now?" repeated he, feeling that 
 it was necessary to use great prudence among these people 
 where such strange things occurred.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 691 
 
 " I have known you for a long time," said the countess to 
 Oblonsky after a moment's silence. " Les amis de nos amis 
 sont nos amis. [Our friends' friends are our friends.] But 
 to be truly friends, we must know what is passing in the soul 
 of those we love ; and I fear you are not thus en rapport with 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch. You understand what I mean?" 
 said she, raising her beautiful, dreamy e3 - es to Stepan Ar- 
 kady evitch. 
 
 " I understand in part that the position of Aleksei Alek- 
 sandrovitch " answered Oblonsky, not understanding in 
 the least, and preferring to confine himself to generalities. 
 
 "Oh! I am not talking of external changes," said the 
 countess solemnly, and at the same time looking tenderly at 
 Aleksi Aleksandrovitch, who had risen to join Landau : 
 it is his heart which has changed, he needs a new heart ; 
 and I very much fear that you do not realize sufficiently 
 the great transformation which has taken place in him." 
 
 " That is, in a general way, I can perceive the change in 
 him. We have always been friends, and now " said Ob- 
 lonsky, answering the deep gaze of the countess with a ten- 
 der one, as he thought with which of the two ministers she 
 could do him the most effective service. 
 
 " This transformation cannot work harm to one's love 
 for his neighbor : on the contrary, it elevates it, it purifies 
 it. But I'm afraid you don't understand me. Will you 
 not have some tea? " 
 
 " Not altogether, countess : of course, his misfortune " 
 
 "Yes, one's misfortunes become the source of his happi- 
 ness, when the heart is renewedy is filled with Him," said 
 she, raising her eyes lovingly to Stepan Arkadyevitch. 
 
 " I believe I shall have to get her to speak, to them both," 
 thought Oblonsky. " Oh ! assuredly, countess ; but I think 
 that these changes are so personal [intimui~\ that no one 
 likes to speak of them, even to his most intimate friends." 
 
 " On the contrary, we ought to speak, and to help one 
 another." 
 
 "Yes, without doubt; but there are such differences of 
 conviction; and, moreover" and Oblonsky smiled unc- 
 tuously. 
 
 " There cannot be differences in regard to sacred truth." 
 
 " It seems to me that he's going to sleep," said Aleksi 
 Aleksandrovitch, approaching the countess, and speaking in 
 a low voice.
 
 C92 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 Stepan Arkadyeviteh turned round. Landau was seated 
 near the window, with his arm leaning on a chair, and his 
 head bowed. He raised it, and smiled in a naive and child- 
 like manner as he saw the looks turned towards him. 
 
 " Don't pay any attention to him," said the countess, 
 pushing a chair towards Aleksei Aleksandrovitch. " I have 
 noticed " she began, but was interrupted by a lackey bring- 
 ing her a letter. She read it through with extraordinary 
 rapidity, wrote a reply, and resumed the thread of her dis- 
 course. "1 have noticed that Muscovites, the men espe- 
 cially, are very indifferent to religion." 
 
 "Oh, no, countess! I think that Muscovites have the rep- 
 utation of being very pious," replied Stepan Arkadyevitch. 
 
 "But you yourself," said Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, with 
 his weary smile, " seem to belong to the category of the 
 indifferents." 
 
 " Is it possible to be indifferent? " cried Lidia Ivanovna. 
 
 " I am not indifferent, but rather in the attitude of expec- 
 tation," answered Oblonsky, with his most agreeable smile. 
 " I do not think that the time for me to settle such questions 
 has come yet." 
 
 Kareniu and the countess looked at one another. 
 
 " We can never know whether the time for us has come or 
 not : we ought not even to think whether we are prepared or 
 not," said Aleksei Aleksandrovitch sternly. " Grace does 
 not always light upon the most deserving, but comes to those 
 who are unprepared ; witness Saul." 
 
 "It seems that it isn't to be now," murmured the count- 
 ess, following with her eyes the movements of the French- 
 man. Landau got up and joined them. 
 
 "May I listen?" asked he. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! we did not wish to disturb you," said the 
 countess tenderly. " Sit down with us." 
 
 "The essential thing is not to close one's eyes to the 
 light," continued Aleksei Aleksandrovitch. 
 
 " Ach! if you knew what a blessing we experience when 
 we feel His constant presence in our souls," said the Count- 
 ess Lidia Ivanovna, with an ecstatic smile. 
 
 ' ' But a man may feel himself incapable of rising to such 
 a height," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, convinced that the 
 heights of religion were not his forte, but fearing to offend 
 a person, who, by one word to Pomorsky, might get him the 
 place that he wanted.
 
 ANNA EARNINA. G93 
 
 "You mean that sin may prevent him?" asked Liclia 
 Ivanovna. " But that is a mistaken view. For him who 
 believes, there is no more sin. Sin is already redeemed. 
 Pardon," she added, as the lackey brought her another note. 
 She road it, and answered verbally : then she continued, 
 "For the believer, there is no sin." 
 
 " Yes ; but ' faith without works is dead,' " said Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch, recalling this phrase of his catechism. 
 
 " That is the famous passage in the Epistle of St. James 
 which has done so much harm," said Aleksei Aleksandro- 
 vitch, looking at the countess, as if to recall frequent dis- 
 cussions on the subject. " How many souls that has blinded 
 to the faith! " 
 
 "It is our monks who claim to be saved by works, by theif 
 fastings, their abstinences," said the countess, with an air of 
 fastidious scorn. "Our way is far better and easier," she 
 added, looking at Oblonsky with that scorching smile with 
 which, at court, she was wont to wither young maids of 
 honor, disconcerted at the newness of their position. 
 
 "Christ, in dying for us, saves us by faith," resumed 
 Kare"niu. 
 
 " Vous comprenez I'angluis?" [Do you understand Eng- 
 lish?] asked Lidia Ivanovna; and, receiving an affirmative 
 answer, she rose, and took a small book from a side-table. 
 " I'm going to read you, ' Safe and Happy ; or, Under the 
 Wing,' " said she, with a look of interrogation at Kare"nin. 
 "It is very short," added she, resuming her seat. "You 
 will see the supernatural joy that tills the soul of the be- 
 liever. Man who believes cannot be unhappy, because he is 
 no longer alone. Da! here you see" She was about 
 to go on reading when again the lackey appeared. " From 
 Borozdin? Say to-morrow, at two o'clock. Yes," she 
 said, with a sigh, marking the place in the book with her 
 finger, and looking up with her pensive, loving eyes. " Are 
 yon acquainted with Mary Sauina? You have heard of her 
 great affliction ? She lost her only sou. She was in despair. 
 Nu ! how is it now ? She found this friend. She thanks 
 God for the death of her child. Such is the happiness faith 
 can give ! ' ' 
 
 " Ah, yes : this is very" murmured Stepan Arkadye- 
 vitch, glad to be able to keep silent during this reading, and 
 not risk compromising his affairs. " I shall do better not to 
 ask any thing to-day," thought he.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 " This will be dull for you," said the countess to Landau. 
 " You don't understand English ; but this is short." 
 
 "Oh! I shall understand," said he with a smile ; and he 
 shut his eyes. 
 
 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch and the countess looked at one 
 another, and the reading began. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 STEFAN ARKADYEVITCH felt greatly embarrassed by this 
 strange conversation. After the monotony of life at Moscow, 
 that of Petersburg afforded contrasts so marked that they dis- 
 turbed him. He liked variety, but he preferred it more in the 
 line of his accustomed ways, and felt himself at a loss in such 
 a completely strange environment. As 'he listened to the 
 reading, and saw the brilliant eyes of Landau nctive or 
 knavish, he could not tell which fixed on him, he felt a 
 peculiar heaviness in his head. The strangest thoughts 
 whirled through his brain. " Mary Sanina is happy in having 
 lost her son " "It would be good if I could only smoke ! " 
 "To be saved, one must believe " " The monks are all 
 wrong, but the countess is all right. What makes my head 
 ache so? Is it the brandy, or the strangeness of all this? 
 I have done nothing out of the way as yet ; but I sha'n't ven- 
 ture to ask any thing to-day. They say she makes you say 
 your prayers. She wouldn't make me say mine. That 
 would be too nonsensical. What stuff that is she is read- 
 ing ! But she reads well. Landau Bezzubof, why Bezzu- 
 bof ? " Suddenly Stepan Arkadyevitch felt that his lower 
 jaw was irresistibly beginning to accomplish a yawn. He 
 smoothed his whiskers to conceal the yawn, and shook him- 
 self; but the next moment he felt sure that he was asleep, 
 and even beginning to snore. The voice of the countess 
 waked him, saying, " He's asleep." 
 
 Stepan Arkadyevitch waked with a start, feeling a con- 
 sciousness of guilt. But instantly he was relieved to find 
 that the words, " He's asleep," had reference, not to him- 
 self, but to Landau. The Frenchman was as sound asleep 
 as Stepan Arkadyevitch had been. But Stepau Arkady e- 
 vitch's nap would have offended them, he did not think 
 of this at the time, so strange did every thing seem, but 
 Landau's rejoiced them exceedingly, and especially the 
 Countess Lidia Ivanovna.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 695 
 
 " 3/oji ami" [my dear], said she cautiously, so as not to 
 disturb him ; and, picking up the folds of her silk dress, in 
 the enthusiasm of the moment, calling Karenin, not Aleks6i 
 Aleksandrovitch, but, "J/cw ami, donnez lui la main! vous 
 voyez?" [Give him your hand! do you see?] " Sh-h ! " 
 said she to a servant, who entered the parlor for the fourth 
 time with a message. 
 
 The Frenchman slept, or pretended to sleep, his head on 
 the back of his arm-chair, his hand resting on his knee, but 
 making feeble gestures, as if he were trying to catch some- 
 thing. Aleksei Aleksaudroviteh got up, cautiously stepped 
 over to the chair, and put his hand into the Frenchman's 
 hand. Stepau Arkadyevitch also got up, and opening his 
 eyt's wide, and tayiug to decide whether he were asleep or 
 not, looked from one to the other, and felt his ideas growing 
 more and more confused. 
 
 "' Que la person ne qui est arrivee In derniere, celle qui de- 
 'iii'i iidc. qu'elle snrte. Qu'elle sorte " [The person who came 
 in last the one who is questioning let him go away] , mur- 
 mured the Frenchman, without opening his eyes. 
 
 "Fows m'excuserez, mais vons voyez reoenez vers dix 
 heures, encore mieux, de-main " [You will excuse me, but you 
 understand come back at ten o'clock, or, still better, to- 
 morrow] . 
 
 " Qu'elle sorte," repeated the Frenchman impatiently. 
 
 " C'est moi, n'est ce pus ? " [It's I, isn't it?] asked Ob- 
 lonsky breathlessly ; and at an affirmative sign, forgetting 
 what he was going to ask Lidia Ivanovna, forgetting his 
 sister's trouble, he hastened out on tiptoe, and rushed off 
 down the street as if he were fleeing from a pest-house. To 
 recover his mental equilibrium he chatted and joked for a long 
 time with an izi'o*}n-!iik. had the man drive him to the French 
 theatre, and finished the evening at a restaurant, over some 
 champagne. In spite of all his efforts, the memory of the 
 evening haunted him. 
 
 He came back to his uncle Piotr Oblonsky's, where he was 
 staj'ing, and found a note from Betsy, telling him to come 
 and finish the conversation that had been interrupted in the 
 morning ; at which he made a face. The sound of a step on 
 the stair interrupted his meditations, and he came out of his 
 room to see who it was. It was his rejuvenated uncle, who 
 was so tipsy that he could not get up the stairs alone. Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch went with him to his room, and heard him tell
 
 ANNA KAKfiNINA. 
 
 the events of the evening till he fell asleep. Stepan Ar- 
 kadyevitch himself was in such a weak state of mind, that, 
 contrary to his custom, he did not fall asleep quickly. What 
 he had heard and seen during the day troubled him. But 
 the evening at the countess's passed all the rest in strange- 
 ness. 
 
 The next day he received from Alekse"i Aleksandrovitch a 
 flat refusal in the matter of the divorce, and knew that this 
 decision was the work of the Frenchman, and of the words 
 which he had uttered during his slumber, real or feigned. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 NOTHING complicates the difficulties of life so much as a 
 lack of harmony between married people. When their rela- 
 tions are so indefinite, nothing can be accomplished by either 
 husband or wife. 
 
 Many families stay for years in some place that is un- 
 pleasant and inconvenient, simply on account of differences, 
 simply because there is no full agreement or harmony. 
 
 The life of Vronsky and Anna at Moscow was insup- 
 portable. The trees on the boulevards put forth their leaves, 
 the sun grew warmer and warmer as summer came on, and the 
 leaves began to be coated with dust. Instead of going to 
 Vozdvizhenskoe, as they intended, they remained at Moscow, 
 hateful to them both, simply because there was lack of har- 
 mony between them. And yet no real ground of misunder- 
 standing existed between them, beyond that subtile irritation 
 which led Anna to continual attempts at explanation, and 
 Vronsky to oppose to her an icy reserve. From day to day 
 the strain of the situation increased. Anna considered love 
 to be the sole end of her lover's life, and could not understand 
 him from any other point of view. But this need of loving, 
 which she knew to be inherent in the count's nature, must 
 be centred on her alone, or else, in her blind jealousy, she 
 suspected him of infidelity, and with every woman. Some- 
 times she suspected him of low amours, which he might enter 
 into as an unmarried man about town : sometimes she dis- 
 trusted ladies in society, and especially the young lady whom 
 he would be likely to marry in case he broke with her. This 
 fear had been awakened in her mind b3 T a careless remark of 
 the count, who, in a moment of confidence one day, blamed
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 697 
 
 his mother's lack of tact in having ventured to propose to 
 him to marry the young Princess Sorokina. 
 
 This jealousy led Anna to la}' up a great variety of accu- 
 sations against him. And yet, after all, in spite of the 
 painfulness of her position, she adored him. But she con- 
 sidered him responsible for their prolonged stay at Moscow, 
 for the uncertainty in which she lived, for Alekse'i Aleksan- 
 drovitch's unreasonableness, and for her loneliness. If he 
 loved her, he would understand her, and pity her. He 
 wanted society, and so would not go to the country, as she 
 would like. And, more than all, he was responsible for 
 depriving her forever of her son. 
 
 Vrousk}-, for his part, dissatisfied with the false position 
 which Anna obstinately maintained, charged her with aggra- 
 vating still more their difficulties in all wa}-s. If there 
 came some rare moment of tenderness, Anna was not at all 
 appeased, seeing in it, on the count's part, only the exas- 
 perating assertion of a right. 
 
 It was getting dark. Vronsky was at a gentlemen's 
 dinner ; and Anna, while waiting for him, had taken refuge 
 in his library, where the noise of the street was less oppres- 
 sive than in the rest of the house. She walked up and 
 down, going over in memory their last altercation, and as- 
 tonished to find that so trivial a cause could have led to 
 so disgraceful a scene. In speaking of Hannah, Anna's 
 English protegee, Vronsky had ridiculed girls' schools, and 
 declared that the natural sciences would be of absolutely no 
 use to this child. Anna immediately, applied the criticism to 
 her own occupations, and, in order to pique Vronsky in turn, 
 said, 
 
 "I certainly did not count on your sympathy in the 
 matter, but I should have thought that the man who loved 
 me might show simple delicacy." 
 
 The count grew red with anger, and said something dis- 
 agreeable ; and when she did not know what to reply, 
 he, evidently intending to exasperate Anna still further, 
 said. 
 
 " I confess I don't understand your devotion to that 
 child. It annoj-s me. I can see in it nothing but an affec- 
 tation." 
 
 The remark was severe and unjust. It assailed Anna's 
 laborious efforts to find something to do which should help 
 her sustain her difficult situation.
 
 698 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 
 
 " It is very unfortunate that your opinions should be 
 always low and material ones," she had retorted, leaving 
 the room. 
 
 The discussion was not resumed. But they both felt that 
 it was not forgotten. All this day he had not been at home ; 
 and she was so lonely and wretched, as she thought of their 
 quarrels, that she resolved to forget every thing, and to take 
 the blame on herself, so as to bring about a reconciliation at 
 any cost. 
 
 "lam to blame; I am irritable; I am absurdly jealous. 
 When he has forgiven me, we will leave for the country ; 
 and there I shall be calmer," she thought. 
 
 ' ' Affected ! ' ' She suddenly remembered the word [nena- 
 turalno] which had roused all her wrath. 
 
 "I know what he meant. He meant by affected that I 
 did not love my daughter, but loved a stranger. AVhat does 
 he know of the love a child can inspire? Has he the least 
 idea what I sacrificed for him in giving up Serozha? But 
 this desire to wound me ! No, he loves another woman : 
 this cannot go on." 
 
 But stopping on the verge of this fatal chasm, she tried 
 to get out of the circle of thoughts that crowded upon her. 
 She said, "Yes, he is true; he is the soul of honor; he 
 loves me. I love him : in a day or two we shall be at peace. 
 What is necessary? Calmness, gentleness. Da! now, 
 when he comes, I will tell him that I was to blame ; and we 
 will go off." And, in order not to think any more, she 
 gave orders to bring down her trunks, to begin preparations 
 for departure. 
 
 At ten o'clock Vronsky came in. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " WAS your dinner a success? " asked Anna, going up to 
 the count with a conciliatory manner. 
 
 "As such things usually are," answered he, noticing at 
 once by her face that she was in one of her best moods. 
 " What do I see? This is first-rate," added he, pointing to 
 the trunks. 
 
 " Yes, we must go. I went out to walk to-day, and it was 
 so good that I longed to get back to the country. There's 
 nothing to keep you here, is there? "
 
 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 699 
 
 " I want nothing better. Have the tea brought while I 
 change my coat. I'll come back in a moment." 
 
 The approval of the plan for departure was given in a 
 tone of exasperating superiority, as if he had been speaking 
 to a spoiled child, whose whims he was excusing. Anna's 
 pugnacity was instantly aroused. Why should she humble 
 herself before such arrogance ? She restrained herself, how- 
 ever ; and when he came in she told him calmly the incidents 
 of the day, and her plans for departure. 
 
 " It came over me like an inspiration," said she, " why 
 wait here for the divorce? Will it not be all the same when 
 we are in the country? I cannot wait longer. I want to 
 stop hoping about the divorce. I don't want to hear any 
 thing more about it. I think it won't have any more effect 
 on my life. Don't you agree with me? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " said he, looking with disquietude at Anna's 
 excited face. 
 
 "Come, tell me what you did: who were there?" said 
 she, after a moment's silence. 
 
 " The dinner was very good," answered the count ; and he 
 named over to her those who were there. " And we had a 
 boat-race, and it was all very jolly. But in Moscow we are 
 always absurd. Some woman, the swimming-teacher of the 
 Queen of Sweden, gave us an exhibition of her art. 
 
 "What! Did she swim for you?" demanded Anna, 
 frowning. 
 
 " Yes, in an ugly red costume de natation. She was old 
 and hideous. What day do we go? " 
 
 " What an inane fantasia! Was there any thing extraor- 
 dinary about her method of swimming? " 
 
 " Not at all. I tell you it was simply absurd. So you 
 have decided on going?" 
 
 Anna tossed her head as if to get rid of a haunting 
 thought. 
 
 " When shall we go? The sooner the better. I sha'n't be 
 ready by to-morrow, but the day after." 
 
 "Yes no wait! Da}' after to-morrow is Sunday. I 
 shall have to go to maman." Vronsky was disturbed : as he 
 mentioned his mother's name, he saw Anna's eyes fixed with 
 a look of suspicion on him, and this disturbance increased 
 her distrust. She forgot the Queen of Sweden's swimming- 
 teacher in her alarm about the Princess Sorokina, who lived 
 in the suburbs of Moscow with the old countess.
 
 700 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 " Can't you go there to-morrow? " 
 
 " Da! That's impossible. There is some business that I 
 must attend to, a power of attorney ; and the money will 
 not be ready to-morrow." 
 
 " If that is so, we won't go at all." 
 
 "Dal Why not?" 
 
 " Sunday or never ! " 
 
 "Why not?" cried Vronsky in astonishment. " There's 
 no sense in that." 
 
 " Not for you, because you never take me into account at 
 all. You can't understand what I suffer here. The only 
 thing that interests me here Hannah. You say that it is 
 hypocrisy. You said last evening that I did not love my 
 daughter, but that I pretended to love this English girl, that 
 this was unnatural. I should like to know what can be 
 natural in the life I lead? " 
 
 Instantly she came to herself, and was frightened because 
 she had broken her vow. But, though she knew that she was 
 dashing to destruction, she could not resist the temptation of 
 proving to him that he was in the wrong. 
 
 " I never said that : I said that this sudden show of ten- 
 derness for her didn't please me." 
 
 " Why do you, wiio boast of being straightforward, tell 
 me a lie? " 
 
 " I never boast, and I never tell lies," said he, repressing 
 the anger which was rising within him; "and I am very 
 sorry if you do not respect " 
 
 "Respect! That was invented to cover up the lack of 
 love. If you don't love me any more, it would be better 
 and more honorable to say so." 
 
 " No ! this is becoming intolerable," cried the count, sud- 
 denly leaping from his chair, and turning upon Anna. "Why 
 .do you try my patience so? " he continued, holding back the 
 bitter words that were ready to escape him. "It has its limits.." 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" she demanded, looking 
 with terror at the unconcealed expression of hate on his 
 whole face, and especially in his fierce, cruel eyes. 
 
 " I mean " he began. Then he stopped. 
 
 " I have a right to demand what you claim from me." 
 
 " What can I claim? I can only claim that you do not 
 abandon me, as you intend to do," she said, comprehending 
 all that he left unsaid. " Every thing else is secondary. I 
 must be loved ; but love is gone. All is over."
 
 ANNA KAB&N1NA. 701 
 
 She turned towards the door. 
 
 " Stop ! stop ! " said Vronsky, still frowning, but holding 
 her by the arm. " What is the trouble between us? I say 
 that it is necessary to postpone our starting for three days, 
 and you answer by calling me a liar and a scoundrel." 
 
 " Yes ; and I say that a man who blames me because he 
 has sacrificed every thing for me," said she, alluding to a 
 former quarrel, "is worse than a scoundrel: he is a man 
 without heart." 
 
 " That settles it : my patience is at an end," cried Vronsky, 
 quickly dropping her hand. 
 
 " He hates me : that is certain," she thought, as she went 
 from the room in silence with tottering steps. " He loves 
 some one else : that is more certain still, ' ' she said to herself 
 as she reached her room. " I must be loved, but love is gone. 
 All is over." She repeated the words that she had said, 
 " I must put an end to it." 
 
 " But how? " she asked herself, sinking into a chair before 
 her mirror. 
 
 The most contradictory thoughts crowded upon her. 
 Where should she go ? ( To her aunt, who had brought her 
 up? To Dolly? or simply go abroad alone by herself? 
 Would the rupture be final? What was he doing in his 
 study? How would Aleksel Aleksandrovitch look upon it? 
 and what would her former acquaintances in Petersburg say ? 
 A vague idea came into her mind, and awakened some inter- 
 est, but she could not express it. She recalled a phrase 
 which she had used to her husband after her illness, " Why 
 didn't I die? " and immediately the words awoke the feeling 
 which they had then expressed. " Death, yes, that is the 
 only way of escape. My terrible shame, and the dishonor 
 which I have brought on Aleks6i Aleksandrovitch, Serozha, 
 all will be wiped away by my death. He will repent for me 
 then ; he will be sorry, will love me, he will weep for me." 
 A smile of pity for herself came over her face as she me- 
 chanically took off the rings from her fingers, and imagined 
 how he would feel after she was dead. Approaching steps 
 his steps caught her ears. She affected to be busily engaged 
 in taking off her rings, and did not turn her head. 
 
 He came to her, and, taking her hand, said tenderly, 
 " Anna, we will go day after to-morrow if you wish. I am 
 ready for any thing. 
 
 " Well? " said he, waiting.
 
 702 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 She did not speak. 
 
 " What do you say? " he asked. 
 
 "You yourself know" said she; and then, unable to 
 control herself longer, she burst into tears. " Leave me, 
 leave me," she murmured through her sobs. "I am going 
 away to-morrow I will do more. What am I? A lost 
 woman, a millstone about your neck. I don't want to tor- 
 ment you. I will set you free. You do not love me : you 
 love another." 
 
 Vronsky begged her to be calm. He swore there was not 
 the slightest ground for her jealousy, and that he loved her, 
 and always would love her ; that he loved her more than ever. 
 
 "Anna, why torture ourselves so? " he asked, as he kissed 
 her hand. His face expressed the deepest tenderness ; and 
 it seemed to her that her ears caught the sound of tears in 
 his voice, and that she felt their moisture on her hand. Pass- 
 ing suddenly from jealousy to the most passionate tenderness, 
 she covered his head, his neck, his hands, with kisses. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 FEELING that their reconciliation was complete, Anna the 
 next morning eagerly made her preparations for departure. 
 The day of departure was not definitely fixed ; but, feeling 
 sure that they should go in a day or two, Anna was busy in 
 her room taking some things from an open trunk, when 
 Vronsky entered, dressed to go out, notwithstanding the 
 early hour. 
 
 "I am going now to ma man. Perhaps she can get me the 
 money through Yegerof, and then I shall be read} 7 to go to- 
 morrow," he said. 
 
 His allusion to this visit disturbed Anna's good-humor. 
 
 " No : I shall not be ready myself ; " and immediately she 
 thought, " Therefore it ivas possible to arrange it so as to 
 do as I wished." 
 
 " No : do just as you intended to. And now go to the 
 dining-room, and I will join you as soon as I have taken out 
 these cumbersome things," she added, piling some more 
 trumpery into Annushka's arms. When she entered the 
 dining-room, Vronsky was eating a beefsteak. 
 
 " You can't realize how odious these apartments have lie- 
 come to me," she said as she sat down by him. " Nothing is
 
 ANNA KARfiSlNA. 703 
 
 more detestable than these chambres garnies. There is no 
 individuality in them, no soul. The clock, the curtains, the 
 paper koshmar [nightmare] ! Vozdvizheuskoe seems to me 
 like the promised land. It is decided that we go to-morrow, 
 is it?" she added in a joyous tone. But suddenly her face 
 lengthened. Vronsky's valet came in, and asked him to sign 
 a receipt for a despatch from Petersburg. Still, there was 
 nothing remarkable in Vronsky's receiving a telegram. 
 
 " To-morrow, without fail : I am all ready." 
 
 " From whom is the despatch ? ' ' she asked, not hearing him. 
 
 "From Stiva," answered the count quietly. 
 
 " Why don't you show it to me? What secret can there 
 be between Stiva and me? " 
 
 Vronsky called the valet back, and ordered him to bring 
 in the telegram. 
 
 " I did not care to show it, because Stiva has a passion for 
 telegraphing. Why need he send me a despatch to tell me 
 that nothing was decided?" 
 
 " About the divorce? " 
 
 " Yes. He maintains that he cannot get a definite answer. 
 Da, vot! See for yourself." 
 
 Anna took the despatch with a trembling hand. It read 
 as Vronsky had told her. At the end it said, "Little hope ; 
 but I shall do every thing possible and impossible." 
 
 "I told you yesterday that it was absolutely immaterial 
 to me when I received the divorce, or whether I get it at all : 
 so it is perfectly useless to hide any thing from me. Sup- 
 pose he hides from me in the same way his correspondence 
 with women," thought she. 
 
 Yashvin wanted to come this morning with one of his 
 friends," said Vrousky. "It seems that he has been gam- 
 bling again, and has won about sixty thousand rubles." 
 
 Xo," said she, vexed because he by this change in sub- 
 ject so evidently tried to insinuate that she was vexed. 
 " Why do you think that this news interests me so much 
 that you must hide it from me? I told you that I did not 
 want to think about it, and I should wish that you had as 
 little interest in it as I." 
 
 " It interests me because I like clearness." 
 
 " Clearness ! But in love, not in mere outside show," she 
 said, getting more and more angr}-, not at his words, but at 
 the tone of cool calmness in which he spoke. "Why do you 
 want a divorce?"
 
 704 ANNA KARNINA. 
 
 " Bozlie mo'i! Always ' love,' " thought Vronsky, with a 
 grimace. "You know very well why : it is for your sake 
 and the children's." 
 
 " There will not be any more children." 
 
 " So much the worse ! I am sorry." 
 
 " You feel the need of it, because of the children ; but 
 don't you have some thought of me?" said she, forgetting 
 that he had just said " for your sake and the children's." 
 
 The question of the possibility of having children had 
 been long vexatious and trying to her. She took his desire 
 to have children as a proof of indifference towards her 
 beauty. 
 
 "Ach! I said for 'your sake, more than all for your 
 sake ; for I am convinced that your irritability comes largely 
 from the uncertainty of your position," he answered, scowl- 
 ing with annoyance. 
 
 " That is not the cause ; and I do not understand how my 
 irritability, as you call it, can be caused by the fact that I 
 have come absolutely into your power," she said, seeing 
 with terror, in Vronsky's eyes, a cold and cruel judge con- 
 demning her. " How is my position indefinite? It seems 
 to me the contrary." 
 
 " I am sorry that you are not willing to understand," he 
 replied, obstinatel}" determined to express his thought. " Its 
 uncertainty comes from this, that you think that I am 
 free." 
 
 " Oh ! as far as that goes, you can be perfectly easy," she 
 said, turning from him, and beginning to drink her coffee. 
 She took the cup, raising her little finger, and put it to her 
 lips ; and as she drank she looked at him, and by the ex- 
 pression of his face saw clearly that her motions and the 
 sounds that she made in swallowing wrought on Vronsky's 
 nerves. 
 
 "It is absolutely indifferent to me what your mother 
 thinks, and how she intends to marry you off," said she, 
 putting down the cup with trembling hand. 
 
 " We will not talk of her." 
 
 " Yes we will too : and I assure you that a heartless 
 woman, whether young or old, your mother or anybody 
 else, does not interest me ; and I don't want to know 
 her." 
 
 " Anna, I beg you not to speak disrespectfully of my 
 mother."
 
 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 705 
 
 " A woman who has no conception of what the honor of 
 her son consists in, has no heart." 
 
 " I repeat my request that you will not speak of my 
 mother disrespectfully," reiterated the count, raising his 
 voice, and looking severely at Anna. 
 
 She did not reply, but looked attentively at his face and 
 his hands, and recalled with all its details the scene of the 
 evening before, and his passionate caresses. " Just such 
 caresses he has lavished, and will still continue to lavish, on 
 other women," she thought. 
 
 " You don't love your mother. Those are simply words, 
 words, words ! " she said, looking at him with angry eyes. 
 
 " If that is the case, it is necessary " 
 
 "It is necessary to decide ; and I have decided," said 
 she, preparing to leave the room, when the door opened, and 
 Yashvin entered. 
 
 She stopped immediately, and bade him good-morning. 
 
 Why, when her soul was full of bitterness ; when she felt 
 that she was at the turning-point of her life, which might 
 take a terrible direction, why, at th'is moment, she had to 
 dissimulate before a stranger, who sooner or later would 
 know all, she could not tell ; but, calming the inner tumult 
 of her feelings, she sat down again, and began to talk with 
 the guest. 
 
 "JVM / how are your affairs? Have they paid you your 
 debt? " she asked. 
 
 " Da! not yet. I shall probably get a part of it Wednes- 
 day," said Yashvin awkwardly; for he perceived that he 
 had come in at an unfortunate moment. "When do you 
 leave?" 
 
 " Da}' after to-morrow, I think," said Vronsky. 
 
 " You have taken long to make up your minds." 
 
 "But now it is all decided," said Anna, looking straight 
 into Vronsky's eyes with a look that told him how impossible 
 it was to think of reconciliation. 
 
 " Do you never pity your unfortunate adversaries? " con- 
 tinued Anna, speaking to the gambler. 
 
 " That's a question I have never asked myself, Anna 
 Arkadyevna. My whole fortune is here," said he, pointing 
 to his pocket. " Now I am a rich man, but I may come out 
 of the club this evening a beggar. Whoever plays with me 
 would gladly leave me without a shirt, and I him. Nul We 
 engage in war, and that makes the fun."
 
 706 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 
 
 "JVw/ but if 3'ou were married, what would your wife 
 say?" 
 
 Yashvin laughed. " But I am not married, and I don't 
 expect to marry." 
 
 " And haven't you ever been in love? " 
 
 " O Lord ! plenty of times. Only remember one may sit 
 down to cards, but he must be able to get up when the time 
 comes for a rendezvous; and I get interested in love, but in 
 such a way that I need not be late to play my hand in the 
 evening." 
 
 A horse-jockey in the mean while came to see about buy- 
 ing a horse, and Anna left the dining-room. 
 
 Before he left the house, Vrousky went to her room to look 
 for something on the table. She pretended not to see him ; 
 but then, being ashamed of this dissimulation, she looked 
 him straight in the face, and asked him. coolly in French, 
 ' What do you want? " 
 
 "The original certificate of the horse I've just sold," an- 
 swered Vronsky in a tone which distinctly meant these words : 
 " I have not time to begin explanations which will lead to 
 nothing." 
 
 "I'm not to blame," thought he : " tant pis pour elle [so 
 much the worse for her] if she wants to punish herself." 
 
 However, as he left the room he thought she said some- 
 thing to him, and his heart was suddenly touched with com- 
 passion for her. " AVhat is it, Anna? " he asked. 
 
 " I said nothing," she answered coldly and calmly. 
 
 "Nothing! tant pis," he said again to himself. On his 
 way out, as he passed a mirror, he caught sight in it of her 
 pale face and trembling lips. He was tempted to go back and 
 say some comforting words to her, but he was already too 
 far on his way. He passed the entire day outside the house ; 
 and when he came home the maid informed him that Anna 
 Arkadyevna had the headache, and begged not to be dis- 
 turbed. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 NEVER before had a day gone by without bringing a recon- 
 ciliation. This was not a mere quarrel : it was apparently a 
 permanent coldness. How was it possible for him to look at 
 her as he had done when he came into her room after his 
 document ? how could he look at her, and see that her heart
 
 ANNA KARtiXINA. 707 
 
 was full of despair, and then go out with a calm, indifferent 
 face ? He had not only grown cold to her, but he hated her, 
 because he loved some other woman. This was clear. 
 
 All the cruel words which had ever fallen from the count's 
 lips came back to Anna's mind ; and she thought of what he 
 might say to her, and she grew more and more indignant. 
 
 " I will not keep 3'ou," she imagined him saying. " You 
 can go when you please. As you don't care to be divorced 
 from your husband, you probably intend to go back to him. 
 If you want money, I will give it to you. How many rubles 
 do you want?" 
 
 All these insulting words which the cruel man might say 
 were said merely in her imagination, but she could not for- 
 give him any more than if he had really said them. 
 
 " But did he not swear to me only yesterda}' that he loved 
 me? Isn't he a sincere and honest man? " she said to her- 
 self a moment afterwards. " Haven't I been hi despair sev- 
 eral times before, all for nothing? " 
 
 She passed the entire day, except two hours during which 
 she made a visit to her proteges, the Wilsons, in alternate 
 doubt and hope. She had been waiting all day ; and late in 
 the evening she went to her room, telling Auuushka to say 
 that she had the headache. 
 
 " If he comes in spite of that, it will show that he loves 
 me still : if not. it is over, and I shall make up my mind 
 what there is for me to do." 
 
 When he returned, she heard his^carriage-wheels on the 
 pavement, his ring and his steps, and his colloquy with An- 
 uushka ; then his steps passed by ; he went into his library, 
 and Anna knew that her lot was cast. Death presented 
 itself before her clearly and vividly as the only way to 
 punish Vronsky, to gain the victory over him, and to revive 
 liis love for her. 
 
 Now every thing was a matter of indifference whether 
 they went to the country or not, whether she procured the 
 divorce or not it was unnecessary : the essential thing was 
 to punish him. 
 
 When she poured out her usual dose of opium, and it came 
 over her that if she swallowed all that was in the vial she 
 would die,*it seemed so easy and simple that she felt a real 
 joy in imagining how he would mourn, repent, and love her 
 when it was too late. As she lay on her bed with open eyes, 
 and watched the flickering candle-light on the moulded cor-
 
 708 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 nice of the ceiling mingle with the shadow of the screen which 
 divided the room, she vividly pictured to herself how he would 
 think when she was no more, when she was only a memory. 
 "How could I speak to her such cruel words?" he would 
 say to himself. " How could I leave her without one loving 
 word ? and now she is gone : she has left us forever ! She 
 is there" Suddenly the shadow of the screen seemed to 
 waver and cover the whole ceiling : the other shadows from 
 all sides joined in with it, trembling, and all became one 
 absolute obscurit}'. 
 
 "Death!" thought she; and such a great terror seized 
 her whole being, that for a long time she did not know where 
 she was ; her trembling hands could not find the matches, in 
 order to light another candle in place of the one that had 
 burned down and gone out. When it dawned on her that 
 she was still alive, tears of joy poured down her cheeks. 
 
 "No, no! any thing only to live! I love him, and he 
 loves me: these dreadful days will go by ! " and to escape 
 her terror she fled to Vrousky's library. 
 
 He was in his library peacefully sleeping. She went close 
 to him, and, holding the candle above his face, looked 
 at him a long time. Now, as he slept, she felt such love 
 for him, that she wept for tenderness ; but she knew, that, 
 if she woke him, he would look at her coldly, and that she 
 would not be able to resist accusing him, and justifying her- 
 self. She went back to her room, and swallowed a second 
 dose of opium, which threw her into a heavy sleep, without 
 taking from her the consciousness of her misery. 
 
 Towards morning she had the frightful nightmare which 
 she had experienced several times before. She saw a little 
 old man, with unkempt beard, stirring something in a gourd, 
 and muttering unintelligible French words ; and, as always 
 when she had this nightmare, she felt that the little old 
 man shook it over her head without noticing her ; and 
 therein lay the horror of the dream. She awoke in a cold 
 perspiration. 
 
 When she got up, the events of the day before seemed 
 enveloped in mist. 
 
 "There was a quarrel. It had happened several times be- 
 fore. I said I had a headache, and he didn't cOme to see 
 me. That is all. To-morrow we will go away. I must 
 see him, and get ready for our departure," she said to 
 herself ; and knowing that he was in his library, she started
 
 ANNA KABfiNINA. 709 
 
 to go to him. But in crossing the parlor, her attention was 
 arrested by the sound of a carriage stopping, and she looked 
 out of the window. It was a conp6. A young girl in a 
 light hat was stepping from the carriage, and giving or- 
 ders to the footman, who was at the door-bell. After a 
 colloquy in the vestibule, some one came up-stairs, and Anna 
 heard Vronsky's steps in the drawing-room. Then he ran 
 swiftly down-stairs. Anna looked out again, and saw him 
 go out to the door-steps bare-headed, and approach the car- 
 riage. The young girl in the lilac-colored hat handed him a 
 package. Vronsky smiled as he spoke to her. The coup& 
 drove away, and Vronsky came quickly up-stairs. 
 
 This little scene suddenly cleared away the mist which 
 weighed upon Anna's soul, and the feelings of yesterday 
 tore her heart more cruelly than ever. She now could not 
 understand how she could have so far debased herself as to 
 stay one day more under his roof. She went into the count's 
 library, to acquaint him with the resolution that she had 
 taken. 
 
 " The Princess Sorokina and her daughter have brought 
 me the money and papers from maman. I could not get 
 them yesterday. How is your headache? better?" he said 
 quietly, not seeming to notice the gloomy and tragic expres- 
 sion of Anna's face. 
 
 She did not reply ; but, standing in the middle of the room, 
 she looked fixedly at him. He glanced at her, his brows 
 contracted, and he continued to read his letter. Without 
 speaking, Anna turned slowly about, and left the room He 
 might yet detain her ; but he let her pass the threshold, and 
 the only sound heard was the rustling of the sheet of paper. 
 
 " By the way," he exclaimed, just as she was disappear- 
 ing, " it is really decided that we go to-moirow? " 
 
 "You, but not I," answered she. 
 
 "Anna, this kind of life is impossible." 
 
 "You, not I," she repeated again. 
 
 " It's no longer tolerable ! " 
 
 "You you will be sorry for this," said she; and she 
 went out. 
 
 Vronsky was frightened at the despairing tone with which 
 she spoke those last words, and his first impulse was to fol- 
 low her ; but he reflected, seated himself, and, irritated by 
 this inappropriate threat, he muttered between his teeth, 
 " I have tried every means : there's nothing left but indiffer-
 
 710 ANNA KAHtiNINA. 
 
 ence ; " and he finally put on his coat to go to his mother's, 
 to have her sign a deed. 
 
 Anna heard the sound of his steps in his library and the 
 dining-room. He stopped in the drawing-room. But he 
 did not come to her : he only gave some directions about 
 the horse that he had just sold. She heard the carriage drive 
 up, and the door open. Some one hurried up-stairs. She ran 
 to the window, and saw Vronsky take from his valet's hands 
 a pair of forgotten gloves, then touch the coachman's back, 
 and say some words to him ; and then, without glancing at 
 the window, he sat down, as -usual, in the carriage, crossing 
 one leg over the other. And he turned the corner, and 
 disappeared from Anna's sight. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 "He is gone. It's all over," said she to herself, as she 
 stood at the window ; and the same cold horror which she 
 felt in the night at the dying candle and the nightmare seized 
 her now. " No, this cannot be," she cried. She was afraid 
 to stay alone. She rang the bell violently, and, without 
 waiting, went to meet the servant. 
 
 " Find out where the count has gone." 
 
 The man replied that he had gone to the stables. "He 
 left word that the carriage would return immediately if you 
 wished to go out." 
 
 " Very well. I am going to write a note, which you will 
 send by Mikhail to the stables. Hay,e him hurry." 
 
 She sat down, and wrote, 
 
 "I am to blame. Come back. We must explain things. For 
 Heaven's sake, come! I am frightened." 
 
 She sealed the note, and gave it to the servant; and, in 
 her fear of being alone, she went to see her little girl. 
 
 " He is not the same as he was. Where are his blue eyes, 
 and his pretty, timid smile? " was her first thought when she 
 saw the beautiful, black-eyed child, instead of Serozha, whom, 
 in the confusion of her thoughts, she had expected to see. 
 
 The little one was seated at the table, noisily tapping on 
 it with a glass stopper. She looked at her mother with her 
 two dark, wine-colored eyes. Answering the English nurse 
 that she was well, and expected to go to the country the next
 
 ANNA KARtiXINA. 711 
 
 day, she stopped over in front of the little one, and put 
 the stopper back into the carafe. The motion of the child's 
 brows and her heart}' laugh recalled Vronsky so vividly, that 
 Anna, choking down her sobs, rose suddenly, and hurried 
 from the room. 
 
 " Is it possible that all is over? No, it cannot be," thought 
 she. "He will return. But how can he explain that smile 
 of his, and his animation, after what he said? I shall be- 
 lieve whatever he says : otherwise there is only one remedy 
 that I see, and that I do not want." 
 
 She looked at her watch. Twelve minutes went by. 
 
 "He has received my note, and must come back in ten 
 minutes. And if he shouldn't come back? That's impossi- 
 ble. He must not find me with red eyes : I'll go and bathe 
 my face. Z>a, da! Have I brushed my hair yet?" She 
 could not remember. She put her hands to her head. "Yes, 
 I brushed my hair, but I really don't remember when it was." 
 She actually did not believe that her hands told her truly, 
 and she went to the pier-glass to see. Her hair was properly 
 arranged, but she could not remember any thing about it. 
 
 Who is that? " she asked herself, as she caught sight of 
 a glowing face and strangely brilliant eyes gazing at her 
 from the mirror. " Yes, it is I." And she suddenly seemed 
 to feel his kisses ; and she shivered, and shrugged her shoul- 
 ders. Then she put her hand to her lips, and kissed it. "It 
 must be that I am going crazy ; " and she fled to her room, 
 where Anuushka was arranging her dresses. 
 
 " Annushka," she said, as she stood before the maid, not 
 knowing what to say. 
 
 " Will you go to Darya Aleksandrovua's ? " said the maid, 
 for the sake of suggesting something. 
 
 " To Darya Aleksandrovna's? Yes, I will go there. Fif- 
 teen minutes to go, fifteen to come back. He ought to be 
 here." She looked at her watch. " Oh ! how could he leave 
 me in such a condition? How can he live, and not be at 
 peace with me? " She went to the window, and looked out 
 on the street : perhaps she had made a mistake in calculating, 
 and she began over again to count the minutes since he left. 
 
 Just as she was about going to consult the great clock, 
 a carriage stopped before the door. It was the count's 
 carriage ; but no one came up-stairs, and she heard voices in 
 the vestibule. It was the messenger who came back in the 
 carriage. She hurried dowu to him.
 
 712 ANNA KARtiNlNA. 
 
 "The count had just gone to the railroad station," said 
 Mikhail, as he handed her back the note. 
 
 "Go with this note to the Countess Vronskaia's in the 
 country, you understand? and bring an answer back to me 
 immediately ! " 
 
 " But what was I going to do? " she thought. " Yes ; I 
 was going to see Dolly, to be sure ; but I shall be crazy. 
 Ah! I might telegraph!" and she wrote the following 
 despatch: "I absolutely must speak to you. Come back 
 immediately." 
 
 Having sent the telegram, she went and dressed ; and then, 
 with her hat on, she again looked at Annushka, whose little, 
 gentle gray eyes were full of sympathy. 
 
 " Annushka, my dear, what am I to do? " murmured she, 
 dropping into an arm-chair, with a sob. 
 
 " You musu't excite yourself so, Anna Arkadyevna. Go 
 out for a walk : that will divert you. These things will 
 happen." 
 
 "Yes, I am going out," said Anna, collecting her thoughts, 
 and rising. " If a despatch comes while I am gone, send it 
 to Darya Aleksandrovna's. Or no, I will come back." 
 
 "I must keep from thinking. I must do something, and 
 go out, and, above all, get out of this house," thought she, 
 listening, with alarm, to the wild beating of her heart. She 
 quickly got into the carriage. " To the Princess Oblou- 
 skaia's," she said to Piotr, the driver. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 THE weather was clear. A fine, thick rain had fallen all 
 the morning. But now it was bright. The roofs and flag- 
 stones and harnesses and the metal-work of the carriages 
 glittered in the May sunshine. It was three o'clock, the 
 busiest time in the streets. 
 
 Sitting in the corner of the comfortable carriage, which was 
 rapidly drawn by a pair of grays, Anna, under the influence 
 of the easy motion of the springs, and the fresh, pure air, 
 reviewed the events of the past few days, and her situation 
 seemed entirely different from what it had been at home. 
 The idea of death did not frighten her so much, and did not 
 seem to her so inevitable. Now she blamed herself for the 
 humiliation to which she had stooped. "I begged him to
 
 ANNA EARNINA. 713 
 
 forgive me. I bent before him. I accused myself? Why 
 did I? Can't I live without him?" And, leaving this 
 question unanswered, she began to read the sign-boards 
 mechanically. " Office and warehouse. Surgeon-Dentist. 1 
 Yes, I will tell Dolly all about it. She does not love Vron- 
 sky. It will be hard, shameful to confess every thing but 
 I will. She loves me. I'll follow her advice. I will not 
 allow myself to be treated like a child. PhiUppof Ka- 
 latchi [little cakes] ; they say they send them as far as 
 Petersburg. The water at Moscow is so good ; ah ! the 
 wells of Muitishchensky ! " And she remembered how long, 
 long ago, when she was seventeen, she had gone with her 
 aunt to the monastery of Troitsa 2 [Trinity] . 
 
 "They travelled with horses in those days. Was it really 
 I, with the red hands? How many things which seemed then 
 beautiful and unattainable, are worthless to me now ! What 
 I was then, is passed forever beyond recall ! And ages 
 could not bring me back. Would I have believed then that 
 I could have fallen into such debasement? How proud and 
 self-satisfied he will be when he reads my note ! But I will 
 tell him How disagreeable this paint smells ! Why are they 
 always painting and building! Fashionable Dressmaker." 
 [inodui i uborui~\ she read. 
 
 A man bowed to her: it was Annushka's husband. "Our 
 parasites, as Vronsky says. Ours? Wh}- ours? Ah, if one 
 could tear out the past by the roots ! But that's impossible : 
 one can only avoid thinking about it. And I do that." 
 And yet here she recalled her past with Aleksi Aleksandro- 
 vitch, and how she drove him out of her memory. " Dolly 
 will think that I am leaving the second husbaud, and that I 
 am therefore really bad. Do I want to be good? I cannot." 
 And she felt the tears coming. And seeing two happy 
 young girls going by, she fell to wondering why the} 7 were 
 smiling at each other. " Probabby about love. They don't 
 know how sad and wretched it is. The boulevards and the 
 children ! There are three little boys, playing horse. Sero- 
 zha ! my little Serozha. 1 shall lose all. I shall never have 
 him again. Da! if he does not come back, all is indeed 
 lost. Perhaps he missed the tan, and has alread}* reached 
 
 1 Kontor i sklad. Zubnoi' Vratch. 
 
 1 The TroUifka'ia Zorrra, near Moscow, founded by St. Sergius in the fourteenth 
 century in the time of the Grand Prince Simeon; the richest and most famous in- 
 stitution of its kind in Russia. At one time it had 700 monks and 110,000 souls, or 
 male serfs.
 
 714 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 home. Do I wish to humiliate myself still more? " she said, 
 reproaching herself for her weakness. " No, I'm going to 
 Dolly's. I shall sa} 1 to her, ' I am unhappy, I am suffering ; 
 I deserve it: but I am so unhappy, help me! ' Oh, these 
 horses, this carriage ! how I hate to use them ! they are his. 
 I will never see them again ! " While thinking over what 
 she should say to Dolly, and deliberately torturing her heart, 
 she reached the house, and went up the steps. 
 
 " Is there company? " she asked, in the ante-room. 
 
 " Katerina Aleksandrovna Levina," answered the servant. 
 
 '"Kitty, the same Kitty that Vronsky once loved," 
 
 thought Anna ; " and he thinks of her with love, and is sorry 
 
 that he did not marry her ; and he thinks of me with hate, 
 
 and is sorry that he ever met me." 
 
 When Anna arrived, the two sisters were talking over the 
 subject of Kitty's diet. Dolly went alone to the parlor to 
 receive her. 
 
 " You haven't gone away yet? I was just going to your 
 house. I have a letter from Stiva to-day." 
 
 "We had a" despatch," answered Anna, turning to see if 
 Kitty were coming. 
 
 " He writes that he does not understand what Aleks^i 
 Aleksandrovitch requires, but that he will not come away till 
 he has a definite answer." 
 
 " I thought that you had company. Can I read the 
 letter?" 
 
 "Yes, Kitty," said Dolly, disturbed: "she is in the 
 nursery. You know she has been very ill." 
 
 " I heard so. Can I read the letter ? " 
 
 " Certainly : I'll go and look for it. Aleksei Aleksandro- 
 vitch does not refuse : on the contrary, Stiva is quite hope- 
 ful," said Dolly, stopping at the door. 
 
 " I neither hope nor want any thing. Does Kitty think it 
 beneath her dignity to meet me?" thought Anna, when she 
 was left alone. "Perhaps she is right; but she who once 
 loved Vronsky has no right to thrust it in my face, even if 
 she is right. I know that a virtuous woman cannot receive 
 me in my present position. I have given up every thing for 
 him, and this is my reward ! Ah, how I hate him ! Why 
 did I come here? I am more wretched here than at home." 
 She heard the voices of the two sisters in an adjoining room. 
 " And what am I to say to Dolly? Delight Kitty with the 
 spectacle of my misery ? Submit to her condescension?
 
 ANNA KAENINA. . 715 
 
 Da! Even Dolly wouldn't understand. I will not say any 
 thing to her. All I should want to see Kitty for would be 
 to show her that I am indifferent, that I scorn it all." 
 
 Dolly came in with the letter : Anna looked it through, and 
 returned it. 
 
 " I knew all that," said she ; " but it doesn't interest me 
 at all." 
 
 " Da! Why not? I have good hope," said Dolly, look- 
 ing critically at Anna. She had never seen her in such a 
 strange state of irritation. " When do you go away? " 
 
 Anna half closed her eyes, and looked before her without 
 answering. 
 
 "Is Kitty afraid of me?" she asked, after a moment, 
 glancing towards the door with heightened color. 
 
 " Ach, what nonsense ! But she is nursing the baby, and 
 cannot come just yet. On the contrary, she is delighted, 
 and is coming directly," answered Dolly awkwardly, as she 
 disliked telling a fib. " There she is now." 
 
 When Kitty heard of Anna's call, she had not wished to 
 appear ; but Dolly reasoned with her, and she finally con- 
 trolled her repugnance, and went to the parlor. She blushed 
 as she approached Anna, and held out her hand. 
 
 " I am very glad," said she, in a low voice. 
 
 Kitty was constrained between her dislike of this wicked 
 woman and her desire to be polite to her ; but as soon as she 
 saw Anna's beautiful, sympathetic face, all her prejudice 
 vanished. 
 
 " I should have thought it quite natural if you had refused 
 to see me- I am used to every thing," said Anna. " You 
 have been very ill : yes, you have changed." 
 
 Kitty thought that Anna looked at her with dislike, and 
 she attributed her unfriendliness to the unpleasant position 
 in which she stood in regard to herself. Her heart was filled 
 with compassion. 
 
 They talked of Kitty's illness, of her child, and of Stiva ; 
 but Anna was evidently absent-minded. 
 
 " I came to bid you good-by," she said to Dolly, as she 
 rose. 
 
 " A\ r hen do you go? " 
 
 Without answering her, Anna turned with a smile to Kitty. 
 
 " Da! I am very glad to have seen you again, I've heard 
 so much about you from everybody, and especially from 
 your husband. He came to see me, and I liked him very
 
 716 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 much," she added, with a wicked emphasis. "Where is 
 he?" 
 
 "He has gone to the country," answered Kitty, blush- 
 ing. 
 
 " Give my love to him : now, don't forget ! " 
 
 " I will do it, certainly," said Kitty simply, with a com- 
 passionate look. 
 
 "So proshclitii [good-by], Dolly," said Anna, kissing 
 her ; and shaking hands with Kitty, she hastened away. 
 
 "She is as fascinating as ever," remarked Kitty to her 
 sister, when Doll}' came in after going to the door with 
 Anna. " And how beautiful she is ! But there is something 
 very painful about her, terribly painful." 
 
 " She doesn't seem to be in her usual state to-day. I 
 thought she came near bursting into tears in the ante- 
 room." 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 ANNA took her seat in the carriage, and went home more 
 unhappy than ever. Her interview with Kitty awakened the 
 consciousness of her own moral depravity, and the pain of 
 this she felt in addition to her former sufferings. 
 
 " Where shall I drive you? Home? " asked Piotr. 
 
 " Yes, home," she replied, scarcely knowing what she 
 said. 
 
 " They looked upon me as some strange, incomprehensible 
 creature. What can that man be saying so eagerly to the 
 other? " thought she, seeing two passers-by talking together. 
 " Is it possible to say what one really feels ? I wanted to con- 
 fess to Dolly, and I am glad that I kept still. How she would 
 have rejoiced at my uuhappiuess ! She would have tried to 
 hide it, but at heart she would have been glad : she would 
 have thought it just that I should pay for that happiness 
 which she begrudged me. And Kitty would have been still 
 more pleased. How I read her through and through ! She 
 knows her husband liked me uncommonly well, and she is 
 jealous, and hates me ; and, what's more, she despises me. 
 In her eyes, I am an immoral woman. If I had been what 
 she thinks, how easily I could have turned her husband's 
 head if I had wanted to ! I confess I thought of it. There 
 goes a man who is delighted with his own looks," she said
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 717 
 
 to herself, as a tall, florid man went b}', and, mistaking her 
 for an acquaintance, lifted his shiny hat from his shiny bald 
 head. "He thought he knew me ! He knows me quite as 
 well as anybody in the world knows me. I don't know my- 
 self : I only know my appetites, as the French say. They 
 covet some of that bad ice-cream," she said to herself, as 
 she watched two little street-children standing in front of a 
 vender, who had just set down from his head his tub of ice- 
 cream, and was wiping his face with a corner of his coat. 
 " We all want our sweet delicacies ; if not sugar-plums, then 
 bad ice-cream, just like Kitty, who, not catching Vrousky, 
 took Levin. She envies me, she hates me ; and we hate 
 each other. So goes the world. Tintkin coiffeur Je me 
 fais coiffer [' I will have my hair dressed '] par Tiutkin. 
 I will tell him this nonsense when he comes," thought 
 she, and smiled, and then instantly remembered that there 
 was no one now to whom she could tell amusing things. 
 l - There is nothing amusing, nothing gay: it is all disgust- 
 ing. The vesper-bell is ringing, and that storekeeper is 
 crossing himself so quickly that one would think he was 
 afraid of losing the chance. 
 
 " Why these churches, these bells, these lies? Just to 
 hide the fact that we all hate each other, like those izvoshchiks 
 who are swearing at each other so angrily. Yashvin was 
 right when he said, ' He is after my shirt, and I am after 
 his.' ' 
 
 She was sfc engrossed by these thoughts that she forgot 
 her grief for a while, and was surprised when the carriage 
 stopped in front of her house. The sight of the Swiss, com- 
 ing to meet her, reminded her that she had sent a letter and 
 a telegram. 
 
 " Is there an answer yet? " 
 
 " I will go and see," said the Swiss ; and he came back in 
 a moment with a telegram in a thin square envelope. Anna 
 read, 
 
 " I cannot be back before ten o'clock. VBONSKT." 
 
 " And has the messenger come back? " 
 
 " Not yet," replied the Swiss. 
 
 "Ah ! if that is so, then I know what I must do ;" and feel- 
 ing a vague sense of anger and a desire for vengeance arising 
 in her soul, she ran up-stairs.
 
 718 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 " I myself will go and find him," thought she. " Before 
 I go away forever, I will show him what he has done. I never 
 hated any one as I hate this man ! " And when she caught 
 sight of Vrousky's hat hanging in the ante-room, she shivered 
 with aversion. She did not reflect that the despatch was in 
 answer to her telegram, and that he could not have yet re- 
 ceived her note. She imagined him now chatting gayly with 
 his mother and the Princess Sorokina without a thought of 
 her suffering. " Yes, I must go as quickly as possible," she 
 said, not knowing at all whither she should go. She felt 
 that she must fly from these thoughts which weighed her down 
 in this terrible house. The servants, the walls, the furniture, 
 every thing about it, filled her with disgust and pain, and 
 crushed her with a terrible weight. 
 
 "Yes, I must go to the railroad station, and if not there, 
 then somewhere, to punish him." Anna looked at the time- 
 table in the newspaper. The evening train went at two minutes 
 past eight. " Yes, I shall have plenty of time." She ordered 
 the two other horses to be harnessed, and she had transferred 
 from her trunk to her travelling-bag things enough to last 
 for several days. She knew that she should never come back 
 again. She revolved a thousand plans in her head, and deter- 
 mined that when she had done what she had in mind to do, 
 either at the countess's country-seat, or at the station, she 
 would go to the first city on the Nizhni Novgorod Railroad that 
 she might happen to think of. Dinner was on the table. She 
 took a bit of bread and cheese : the smell of tlft victuals was 
 repugnant to her. She ordered the carriage again, and went 
 out. The house cast a shadow clear across the street ; but 
 the sky was clear, and it was warm in the sun. Annushka, 
 who brought her things, and Piotr, who carried them to the 
 carriage, and the coachman, who was evidently angry, all 
 were disagreeable to her, and vexed her with their words 
 and motions. 
 
 " I do not need you, Piotr." 
 
 " Who will get your ticket? " 
 
 "Nu! Go if you wish: it makes no difference to me," 
 she said pettishly. Piotr nimbly mounted the box, and, fold- 
 ing his arms, ordered the coachman to drive to the Nizhni 
 station.
 
 ANNA KARfiNIFA 719 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " Now I am myself again, now my mind is clear," said 
 Anna to herself, as soon as the carriage started, and, rolling 
 a little, flew swiftly along the uneven pavement. 
 
 " Da ! what was that good thing that I was thinking about 
 last? Tintkin, the coiffeur? Oh, no ! not that. Oh, yes ! 
 what Yashvin said about the struggle for existence, and 
 hatred, the only thing that unites men. No : we go at hap- 
 hazard." 
 
 She saw in a carriage drawn by four horses a party of 
 merrymakers, who had evidently come to the city for a pleas- 
 ure-trip. 
 
 " What are you seeking under the disguise of pleasure?" 
 she thought. "You won't escape from yourselves;" and 
 then, as her eye fell on a drunken workman, led by a 
 policeman, she added, "That man's way is quicker. Count 
 Vronsky and I did not reach this pleasure, though we ex- 
 pected much." 
 
 And for the first time Anna turned upon her relations 
 with the count this bright light which was suddenly reveal- 
 ing her life to her. 
 
 " What did he seek in me? A satisfaction for his vanity, 
 rather than for his love ! ' ' 
 
 And she remembered Vronsky's words, and the expression 
 of his face, which reminded her of a submissive dog, when 
 they first met and loved. Every thing seemed a confirma- 
 tion of this thought. 
 
 ' 'Da ! he cared for the triumph of success above every thing. 
 Of course, he loved me, but chiefly from vanity. Now that 
 he is not proud of me any more, it is over. He is ashamed 
 of me. He has taken from me all that he could take, and 
 now I am of no use to him. I weigh upon him, and he 
 does not want to be in dishonorable relationship with me. 
 He said, yesterday, he wanted the divorce, so as to burn 
 his ships. Perhaps he loves me still, but how? The 
 zest is gone," she said, in English, as she looked at a 
 ruddy-faced man riding by on a hired horse. 
 
 " Da! there is nothing about me any longer to his taste. 
 If I leave him, he will rejoice in the bottom of his heart." 
 
 This was not mere hypothesis : she saw things now 
 clearly, as by a sort of clairvoyance.
 
 720 ANNA 
 
 " My love has been growing more and more selfish and 
 passionate : his has been growing fainter and fainter. That 
 is why we cannot go on together. He is all in all to me. I 
 struggle to draw him closer and closer to me, and he wants 
 to fly from me. Up to the time of our union, we flew to 
 meet each other ; but now we move apart. He accuses me 
 of being absurdly jealous, and lam; and yet 1 am not, 
 either. I am not jealous, but my love is no longer satis- 
 fied. But" she opened her mouth to speak, and, in the 
 excitement caused by the stress of her thoughts, she changed 
 her place in the carriage. 
 
 " If I could, I would try to be a simple friend to him, and 
 not a passionate mistress, whom his coldness frenzies ; but 
 I cannot transform myself. I am not mistaken. Don't I 
 know that he would not deceive me, that he is no longer in 
 love with Kitty, that he has no intention of marrying the 
 Princess Sorokina? I know it well, but it is none the 
 easier for me. But what is that to me? If he is tired 
 of my love, if, when he does not feel for me just what I 
 feel for him, I would, a thousand times, rather have him 
 hate me. This is hell ! And this is the case. He has long 
 ceased to love me. When love ceases, disgust begins. I 
 don't know these streets at all. What hosts of houses ! and 
 in them, people, people, no end of them! and they all 
 hate each other ! 
 
 "Nu! what could happen to me now that would give me 
 happiness again? Suppose that Ah'kse"i Aleksandrovitch 
 should consent to the divorce, and would give me back Se- 
 rozha, and that I should marry Vronsky?" And as she 
 thought of Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, Anna could see him 
 before her, with his dull, lifeless, faded eyes, his white, blue- 
 veined hands, and his cracking joints ; and the idea of their 
 relation to one another, which had hitherto been tinged with 
 tenderness, made her shudder. 
 
 " Nu! Suppose I were married, would not Kitty still look 
 at me as she looked at me to-day ? Would not Serozha ask 
 and wonder why I had two husbands? But between me and 
 Vronsky what new feeling could I imagine ? Is it possible 
 that our relations might be, if not pleasanter, at least no 
 worse than they are now? No, and no ! " she replied, with- 
 out the least hesitation. "Impossible! We are growing 
 apart; and I am disagreeable to him, and he displeases me. 
 and I cannot change him : every means has been tried. . . .
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 721 
 
 Da! there's a beggar with a child. She thinks she inspires 
 pity. Were we not thrown into the world to hate each other, 
 and to torment ourselves and everybody else? Here come 
 the schoolboys out to play! Serozha?" It reminded her 
 of her sou. " I used to think that I loved him, and I \vas 
 touched by his gentleness. I also lived without him, gave 
 him up for my love, and was not sorry for the change, since 
 I \vas contented with him whom I loved." And she remem- 
 bered with disgust what she called that love. And the clear- 
 ness in which she now saw her own life, as well as the lives 
 of others, delighted her. "Thus am I, and Piotr and the 
 coachman, Feodor, and that merchant, and all people from 
 here to the Volga, wherever these remarks are applicable 
 and everywhere and always," she thought as the carriage 
 stopped in front of the low-roofed station of the Nizhni 
 Novgorod Railroad, and the porter came out to meet her. 
 
 " Shall I book you for Obiralovki? " asked Piotr. 
 
 She had entirely forgotten why she had come, and only by 
 a great effort could she understand what he meant. 
 
 " Yes," she said, handing him her purse ; and taking her 
 little red bag, she got out of the carriage. 
 
 As she entered with the throng, she reviewed all the de- 
 tails of her situation and the plans between which she was 
 halting. And again hope and despair alternately filled her 
 tortured, cruelly palpitating heart. As she sat on the stelli- 
 form divan, she looked with aversion on the people going and 
 coming, they were all her enemies, and thought now of 
 how, when she reached the station, she would write to him, 
 and what she would write, and then how at this very moment 
 he not thinking of her suffering was complaining to his 
 mother of his position, and how she would go to his room, 
 and what she would say to him. The thought that she might 
 yet live happily crossed her brain ; and how hard it was to 
 love and hate him at the same time ! And above all, how 
 her heart was beating, as if to burst its bounds ! 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 A BELL sounded, and some impudent }*oung men of a flashy 
 and vulgar appearance passed before her. Then Piotr, in^ 
 his livery and top-boots, with his dull, good-natured face, 
 crossed the waiting-room, and came up to escort her to the 

 
 722 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 cars. The noisy men about the door stopped talking while 
 she passed out upon the platform ; then one of them made 
 some remark to his neighbor, which was apparently an insult. 
 Anna mounted the high steps, and sat down alone in the com- 
 partment on the dirty sofa which once had been white, and 
 laid her bag beside her on the springy seat. Piotr raised his 
 gold-laced hat, with an inane smile, for a farewell, and de- 
 parted. The saucy conductor shut the door. A woman, 
 deformed, and ridiculously dressed up, followed by a lit- 
 tle girl laughing affectedly, passed below the car-window. 
 Anna looked at her with disgust. The little girl was speak- 
 ing loud in a mixture of Russian and French. 
 
 "That child is grotesque and already self-conscious," 
 thought Anna ; and she seated herself at the opposite win- 
 dow of the empty apartment, to avoid seeing the people. 
 
 A dirty, hunchbacked muzhik passed close to the window, 
 and examined the car-wheels : he wore a cap, from beneath 
 which could be seen tufts of dishevelled hair. "There is 
 something familiar about that hump-backed muzhik," thought 
 Anna ; and suddenly she remembered her nightmare, and drew 
 back frightened towards the car-door, which the conductor was 
 just opening to admit a lady and gentleman. 
 
 " Do you want to get out?" 
 
 Anna did not answer, and under her veil no one could see 
 the terror which paralyzed her. She sat down again. The 
 couple took seats opposite her, and cast stealthy but curious 
 glances at her dress. The husband and wife were obnoxious 
 to her. The husband asked her if she objected to smoking, 
 evidently not for the sake of smoking, but as an excuse for 
 entering into conversation with her. Having obtained her per- 
 mission, he remarked to his wife in French that he felt even 
 more inclined to talk than to smoke. They exchanged stupid 
 remarks, with the hope of attracting Anna's attention, and 
 drawing her into the conversation. Anna clearly saw how 
 they bored each other, how they hated each other. It was 
 impossible not to hate such painful monstrosities. The sec- 
 ond gong sounded, and was followed by the rumble of bag- 
 gage, noise, shouts, laughter. Anna saw so clearly that 
 there was nothing to rejoice at, that this laughter roused her 
 indignation, and she longed to stop her ears. At last the 
 third signal was given, the train started, the locomotive 
 whistled, and the gentleman crossed himself. " It would be 
 interesting to ask him what he meant by that," thought 

 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 723 
 
 Auua, looking at him angrily. Then she looked by the 
 woman's head out of the car-window at the people standing 
 and walking on the platform. The car in which Anna sat 
 moved past the stone walls of the station, the switches, the 
 other cars. The motion became more rapid : the rays of the 
 setting snn slanted into the car-window, and a light breeze 
 played through the slats of the blinds. 
 
 Forgetting her neighbors, Anna breathed in the fresh air, 
 and took up again the course of her thoughts. 
 
 "Da! What was I thinking about? I cannot imagine 
 any situation in which my life could be any thing but one 
 long misery. We are all dedicated to unhappiness : we all 
 know it, and only seek for ways to deceive ourselves. But 
 when you see the truth, what is to be done? " 
 
 %t Reason was given to man, that he might avoid what he 
 dislikes." remarked the woman, in French, apparently de- 
 lighted with her sentence. 
 
 The words fitted in with Anna's thought. 
 
 " To avoid what he dislikes," she repeated ; and a glance 
 at the handsome-faced man, and his thin better half, showed 
 her that the woman looked upon herself as a misunderstood 
 creature, and that her stout husband did not contradict this 
 opinion, but took advantage of it to deceive her. Anna, as 
 it were, read their history, and looked into the most secret 
 depths of their hearts ; but it was not interesting, and she 
 went on with her reflections. 
 
 " Yes, it is very unpleasant to me, and reason was given 
 to avoid it : therefore, it must be done. Why not extinguish 
 the light when it shines on things disgusting to see? But 
 how? Why does the conductor keep hurrying through the 
 car? Why does he shout? Why are there people in this 
 car? Why <lo they speak? What are they laughing at? 
 It is all false, all a lie, all deception, all vanity and vexa- 
 tion." 
 
 When the train reached the station, Anna followed the 
 other passengers, and tried to avoid too rude a contact with 
 the bustling crowd. She hesitated on the platform, trying 
 to recollect why she had come, and to ask herself what she 
 meant to do. All that seemed to her possible before to do, 
 now seemed to her difficult to execute, especially amid this 
 disagreeable crowd. Now the porters came to her, and 
 offered her their services ; now some young men, clattering 
 up and down the platform, and talking loud, observed her
 
 724 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 curiously ; and she knew not where to take refuge. Finally, 
 it occurred to her to stop an official, and ask him if a coach- 
 man had not been there with a letter for Count Vronsky. 
 
 "The Count Vronsky? Just now some one was here. He 
 was inquiring for the Princess Sorokina and her daughter. 
 What kind of a looking man is this coachman? " 
 
 Just then Anna espied the coachman Mikhail, rosy and gay 
 in his elegant blue livery and watch-chain, coming towards 
 her, and carrying a note, immense!}* proud that he had ful- 
 filled his commission. 
 
 Anna broke the seal, and her heart stood still as she read 
 the carelessly written lines : 
 
 "I am very sorry that your note did not find me in Moscow. I 
 shall return at ten o'clock." 
 
 " Yes, that is what I expected," she said to herself, with 
 a sardonic smile. 
 
 " Very good, you can go home," she said to Mikhail. She 
 spoke the words slowly and gently, because her heart beat 
 so that she could scarcely breathe or speak. 
 
 " No, I will not let you make me suffer so," thought she, 
 addressing with a threat, not Vronsky so much as the thought 
 that was torturing her ; and she moved along the platform. 
 Two chamber-maids waiting there turned to look at her, and 
 made audible remarks about her toilet. "Just in st}ie," 
 they said, referring to her lace. The young men would not 
 leave her in peace. They stared at her, and passed her again 
 and again, making their jokes so that she should hear. The 
 station-master came to her, and asked if she was going to 
 take the train. A lad selling kratt did not take his eyes from 
 her. 
 
 " Bozhe mot ! where shall I fly? " she said to herself. 
 
 When she reached the end of the platform, she stopped. 
 Some women and children were there, talking with a man in 
 spectacles, who had probably come to the station to meet 
 them. They, too, stopped, and turned to see -Anna pass by. 
 She hastened her steps. A truck full of trunks rumbled by, 
 making the floor shake so that she felt as if she were on a 
 moving train. 
 
 Suddenly she remembered the man who was run over on 
 the day when she met Vronsky for the first time, and she 
 knew then what was in store for her. With light and swift 
 steps she descended the stairway which led from the pump
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 725 
 
 at the end of the platform down to the rails, and stood 
 very near the train, which was slowly passing by. She 
 looked under the cars, at the chains and the brake, and the 
 high iron wheels, and she tried to estimate with her eye the 
 distance between the fore and back wheels, and the moment 
 when the middle would be in front of her. 
 
 "There," she said, looking at the shadow of the car 
 thrown upon the black coal-dust which covered the sleepers, 
 " there, in the centre, he will be punished, and I shall be 
 delivered from it all, and from myself." 
 
 Her little red travelling-bag caused her to lose the moment 
 when she could throw herself under the wheels of the first 
 car : she could not detach it from her arm. She awaited the 
 second. A feeling like that she had experienced once, just 
 before taking a dive in the river, came over her, and she 
 made the sign of the cross. This familiar gesture called back 
 to her soul, memories of youth and childhood. Life, with 
 its elusive joys, glowed for an instant before her, but she 
 did not take her eyes from the car ; and when the middle, 
 between the two wheels, appeared, she threw away her red 
 bag, drawing her head between her shoulders, and,' with out- 
 stretched hands, threw herself on her knees under the car. 
 She had time to feel afraid. "Where am I? What am I 
 doing? Why?" thought she, trying to draw back; but a 
 great, inflexible mass struck her head, and threw her upon 
 her back. " Lord, forgive me all! " she murmured, feeling 
 the struggle to be in vain. A little muzhik was working 
 on the railroad, mumbling in his beard. And the candle by 
 which she read, as in a book, the fulfilment of her life's work, 
 of its deceptions, its grief, and its torment, flared up with 
 greater brightness than she had ever known, revealing to her 
 all that before was in darkness, then flickered, grew faint, 
 and went out forever.
 
 726 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 PART VIII. 
 
 I. 
 
 Two months had passed by, and though half the summer 
 was gone, Sergei Ivanovitch had not yet made up his miud 
 to leave Moscow. An important event for him had just oc- 
 curred, the publication of his book, entitled, An Essay on 
 the Principles and the Forms of Government in Europe and 
 in Russia, upon which he had been working for six years. 
 The introduction, as well as some fragments from the book, 
 had already appeared in the reviews, and certain parts had 
 been read' by the author to the people of his circle ; but 
 although his work could not be said to possess the charm of 
 novelty, Serge" i Ivanovitch nevertheless expected it to make 
 a sensation. 
 
 Weeks passed by, however, without the least ripple being 
 apparent in the literary world. Some of his scientific friends 
 spoke to Koznuishef about his book, from politeness ; but 
 society was too much pre-occupied with quite different mat- 
 ters, to give the least attention to a publication of this 
 kind. As for the newspapers, months went by, and there was 
 absolute silence, except a squib in ' The Northern Beetle." 
 At length, after three months, a critical article appeared in 
 a journal of importance. Sergei Ivanovitch knew who the 
 author was. He had met him at the house of a friend. 
 
 He was very young, very clever as a writer, but perfectly 
 uneducated. Notwithstanding Serge"! Ivanovitch's disdain 
 of the author, he began to read the article with extraordinary 
 interest. But it proved to be abominable. Evidently, the 
 critic understood the book just exactly as it should not 
 have been understood. The article was merely a selection 
 of extracts, cleverly put together, to demonstrate that the 
 entire book, in spite of its high pretensions, was nothing but 
 a tissue of pompous phrases, and these not always intelli-
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 727 
 
 gible, as the critic's frequent interrogation-points testified. 
 In a word, he tried to show that the author of the work was 
 a perfect ignoramus ; and it was done in such a witty way 
 that Sergei Ivanovitch himself could not deny the wit of it ; 
 but, after all, it was abominable. 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch, in spite of the unusual conscientious- 
 ness with which he examined into the justice of these 
 remarks, did not for a moment think of answering the ridicu- 
 lous errors and blunders ; but he involuntarily remembered 
 how, when he met the young author of the article, he had 
 showed up his ignorance in conversation. He, therefore, 
 understood the animus of the criticism. 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch' s disappointment of seeing the labor of 
 six years, in which he had put his whole soul, pass thus 
 unnoticed, was verv keen ; and his feelings were still more 
 tried, because, now that his book was off his hands, he had 
 nothing especial to occupy the larger part of his time. He 
 w;is bright, well educated, in perfect health, and very active ; 
 and lie did not know how to employ his industry. Conver- 
 sations with callers, visits to the club, and the meetings of 
 committees, took some of his time ; but still, his leisure 
 weighed heavily upon him. 
 
 To his joy just at this time, which was so trying to him, 
 and after his interest in American subjects, foreign famines, 
 expositions, spiritualism, was exhausted, the Slavic question 
 began to engross public attention ; and Sergei Ivanovitch, 
 who had been one of its earliest advocates, gave himself up 
 to it with enthusiasm. 
 
 Among Sergei Ivanovitch's friends nothing else was 
 thought about or talked about except the Serbian war. All 
 the things that lazy people are accustomed to do was done 
 for the help of these brother Slavs. Balls, concerts, din- 
 ners, the names of matches, ladies' finery, beer, bar-rooms, 
 every thing was significantly sympathetic for the Slavs. 
 
 With much that was said and written on this subject, Sergei 
 Ivanovitch could not agree. He saw that the Slav question 
 was one of those fashionable movements that always carry 
 people to extremes. He saw that many people with petty 
 personal ends in view took part in it. He recognized that 
 the newspapers made many useless and exaggerated state- 
 ments, in order to attract attention to themselves, and be- 
 little their rivals. He saw that in this common impulse of 
 society, upstarts put themselves forward, and outdid each
 
 T28 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 other in showing absurd and abominable things, com- 
 manders-iu-chief without an army, ministers without a min- 
 istry, -journalists without a journal, party-leaders without 
 partisans. He saw much that was childish and absurd ; but 
 he also saw and admired the enthusiasm which united all 
 classes, and which it was impossible not to share. The mas- 
 sacre of the Serbians, who professed the same faith, and 
 spoke almost the same language, aroused sympathy for their 
 sufferings, and indignation against their persecutors ; and the 
 heroism of the Serbs and Montenegrins, who were fighting 
 for a great cause, caused a universal desire to help their 
 brethren, not only in word, but in deed. 
 
 But there was another phenomenon which delighted Ser- 
 gi Ivanovitch especially. This was the manifestation of 
 public opinion. Society actually spoke out its desires. 
 "The national soul was moved," as Serge" i Ivanovitch ex- 
 pressed it ; and the more he studied this movement as a 
 whole, the more vast it seemed to him, and destined to mark 
 an epoch in the history of Russia. 
 
 He devoted himself to the service of this great cause, and 
 forgot all about his book. All his time now was so occupied 
 that he could scarcely reply to the letters and demands made 
 upon him. 
 
 He worked all the spring and a part of the summer, and 
 it was only in the month of July that he could tear himself 
 away from his new employments to go to his brother in the 
 country. 
 
 He went for a fortnight's vacation, and rejoiced to find, 
 even in the depths of the country, in the very holy of holies 
 of the peasantry, the same awakening of the national spirit 
 in which he himself and all the inhabitants of the capital and 
 the large cities of the empire firmly believed. 
 
 Katavasof seized the opportunity to fulfil a promise he 
 had made to visit Levin, and the two friends left town the 
 same day. 
 
 II & III. 
 
 WHEN Serge"! Ivanovitch and Katavasof reached the Kursk 
 Railroad station, they found a large throng of enthusiastic 
 people, who were accompanying a number of volunteers and 
 their friends. Ladies carrying bouquets attended the heroes 
 of the hour, to say good-by ; and the crowd followed them.
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 729 
 
 One of the ladies armed with bouquets was in the station, 
 and addressed Sergei Ivauovitch. 
 
 " Did you also come to see the sight? " she asked, speak- 
 ing iu French. 
 
 No: I am going myself, princess; that is, to have a 
 little rest at my brother's. But are }'ou still on eecort duty ? " 
 he added, with a smile of amusement. 
 
 " I have to. But tell me, is it true that we have sent off 
 eight hundred already? Malvinsky told me so." 
 
 " We've sent off more than a thousand, if we count those 
 not immediately from Moscow." 
 
 " Nu, vot! I said so ! " cried the lady, delighted. " And 
 the subscriptions? Do they not amount to nearly a mil- 
 lion? " 
 
 k - More than that, princess." 
 
 " Have you read the news? They have beaten the Turks 
 again." 
 
 ' Yes. I read about it." And they began to talk about 
 their acquaintances who had volunteered. 
 
 kk Do you know Count Vronsky, the famous, is going on 
 this train? " said the princess, with a triumphant and signi- 
 ficant smile. 
 
 " I knew that he was going : I heard it, but I did not know 
 when." 
 
 " I just saw him. He is here. His mother is the only one 
 with him. All things considered, I do not think he could do 
 any thing better." 
 
 "Oh, yes! Of course." 
 
 During this conversation, the crowd had rushed into the 
 restaurant of the station, where a man, with a glass in his 
 hand, was making an address to the volunteers : 
 
 tk For the service of our faith and humanity and our breth- 
 ren," he said, raising his voice, " Matushka Moskva [Moth- 
 er Moscow] gives you her blessing in this noble cause. May 
 it prosper ! " he concluded, with tears in his eyes. The crowd 
 responded with cheers ; and a fresh throng poured into the 
 waiting-room, nearly overwhelming the princess. 
 
 "Ah, princess! What do you say to this?" cried Ste- 
 pan Arkady evitch, who, with a radiant smile of joy, was 
 working his way through the crowd. " Didn't he speak 
 gloriously? Bravo! And here's Serge"! Ivauuitch. You 
 ought to speak just a few words, you know, of encourage- 
 ment, you do it so well," added Oblonsky, touching Koznui-
 
 730 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 
 
 shef 8 ann, with an expression of suave, flattering defer- 
 ence. 
 
 " Oh, no ! I'm going off, right away." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " To the country, to my brother's." 
 
 " Then you'll see my wife. I wrote her, but you'll see her 
 before she gets my letter. Please tell her that you met me, 
 and every thing is all right : she will understand. Tell her, 
 too, that I got my place as member of the Commission of 
 JVw, da! she knows what that is, you know, les petites mi- 
 s&res cle la vie humaine " [the little miseries of human life], 
 said he, turning to the princess, as though in apology. 
 " Miagkaia, not Liza, but Bibiche, sends a thousand guns 
 and twelve hospital nurses. Did I tell you? " 
 
 " Yes : I heard about it," answered Koznuishef coldly. 
 
 "But what a pity you are going away," replied Stepan 
 Arkadyevitch. " We give a farewell dinner to-morrow to 
 two volunteers, Dimer Bartuyansky of Petersburg, and 
 our Veslovsky. Both are going. Veslovsky is just married. 
 He's a flue lad. Isn't it so, princess? " 
 
 The princess did not reply, but looked at Koznuishef. The 
 fact that the princess and Sergei Ivanovitch evidently wanted 
 to get rid of him did not in the least disconcert him. He. 
 went on chatting ; and as he saw a lady going by with a 
 subscription-box, he beckoned to her, and handed her a five- 
 ruble note. 
 
 " I can't bear to see these subscription-boxes pass by me, 
 now that I am flush," he said. 
 
 \\liatsplendiduews there is! Hurrah for the Monte- 
 negrins ! " 
 
 " What's that you say?" he cried, when the princess told 
 him that Vronsky was going by the first train. A shade of 
 sadness passed over his merry face ; but he soon forgot the 
 tears he had shed over his sister's grave, and saw in Vron- 
 sky only a hero and an old friend. He hastened away to 
 find him. 
 
 "One must do him justice, in spite of his faults," said 
 the princess, when Stepan Arkadyevitch was gone. " He 
 has the true Russian, the Slavic, nature. But I am afraid it 
 will give the count no pleasure to see him. Whatever people 
 may say, I pity that unhappy man. Try to talk a little with 
 him on the journey," said the princess. 
 
 " Certainly, if I have a chance. I never liked him, but
 
 ANNA EARtfNINA. 731 
 
 what he is doing now makes up for much wrong-doing. 
 You know, he's taking out a squadron of cavalry at his own 
 expense? " 
 
 The bell rang, and the crowd pressed towards the doors. 
 
 "There he is," said the princess, pointing out Vronsky, 
 who was dressed in a long coat and a broad-brimmed black 
 hat. His mother was leaning on his arm. Oblousky fol- 
 lowed them, talking vivacious^. 
 
 Vronsky was frowning, and looked straight ahead, as 
 though loath to hear what Stepan Arkady evitch said. 
 
 Apparently atOblonsky's suggestion, he turned to the side 
 where Sergei Ivanovitch and the princess were standing, and 
 raised his hat silently. His face, which had grown old and 
 worn, was like stone. He instantly disappeared in the train. 
 
 On the platform, men were singing the national hymn. 1 
 Then hurrahs and vivas resounded. A young volunteer, 
 with a tall figure, stooping shoulders, and an invalid air, 
 ostentatiously responded to the public, waving above his head 
 a felt hat and a bouquet ; while behind him, two officers, and 
 an elderly man in an old cap, bowed a more modest farewell. 
 
 After Koznuishef had taken leave of the princess, he and 
 Katavasof , who had just joined him, entered a car which was 
 crowded with people ; and the train started. At the next 
 station, the national hymn, sung by a choir of young men, 
 saluted the volunteers, and the}" responded in the same wa}' ; 
 but these orations and the type of the volunteers were too 
 well known to Sergei Ivanovitch to awaken the least curiosity 
 in him. Katavasof, on the other hand, whose studious habits 
 kept him away from such scenes, was much interested, and 
 questioned his companion about the volunteers. 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch advised him to look into their car, and 
 talk with some of them. At the next station, Katavasof fol- 
 lowed this advice. As soon as the train stopped, he went 
 into the second-class car, and made the acquaintance of the 
 volunteers. Some of them were seated in a corner of the car, 
 talking noisily, aware that they were attracting the attention 
 of the other passengers and of Katavasof. The tall, round- 
 shouldered young man was talking louder than the others. 
 He was evidently very drunk, and was telling a story. Op- 
 posite him sat an old officer in Austrian uniform. He was 
 listening with a smile to the narrator, and occasionally 
 prompting him. A third volunteer, in an artillery uniform, 
 
 1 "ohe Tsara Khrani."
 
 732 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 was sitting on a box near them. A fourth was asleep. Ka- 
 tavasof entered into conversation with the youth, and learned 
 that he had been a rich merchant in Moscow, who, when 
 scarcely twenty-two years old, had succeeded in squandering 
 a considerable fortune. Katavasof did not like him, because 
 he was effeminate, conceited, and sickl} r . He evidently felt, 
 especially now that he was drunk, that he was doing a 
 heroic deed ; and he boasted in the most disagreeable manner. 
 The next officer also impressed Katavasof unpleasantly ; he 
 had tried all trades ; he had worked on a railroad, and had 
 been director of an estate, and had built a factory ; and he 
 talked of every thing without any necessity of doing so, and 
 often used words that showed his ignorance. 
 
 The third, the artillery-man, on the contrary, pleased Kata- 
 vasof very much by his modesty and gentleness. He was 
 evidently disgusted by the affected knowledge of the retired 
 officer and the young merchant's boasted heroism, and he 
 would say nothing about himself. When Katavasof asked him 
 what induced him to go to Serbia, he answered modestly, 
 
 "I'm going, like every one else. We must help the Ser- 
 bians. It is too bad." 
 
 " Da! They have very few artillery-men." 
 
 " Mr service in the artillery was very short. I may be 
 assigned to the infantry or the cavalry." 
 
 " Why in the infantry when they need artillery-men more 
 than all ? ' ' asked Katavasof. 
 
 "I did not serve very long in the artillery, but left the 
 service when I was a boy." And he began to explain why 
 he had not passed his examination. 
 
 The general impression which these officers produced was 
 not very favorable. An elderh" man in a military overcoat 
 had been listening to Katavasof 's talk with them, and seemed 
 scarcely more edified. He and the professor exchanged 
 views. The old man was a soldier who had fought in two 
 campaigns, and he knew what it meant to go to war : and in 
 the actions and words of these gentlemen, the bravery with 
 which they applied themselves to the flask, he read their in- 
 feriority as soldiers. But in the excitement, it would have 
 been imprudent to express himself frankly. When Kata- 
 vasof asked the old soldier how the volunteers impressed 
 him, a smile came into his eyes, and he limited his reply to 
 the remark, 
 
 "What would you have? Somebody must go." And,
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 733 
 
 without confiding to each other their mutual opinions on this 
 subject, they talked over the most recent war news, including 
 the famous battle where the Turks, according to the reports, 
 were beaten at every point. 
 
 When Katavasof returned to his car, he told Sergei Ivan- 
 ovitch, with some twinges of conscience, that he enjoyed 
 talking with the volunteers, and he declared that they were 
 excellent lads. In the great station where the}' next stopped, 
 the chorus, the cheers, the bouquets, and the beggars again 
 appeared, and again the ladies with bouquets took the volun- 
 teers into the restaurant ; but there was much less enthusiasm 
 than there had been at Moscow. 
 
 IV. 
 
 WHILE the train stopped, Sergei Ivanovitch did not go to 
 the restaurant, but walked up and down the platform. 
 
 The first time that he passed Vronsky's compartment, he 
 saw that the blinds were down. When he passed the second 
 time, he saw the old countess at the window, and she called 
 him. 
 
 " You see, I am going as far as Kursk with him." 
 
 " I heard so," answered Koznuishcf, stopping at the win- 
 dow, and looking in. " What a noble action on his part! " 
 he added, seeing that Vronsky was not in the car. 
 
 " Da! What could he do after his misfortune? " 
 
 " What a horrible thing it was ! " 
 
 "Ach! What have I not been through ! Da! Come 
 in. Ach! What have I not been through!" she re- 
 peated, as Serge" i Ivanovitch came in and sat down on the 
 sofa beside her. " You could not imagine it. For six weeks 
 he never said a word to any one, and he only ate because I 
 begged him. We dared not leave him alone a single instant : 
 we feared he would try to kill himself. We lived on the first 
 floor, but we had to look out just the same. You know he 
 came near it once before, for her sake. Yes," said the old 
 countess, her face clouding at this remembrance, "that woman 
 died as was tit for such a woman to die. Her death was low 
 and wretched." 
 
 "It is not for us to judge her, countess," replied Serge"i 
 Ivanovitch, with a sigh. " But 1 can imagine what you have 
 suffered."
 
 734 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 "Aeh! Don't speak of it! My son was with me at my 
 country-place. A note was brought him. He answered 
 immediately. We did not know at all that she was at the 
 station. That evening I had just gone to my room, and my 
 Mary told me that a lady had thrown herself under the train. 
 I understood instantly what had happened : I knew it must 
 be she. My first words were, ' Let no one tell the count.' 
 But they had just told him. His coachman was at the station 
 when it happened, and saw it all. I ran to my son's room. 
 He was like a madman : it was terrible to see him. Without 
 speaking one word, he left the house ; and what he found, 
 I do not know ; but they brought him back like one dead. I 
 should never have known him. 'Prostration compete,' the 
 doctor said. Then he became almost insane. Ach! What 
 can be said?" cried the countess, waving her hands. "It 
 was a terrible time. No : let people say what they will, she 
 was a bad woman. Nu! What a fearful passion she was 
 in ! It was to prove something or other in an extraordinary 
 way, and she proved it ! She has spoiled life for two splen- 
 did men, her husband and my son, and ruined herself." 
 
 " What did the husband do? " 
 
 "He has taken the little girl. At first Alosha consented 
 to every thing : now he repents having given up his daugh- 
 ter to a stranger ; but could he take charge of her? Karc'nin 
 went to the funeral, but we succeeded in preventing a meet- 
 ing between him and Alosha. For him, that is, her hus- 
 band, this death is a deliverance ; but my poor son gave up 
 every thing for her, sacrificed every thing. me, his position, 
 his career, and she was not contented with that, but wanted 
 to ruin him besides. No ! whatever you may say, her death 
 is the death of a bad woman, a woman without religion. 
 May God forgive me ! but when I think of the harm she has 
 done my son, I cannot help cursing her memory." 
 *" How is he now ? " 
 
 " This is our salvation, this Serbian war. I am old, don't 
 understand much about it ; but God sent it. Of course, as 
 his mother, it is painful ; and besides, they say ce n'est pas 
 tr&s bien vu & Petersburg" [it is not much approved of] ; 
 but what can be done about it? This one thing saved him. 
 Yashvin, his friend, gambled away all he had, and enlisted. 
 He came to Alosha, and persuaded him to go to Serbia with 
 him. Now this is occupying him. Do talk with him, T beg 
 of you, he is so sad. Da! and besides his other troubles,
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 735 
 
 he has a toothache. But he will be glad to see you. Please 
 talk with him. He is walking up and down on the other side 
 of the track." 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch said that he would be very glad to talk 
 with the count, and went over to the side where Vronsky 
 was. 
 
 V. 
 
 Ix the shadow of a heap of baggage piled on the platform, 
 Vronsky, in his long overcoat and slouch hat, with his hands 
 in his pockets, was walking, like a wild beast in a cage, up 
 and down a narrow space where he could not take more than 
 a score of steps. It seemed to Sergei Ivanovitch, as he drew 
 near, that he saw him, but pretended not to recognize him. 
 But to Sergei Ivanovitch, this was all the same. He stood 
 above any petty susceptibility. 
 
 At tin* moment, Vronsky. in his eyes, was fulfilling a grand 
 mission, and he ought to be sustained and encouraged. He 
 approached the count. Vronsky stopped, looked at him, 
 recognized him, and. taking a few steps to meet him, cor- 
 dially held out his hand. 
 
 ' Perhaps you would prefer not to see me," said Sergei 
 Ivanovitch ; l ' but can I be of any service to you? " 
 
 "No one could be less unpleasant for me to meet than 
 you," answered Vronsky. ' Pardon me. There is nothing 
 pleasant for me in life." 
 
 " I understand, and I want to offer you my services," said 
 Koznuishef, struck by the deep suffering in the count's face. 
 ' Might not a letter to Ristitch or Milan be of some use to 
 you?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! " answered Vronsky, making an effort to un- 
 derstand. 4i If it is all the same to you, we will walk a little. 
 It is so close in the cars ! .A letter? No, thank you. Does 
 one need letters of introduction to get one's self killed? In 
 this case, one to the Turks, perhaps," added he, with a 
 smile at the corners of his mouth. His eyes kept the same 
 expression of bitter sadness. 
 
 ' Da! It would make it easier for you to come into rela- 
 tions with men prepared for action. Still, as you please ; 
 but I was very glad to learn of your decision. The very 
 fact that a man of your standing has joined the volunteers, 
 will raise them above all cavil in the public estimation."
 
 736 ANNA KAR1&NINA. 
 
 " My sole merit," replied Vronsky, " is, that life is of no 
 value to me. As to phj'sical energy, I know it will not be 
 wanting for any purpose ; and I am glad enough to give my 
 life, which is not only useless to me, but disgusting, to be 
 useful to somebody : " and he made an impatient motion of 
 his face, caused by his unceasing toothache. 
 
 "You will be born over again, is my prediction," said 
 Sergei Ivanovitch. His feelings were touched. " The deliv- 
 erance of one's oppressed brethren is an aim for which one 
 might as well live as die. May God grant you full success, 
 and fill your soul with peace!" he added, and held out his 
 hand. 
 
 Vronsky pressed his hand cordially. 
 
 " As a field-piece, I may be of use. But as a man, I 
 am only a ruin," murmured the count, with intervals between 
 the phrases. The steady pain in his tooth made it an 
 effort for him to speak. He stopped ; and his eyes fixed 
 themselves mechanically on the engine-wheel, which ad- 
 vanced, revolving slowly and regularly on the rails. And 
 suddenly another, not pain, but a sensation of intense inward 
 torture, caused him to forget for a moment the pain of his 
 tooth. At the sight of the engine and the rails, through 
 the influence of his talk with an acquaintance whom he 
 had not seen since his grief, a sudden memory awakened 
 in him. Instantly she appeared to him, or, at least, all 
 that remained of her, when he rushed like a maniac into 
 the freight-house, where they had carried her. There, on 
 a table, shamelessl}- exposed to the sight of all, lay her 
 blood-stained body, which had so lately been full of life. 
 Her head was uninjured, with its heavy braids, and its light 
 curls about the temples ; it was thrown back : and in the 
 lovely face, with half-closed eyes, and her rosy lips parted, 
 hovered still that strange and wild expression, as though her 
 mouth were ready once again to pronounce their terrible 
 threat, and warn him, as during their last quarrel, " that he 
 would repent." 
 
 And he tried to remember how she looked when he first 
 met her, also at a railroad station, with that mysterious, 
 poetic, chai'ming beauty, overflowing with life and gayety, 
 enjoying and bestowing happiness. But he saw only her 
 face, haughtily expressing her threat of unnecessaty but im- 
 placable vengeance. He tried to remember the happiest 
 moments that he had spent with her, but those joys of the
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 737 
 
 past remained forever poisoned. Sobs shook his whole 
 frame. 
 
 After walking up and down by the baggage once or twice, 
 the count controlled himself, and spoke calmly with Sergei 
 I vanovitch. 
 
 "Did you hear the latest telegrams? Yes: they have 
 fought three times, and probably there will be another battle 
 to-morrow." And after a few words about King Milan's 
 proclamation, and the consequences which it might have, 
 the two men separated at the ringing of the bell. 
 
 VI. 
 
 As Serge" i Ivanovitch had not known just when it would be 
 possible for him to leave Moscow, he did not telegraph his 
 brother to send for him. Levin was not at home when he 
 and Katavasof, black as negroes with smoke and dust, 
 reached Pokrovsky about noon, in a tarantds which they 
 hired at the station. 
 
 Kitty was sitting on the balcony with her father and sister 
 when she saw her brother-in-law approaching, and she ran 
 to meet him. 
 
 "Your conscience ought to prick you for not letting us 
 know," said she. shaking hands with Serge"! Ivanovitch. 
 
 We got along splendidly, and we did not have to bother 
 you. I am so dusty, that I don't dare to touch you. 
 And here is our friend, Feodor Vasilitch, who has come at 
 last." 
 
 " But I am not a negro. When I have washed, I shall 
 look like a human being," said Katavasof, laughing; and 
 his white teeth gleamed out from his dusty face. 
 
 ' Kostia will be veiy glad. He is out ou the farm, but he 
 will be back before long." 
 
 " Always at his farming, while the rest of us can think of 
 nothing but the war with Serbia. Nu ! how does 1113- friend 
 regard this subject? he is sure not to think as other people 
 do." 
 
 " Yes, he does, but perhaps not like everybody," said 
 Kitty, a little confused, looking at Sergei Ivanovitch. "I 
 will send some one to find him. We have papa with us just 
 now : he has come back from abroad.". 
 
 And the young wife, enjoying her power of quick motion,
 
 738 ANNA 
 
 from which she had been so long debarred, hastened to make 
 her guests comfortable, to let her husband and Dolly know 
 of their arrival, and to tell her father, who was sitting on 
 the balcony. 
 
 " It's Sergei Ivanovitch and Professor Katavasof." 
 
 " Och ! in this heat ! It will be terrible ! " 
 
 " Not at all, papa : he is very nice, and Kostia loves him 
 dearly," said Kitty, laughing at the expression of conster- 
 nation on her father's face. 
 
 "Go entertain them, diishenka," she said to her sister. 
 "They saw Stiva at the station: he was well. And I am 
 going to the baby for a little while. I actually have not 
 nursed him since morning: he will be crying if I don't go," 
 and she hurried to the nursery. She felt that the baby was 
 needing her, and she was not mistaken. He was crying at 
 the top of his voice. She heard his voice, and quickened 
 her steps. But the more she hurried, the louder he cried. 
 It was a fine, healthy scream, a scream of hunger and impa- 
 tience. 
 
 "I am late, nurse, late," said Kitty, sitting down, and 
 getting ready to suckle the child. "Da! give him to me, 
 give him to me, quick. Ach, nurse ! how stupid ! Nu! take 
 off his cap afterwards," said she, quite as impatient as her 
 baby. 
 
 The baby screamed as though it were famished. "Da / 
 it can't be helped, mdtushka," said Agafya Mikha'ilovna. who 
 could not keep out of the nursery. " You must do things 
 in order. Agu, agu," she chuckled to the infant, not heed- 
 ing Kitty's impatience. 
 
 The nurse gave the child to his mother. Agafya Mikhm- 
 lovna followed the child, her face all aglow with tenderness. 
 
 " He knows me ! He knows me ! God is my witness, he 
 knew me, mdtushka Katerina Aleksandrovna." she cried. 
 
 But Kitty did not hear what she said. Her impatience 
 was as great as the baby's. It hindered the very thing that 
 they both desired. The bab}-, in his haste to suckle, could 
 not manage to take hold, and was vexed. At last, after one 
 final shriek of despair, the arrangements were perfected ; and 
 mother and child, simultaneously breathing a sigh of content, 
 became calm. 
 
 " The poor little thing is all in a perspiration," whispered 
 Kitty. "Do you really thfnk he knew you?" she added, 
 looking down into the child's eyes, which seemed to her to
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 739 
 
 peep out roguishly from under his cap as his little cheeks 
 sucked in and out, while his little hand, with rosy palm, 
 flourished around his head. "-It cannot be. For, if he 
 knew you, he would surely know me," continued Kitty, with 
 a smile, when Agafya Mikhailovna persisted in her belief that 
 he knew her. 
 
 She smiled, because, though she said that he could not 
 recognize her, yet she knew in her heart that he not only 
 recognized Agafya Mikhailovna, but that he knew and under- 
 stood all things, and knew and understood what no one else 
 understood, and things which she. his mother, was now begin- 
 ning to understand, only through his teaching. For Agafya 
 Mikhailovna, for the nurse, for his grandfather, even for his 
 fatlu-r. Mitya was just a little human being, who needi-d 
 nothing but physical care; for his mother, he was a being 
 endowed with moral faculties, and she could read the whole 
 history of his spiritual relationship. 
 
 You will see if he doesn't when he wakes up," insisted 
 the old woman. 
 
 ' XH! very well, very well, we will see; now go away; 
 he is going to sleep." 
 
 VII. 
 
 AGAFY.V MIKFIAILOVNA went away on tiptoe : the nurse 
 chased away the flies which had been hidden under the mus- 
 lin curtain of the cradle, and closed the blinds ; then she sat 
 down, and began to wave a little withered branch over the 
 mother and child. 
 
 It's hot, hot! pray God, he may send a little shower," 
 she said. 
 
 ''Da! da! sh-sh-sh," was the mother's reply, as she 
 rocked gently to and fro, and pressed Mitya to her br.-ast. 
 His eyelids now opened, and now closed ; and he languidly 
 moved his chubby arm. This little arm disturbed Kitty : she 
 felt a strong inclination to kiss it, but she feared to do so 
 lest it should wake him. At last the arm began to droop, 
 and the eyes closed more and more. Only rarely now he 
 would raise his long lashes, and gaze at his mother with his 
 dark, dewy eyes. The nurse began to nod, and dropped off 
 into a nap. Overhead she could hear the old prince's voice, 
 and Katavasof's sonorous laugh. 
 
 " Evidently, they don't need me to help in the conversa-
 
 740 ANNA KAKtiNINA. 
 
 tion," thought Kitty: " but it is too bad that Kostia is not 
 there ; he must have gone to his bees. Sometimes it dis- 
 turbs me to have him spend so much time over them ; but 
 then, on the whole, I am glad : it diverts him, and he is cer- 
 tainly more cheerful than he was in the spring. At Moscow, 
 he was so blue, and such a martyr ! What a strange man he 
 is!" 
 
 Kitty knew what caused her husband's disquiet. It was 
 his doubting spirit ; and although, if she had been asked if 
 she believed that in the world to come, he would fail of 
 salvation owing to his want of faith, she would have been 
 compelled to say yes, yet his scepticism did not make her 
 unhappy ; and she, who believed that there was no salvation 
 for the unbelieving, and loved more than all else in the world 
 her husband's soul, smiled as she thought of his scepticism, 
 and called him a strange man. 
 
 " Why does he spend all his time reading those philosophi- 
 cal books, which do not help him at all? He himself says 
 that he longs for faith. Why doesn't he believe? Probably 
 he thinks too much ; and he thinks too much because he is 
 lonely. He is always alone. He can't speak out all his 
 thoughts to us. I think he will be glad that these guests 
 have come, especially Katavasof. He likes to discuss with 
 him." 
 
 And immediately Kitty's thoughts were diverted by the 
 question where it would be best for Katavasof to sleep. 
 Ought he and Sergei Ivanovitch to have a room together, or 
 apart? And here a sudden thought made her start almost 
 enough to disturb Mitya. 
 
 "The washerwoman hasn't brought back the linen. I 
 hope Agafya Mikhailovna hasn't given out all we had! " 
 and the color rushed to Kitty's forehead. 
 
 " Da! I must find out myself," thought she; and she 
 began again thinking about her husband. 
 
 "Yes, Kostia is a sceptic," again she thought, with a 
 smile. " Nu! he is a sceptic ; but I love him better so than if 
 he were like Madame Stahl, or like me when I was at Sodeu. 
 He will never be hypocritical." 
 
 An instance of her husband's goodness came back vividly 
 to her memory. Several weeks before, Stepan Arkadyevitch 
 had written a letter of repentance to his wife. He begged 
 her to save his honor by selling her property to pay his 
 debts.
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 741 
 
 Dolly was in despair. She felt that she hated her hus- 
 band, despised him ; and at first she made up her mind to 
 refuse his request, and apply for a divorce : but afterwards 
 relenting, she decided to sell a part of her estate. Kitty, 
 with a smile, recalled her husband's confusion when he con- 
 sulted with her in regard to helping Dolly, and how, at last, 
 he came to the conclusion that the only way to accomplish it 
 without wounding her was to make over to Dolly their part 
 of this estate. 
 
 " How can he be without faith, when he has such a warm 
 heart, and is afraid to grieve even a child? He never thinks 
 of himself, always of others. Sergei Ivanovitch finds it 
 perfectly natural to consider him his business manager : so 
 does his sister. Dolly and her children have no one else but 
 him to lean upon. He is always sacrificing his time to the 
 peasants, Avho come to consult him every day." 
 
 kt Yes : you cannot do better than to try to be like your 
 father," she murmured, touching her lips to her son's cheek, 
 before laying him into the nurse's arms. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 EVER since that moment when, as he sat beside his dying 
 brother, Levin had examined the problem of life and death 
 in the light of the new convictions, as he called them, which 
 from the age of twenty to thirty-four years had taken the 
 place of his childhood's beliefs, he was terrified not only 
 at death, but at life ; because it seemed to him that he had 
 not the slightest knowledge of its origin, its purpose, its rea- 
 son, its nature. Our organism and its destruction, the in- 
 destructibility of matter, the laws of the conservation and 
 development of forces, were words which were substituted 
 for the terms of his early faith. These words, and the sci- 
 entific theories connected with them, were doubtless interest- 
 ing from an intellectual point of view, but they stood for 
 nothing in the face of real life. 
 
 And Levin, like a man who in cold weather had exchanged 
 his warm shuba for a muslin garment, felt, not with his rea- 
 son, but with his whole being, that he was absolutely naked, 
 and inevitably destined to perish miserably. 
 
 From that time, without in the least changing his outward
 
 742 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 life, and though he did not like to confess it even to himself, 
 Levin never ceased to feel a terror of his ignorance. 
 
 More than all, he felt with shame that what he called his 
 convictions, not only came from his ignorance, but were idle 
 for helping him to a clearer knowledge of what he needed. 
 
 Marriage, with its joys and its new duties, completely 
 blotted out these thoughts ; but they came back to him with 
 increasing persistence after his wife's confinement, when he 
 lived in Moscow without any serious occupation. 
 
 The question presented itself to him in this way : " If I 
 do not accept the explanations offered me by Christianity on 
 the problem of my existence, where shall I find others?" 
 And he scrutinized the whole arsenal of his scientific con- 
 victions, and found no answer whatsoever to his questions. 
 
 He was in the position of a man who seeks to find food in 
 a toy-store or a gun-shop. 
 
 Involuntarily and unconsciously he sought now in every 
 book, in every conversation, and in every person whom he 
 met, some sympathy with the subject which absorbed him. 
 More than by any thing else, he was surprised and puzzled 
 by the fact that the men of his class, who for the most part 
 had, like himself, substituted science for religion, seemed to 
 experience not the least moral suffering, but to live entirely 
 satisfied and content. Were they not sincere? Or did sci- 
 ence give to them a clearer answer to these troublesome ques- 
 tions? And he took to studying these men, and the books 
 which might contain the solutions which he so desired. 
 
 He discovered, however, that he had made a gross error in 
 taking up with the idea of his university friends, that religion 
 had outlived its day, and no longer existed. The best peo- 
 ple whom he knew were believers, the old prince, Lvof, 
 of whom he was so fond, Sergei Ivanovitch, and all women, 
 had faith ; and his wife believed just as he had believed 
 when he was a child, and nine-tenths of the Russian people 
 all people whose lives inspired the greatest respect were 
 believers. 
 
 Another strange thing was, that, as he read many books, 
 he became convinced that the materialists whose opinions he 
 shared, did not attach to these opinions any individual or 
 personal importance. They were far from explaining these 
 questions, without an answer to which life seemed to him 
 impossible : they threw these aside, to take up others which 
 were to him utterly uninteresting, such, for example, as the
 
 ANNA KAS&NINA. 743 
 
 development of the organism, the mechanical explanation of 
 the soul, and others. 
 
 Moreover, at the time of his wife's illness, he had a most 
 extraordinary experience : he, the unbeliever, had prayed, 
 and prayed with sincere faith. But as soon as the danger 
 was over, he felt that he could not give that temporary dis- 
 position any abiding-place in his life. 
 
 He could not avow that the truth appeared to him then, 
 but that he was mistaken now, because, as he began calmly to 
 analyze his feelings, they eluded him. He could not avow 
 that he had been deceived then, because he had experienced 
 a temporary spiritual condition ; and if lie pretended that he 
 had succumbed to a moment of weakness, he would sully a 
 sarivd moment. He was in a sad state of internal conflict, 
 and he strove with all the strength of his nature to free 
 himself from it. 
 
 IX. 
 
 THESE thoughts tormented him with varying intensity, but 
 he could not free himself from them. He read and medi- 
 tated, but the end desired seemed to grow more and more 
 remote. 
 
 During the latter part of his stay in Moscow, and after he 
 reached the country, he became convinced of the uselessness 
 of seeking in materialism an answer to his doubts ; and he 
 read over the philosophers whose explanations of life were 
 opposed to materialism. Plato and Spinoza, and Kant and 
 Sdu-lling, and Hegel and Schopenhauer. 
 
 These satisfied his reason while he was reading, or was 
 contrasting their doctrines with those of others, especialby 
 with those of a materialistic tendency ; but just as soon as 
 he attempted, independently, to apply these guides to some 
 doubtful point, he fell back into the same perplexities as be- 
 foiv. The terms " mind," " will," " freedom," " essence," 
 had a certain meaning to his intellect as long as he followed 
 the clew established by the deductions of these philosophers, 
 and allowed himself to be caught in the snare of their subtile 
 distinctions : but. when practical life asserted its point of 
 view, this artistic structure fell, like a house built of cards ; 
 and it became evident that the edifice was built only of beau- 
 tiful words, having no more connection than logic with the 
 serious side of life.
 
 744 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 Once, as he was reading Schopenhauer, he substituted the 
 term "love" for that which this philosopher calls "will," 
 and this new philosophy gave him a few days of calm. But 
 he quickly saw its fallaciousness. Sergei Ivanovitch advised 
 him to read Khomyakof's theological writings ; and though 
 he was repelled by the excessive affectation of the author's 
 style, and his strong polemic tendency, he was struck by the 
 development of the following thought: "Man when alone 
 cannot attain the knowledge of God. The true light is kept 
 for a communion of souls who are filled with the same love ; 
 that is, for the Church." The thought struck Levin: How 
 much easier he should find it to accept the Church, endowed 
 with holiness and infallibility, since it had God for its head, 
 to accept its teachings as to Creation, the Fall, and Redemp- 
 tion, and through it to reach God, than to fathom for him- 
 self the impenetrable mystery of Divinity, and to explain, in 
 turn, Creation, the Fall, and the rest ! But as he read, after 
 Khomyakof, a history of the Church by a Catholic writer, 
 and the history of the Church b}' an Orthodox writer, and 
 perceived that the Orthodox Greek Church and the Roman- 
 Catholic Church, both of them in their very essence infalli- 
 ble, were antagonistic, he saw that he had been deluded by 
 Khomyakof's church-teachings ; and this edifice also fell 
 into dust, like the constructions of philosophy. 
 
 During this whole spring he was not himself, and passed 
 hours of misery. 
 
 " I cannot live without knowing what I am, and why I 
 exist. Since I cannot reach this knowledge, life is impossi- 
 ble," said Levin to himself. "In the infinitude of time, in 
 the infinitude of matter, in the infinitude of space, an organic 
 cell is formed, exists for a moment, and bursts. That cell 
 is I." 
 
 This was a gloomy sophism ; but it was the sole, the su- 
 \ preme result of the labor of the human mind for centuries. 
 
 It was the final creed upon which were founded the latest 
 researches of the scientific spirit : it was the dominant con- 
 viction ; and Levin, without knowing exactly why, simply 
 because this theory seemed to him the clearest, was involun- 
 tarily held by it. 
 
 But this conclusion seemed more than a sophism. He saw 
 in it the cruel jest of some evil spirit, cruel, inimical, to 
 which it was impossible to submit. 
 
 To get away from it was a duty : deliverance from it was
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 745 
 
 in the power of every one, and the means of deliverance 
 svas death. 
 
 And Levin, the happy father of a family, a man in perfect 
 health, was sometimes so tempted to commit suicide, that he 
 hid ropes from sight, lest he should hang himself, and feared 
 to go out with his gun, lest he should shoot himself. But 
 Levin did not hang himself, or shoot himself, but lived and 
 struggled on. 
 
 X. 
 
 \VHEN Levin puzzled over what he was, and why he was 
 born, he found no answer, and fell into despair; but when 
 he set himself resolutely to work, he ceased to disquiet 
 himself over his ignorance, and the problem of existence. 
 Therefore, he plunged more and more resolutely into the 
 life of every day. 
 
 Towards the end of June he returned to the country : 
 resumed his ordinary work at Pokrovsky. The superintend- 
 ence of the estates of his brother and sister, his relations 
 with his neighbors and* his muzhiks, his family cares, his new 
 enterprise in bee-culture, which he had taken up this year, 
 occupied all his time. These interests occupied him, not 
 because he carried them on with a view to their universal 
 application, as he had done before ; but he contented him- 
 self with fulfilling his new duties simply because it seemed 
 to him that he was irresistibly impelled to do what he did, 
 and could not do otherwise. 
 
 Formerly, when he began to do any thing that was good 
 and useful for all, for humanity, for Russia, he saw that the 
 thought of it gave him, in advance, a pleasing sense of joy ; 
 but the action in itself never realized his hopes. But now, 
 since his marriage, he went straight to the matter in hand ; 
 and. though he had no pleasure at the thought of his activity, 
 he felt a conviction that his work was useful, and the results 
 gained were far more satisfactory than before. 
 
 Now, quite against his will, he cut deeper and deeper into 
 the soil, like a plough that cannot choose its path, or turn 
 from its furrow. 
 
 To live as his fathers and grandfathers had lived, to carry 
 out their work so as to hand it on in turn to his children, 
 seemed to him a plain duty. It was as necessary as the 
 duty of eating when hungry ; and he knew, that, to reach
 
 746 ANNA KAENINA. 
 
 this end, he must leave his patrimonial estate in such a 
 condition, that his son, receiving it in turn, might be as 
 grateful to him as he was to his ancestors for what they had 
 cleared and tilled. He felt that he had no right to leave the 
 management of his estates to the muzhiks, but that he him- 
 self must keep every thing under his own eye, maintain his 
 cattle, fertilize his fields, set out trees. 
 
 It was as impossible not to look out for the interests of 
 Serg6i Ivanovitch and his sister, and all the peasants who 
 came to consult him, as it was to abandon the child who had 
 been given into his hands. He must give his sister-in-law 
 and her children his protection and sympathy, and his wife 
 had a claim upon his time. And all these duties filled to 
 overflowing his life, the meaning of which he could not un- 
 derstand when he reflected on it. 
 
 Not only did Levin see clearly what it was his duty to do, 
 but he saw how he must fulfil it, and what had paramount 
 importance. 
 
 Thus he did not hesitate to hire laborers as cheaply as 
 possible, but he knew he was bound to pay them neither 
 above nor below the market-price, lie advanced money to 
 Piotr, to save him from the claws of a money-lender, who 
 charged him ten per cent a month ; but he made no allow- 
 ance for arrears of rent. He punished severely thefts of 
 wood, but he would have scrupled to impound a peasant's 
 cattle caught in the very act of pasturing on his fields. He 
 stopped the wages of a laborer, compelled, by the death of 
 his father, to quit work in mid-harvest, just as though he 
 had no pity for him ; but he gave board and lodging to old 
 servants who were superannuated. 
 
 Levin felt that it was right, on returning home, to go first 
 to his wife, who was not well, though some muzhiks had 
 been waiting for three hours to see him ; but he would not 
 have been willing to go to his bee-hives before receiving 
 them. 
 
 Whether he did well or ill, he did not know ; and he not 
 only did not tiy to prove it, but he even avoided all thoughts 
 and discussions on the subject. When he reasoned, he 
 doubted, and could not see what it was right to do, or not to 
 do. When he ceased to consider, but simply lived, he never 
 failed to find in his soul an uncompromising judge, which 
 told him what was the best course to take, and which was 
 the worst ; and when he failed to follow this inner voice, he 
 always felt it.
 
 ANNA KAEtiNINA. 747 
 
 Thus he lived, not knowing, and not seeing the possibility 
 of knowing, what he was, or why he lived in the world, and 
 tortured by his ignorance to the point of fearing suicide ; 
 :ui(l yet, at the same time, he resolutely pursued the path of 
 life which had been marked out for him. 
 
 XI. 
 
 THE day on which Sergei Ivanovitch reached Pokrovsky 
 had been full of torment for Levin. 
 
 It was at that hurried, busy season of the year when all 
 the peasantry are engaged in putting forth an extraordinary 
 effort, and showing an endurance, which are quite unknown 
 in the ordinary conditions of their lives, and which would be 
 prized very highly if it were not repeated every year, and 
 did not produce such very simple results. Digging, sowing, 
 mowing, reaping, harvesting, threshing, these are labors 
 which seem simple and commonplace ; but to accomplish them 
 in the short time accorded by nature, every one, old and 
 young, must set to work. For three or four weeks they 
 must be content with the simplest fare, black bread, 
 garlic, and kvas ; must sleep only a few hours, and must 
 not pause night or day. And every year this happens 
 throughout all Russia. 
 
 Having lived the larger part of his life in the country, and 
 in the closest relations with the peasantry, Levin always at 
 harvest-time felt that this universal activity among the peo- 
 ple embraced his own life. 
 
 He went to the field in the early morning, came back to 
 breakfast with his wife and sister-in-law, and then returned 
 to the farm, where he was trying a new threshing-machine. 
 
 This whole day, Levin, as he talked with the pr/A:a67ic/a'A; 
 and the muzhiks in the field, as he talked at the house with 
 his wife and Dolly and the children and his father-in-law, 
 thought of only one thing ; and constantly the same ques- 
 tions pursued him, "What am I? and where am I? and 
 why am I here ? ' ' 
 
 Standing near the newly thatched barn, he watched the 
 dust, thrown off by the threshing-machine, flying in the air, 
 and the chaff settling down on the sunny grass, while the 
 swallows took refuge under the roof, and the laborers hurried
 
 748 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 about in the sombre interior of the barn ; and this strange 
 idea came into his head : 
 
 " Why is all this done ? " thought he. " Why am I stand- 
 ing here superintending these people? and they, why are 
 they doing their best in my presence ? Why is my old friend 
 Matrona raking there ? I cured her when a beam fell on her 
 at the fire," he said to himself, as he looked at a hideous old 
 buba, who was walking with bare, sunburned feet across the 
 hard, uneven soil, and was plying the rake vigorously. " She 
 got well then. But if not to-day or to-morrow, then in ten 
 years she must be borne to her grave, and there will be noth- 
 ing left of her, nor of that pretty girl in red, who is husking 
 corn with such graceful, swift motions. They will bury her. 
 And that dappled horse will soon die," he thought, as 
 he looked at the muzzled horse breathing painfully, and 
 struggling up the ever-descending treadmill. "They will 
 carry him off. And Feodor, the machine-tender, with his 
 full, curling, silky beard, they will carry him off too. But 
 now he gathers up the sheaves, and gives his commands, and 
 shouts to the babiti, and, with quick motions, stirs up the old 
 horse on the treadmill. And it will be the same with me. 
 Why?" And, in the midst of his meditations, he mechani- 
 cally took out his watch to see how many hours they had 
 been threshing. It was his duty to do this, so that he could 
 pay the men fairly for their day's work. 
 
 "So far, only three ricks," he said to himself; and he 
 went to the machine-tender, and, trying to make his voice 
 heard above the racket, told him to work faster. 
 
 Feodor, his face covered with dust and sweat, shouted 
 back some unintelligible reply ; but Levin felt disgusted. 
 
 He mounted the drum, took Feodor's place, and began to 
 do the feeding. 
 
 He worked thus till it was the muzhiks' dinner-hour ; and 
 then, in company with Feodor, he left the grange, and talked 
 with him, leaning against a beautifully stacked pile of yellow 
 wheat saved for planting. 
 
 Feodor was from a distant village, the very one where 
 Levin had formerly let the association have some land. Now 
 it was rented to the dvornik. 
 
 Levin talked with Feodor about this land, and asked him 
 if it were not possible that Platon, a rich and trustworthy 
 muzhik of his village, would take it for the next year. 
 
 " Price too high ; won't catch Platon, Konstautin Dmi-
 
 ANNA KARtfNINA. 749 
 
 tritch," replied the muzhik, wiping the sweat from his neck 
 with a corn-husk. 
 
 " Da! how does Kirillof pay it?" 
 
 " Mitiukh " so Feodor called the dvorniJc " does just 
 as he pleases. He has no pity on the peasants. But uncle 
 Fokauuitch," so he called the starik Platon, "does he 
 try to skin a man? Where any one owes him, he gives trust. 
 He does not try to get it from 'em. He's that kind of a 
 man!" 
 
 " Da! Why does he give trust? " 
 
 "Men differ. One lives for his belly, like Mitiukh ; but 
 Fokanuitch, he's an honest man, he lives for his soul. 
 He remembers God." 
 
 ' What do you call living for the soul, and remembering 
 God?" exclaimed Levin eagerly. 
 
 " Why, that's plain enough. It's to live according to 
 God according to truth. Here's different people. Take 
 you, Konstantin Dmitritch, for example : you couldn't 
 wrong poor people." 
 
 "Yes, yes; proshchcCi" [good-by], stammered Levin, 
 deeply moved ; and, taking his cane, he turned towards the 
 house. " Fokanuitch lived for his soul, according to God 
 according to truth." The muzhik's words found an echo in 
 his heart ; and confused but weighty thoughts arose within 
 him from some hidden source, and filled his soul with their 
 brilliant light. 
 
 XII. 
 
 LEVIN strode along the highway, not only filled with his 
 thoughts, for he could not entirely get rid of them, but 
 also under the swaj" of a spiritual impulse, such as he had 
 never known before. 
 
 The peasant's words had had in his soul the effect of an 
 electric spark, suddenly condensing the cloud of dim, inco- 
 herent thoughts, which had not ceased to fill his mind, even 
 while he was talking of the letting of his field. 
 
 He felt that some new impulse, inexplicable as yet, filled 
 his heart with joy. 
 
 "Not to live for one's self, but for God ! What God? 
 \ Could he have said what he did without meaning it? He said 
 ' that we must live, not for ourselves, that is, for what inter- 
 ests and pleases us, but for God, whom no one knows or can
 
 750 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 define. Still, call it nonsense, didn't I once understand 
 what Feodor meant? Didn't I also feel convinced of its 
 truth? Did I find it either false or absurd? Nay: I used 
 to understand, and find in it the same meaning that he finds, 
 and understood it more completely and clearly than any 
 thing else in life. Feodor says Kirillof, the dvornik, lives 
 for his belly. I know what he means by that. We all, 
 rational beings, all of us live in the same way. But Feodor 
 says, too, that it is wrong to live for the belly, but that we 
 should live for truth, for God ; and I know what that means 
 as well. I, and millions of men, muzhiks and sages, in 
 the past and in the present, we are in accord on one 
 point ; and that is, that we should live for ' the good.' The 
 only knowledge that I and all men possess that is clear, in- 
 dubitable, absolute, is here. It is not by reason that we 
 have reached it. Reason excludes it, for it has neither cause 
 nor effect. 'The good,' if it had a cause, would cease to 
 be the good : if it had an effect a reward it would cease 
 to be the good. I know this ; we all know it : and yet I 
 have been waiting for a miracle to convince me of it. Here 
 it is, the miracle, the one and only possible existence, sur- 
 rounding me on every side, and yet I have not noticed it. 
 Can there be greater miracle than this? 
 
 " Have I really found the solution of my doubts? Shall 
 I cease to suffer?" And Levin followed the dusty road, 
 insensible to weariness and heat, and feeling that his long 
 travail was at an end. The sensation was so delightful, that 
 he could not believe that it was true. He choked with emo- 
 tion ; his strength failed him ; and he left the high road, and 
 went into the woods, and sat down under the shadow of an 
 aspen on the uniuown grass. He uncovered his moist fore- 
 head, and stretched himself out on the succulent wood-grass, 
 and leaned his head on his hand. 
 
 "Yes, I must reflect and consider," he thought, looking 
 attentively at the motionless grass, and watching the move- 
 ments of an earth-beetle crawling up the stalk of couch-grass, 
 and stopped by a leaf . "Everything has its beginning," 
 he said to himself, removing the leaf from the beetle's wav, 
 and bending down another stalk of couch-grass to help the 
 beetle on. "What makes me so happy? What discovery 
 have I made?" 
 
 "I used to say that there was going on in my body, iu 
 the body of this grass, in the body of this beetle, the'
 
 ANNA KAB&NINA. 751 
 
 beetle did not want to go to the other stalk, but spread its 
 wings, and flew away, incessant change of matter, in con- 
 formity to certain physical, chemical, and physiological laws ; 
 and in all of us, together with the aspens and the clouds, 
 and the nebulae, there was evolution. Evolution from what? 
 into what? Endless evolution and conflict. But was 
 conflict with the Infinite possible? And I was surprised 
 to find nothing along this line, in spite of my best efforts, 
 which could reveal to me the meaning of my life, my mo- 
 tives, my longings. But the consciousness that there is a 
 meaning is, nevertheless, so strong and clear, that it forms 
 the very foundation of my existence ; and I marvelled and 
 rejoiced when the muzhik said, ' To live for God, for the 
 soul.' 
 
 " I have discovered nothing : I have simply opened my 
 eyes to what I knew already. I have simply come to the 
 recognition of that Power which formerly gave me life, and 
 which gives me life again to-day. I am freed from error : I 
 recognize my master." 
 
 He went over in memory the course of his thought for 
 the last two years, from the day when the idea of death 
 struck him, on seeing his beloved brother hopelessly sick. 
 Then he had clearly resolved, that since man had no other 
 prospect than suffering, death, and eternal oblivion, he must 
 either commit suicide, or find the explanation of the problem 
 of existence, and in such manner as to see in it something 
 more than the cruel irony of a malevolent spirit. But he 
 had succeeded in explaining nothing. He had not killed him- 
 self : he had married, and had experienced new joys, which 
 made him happy when he did not ponder on the meaning of 
 life. What did this mean ? It meant that he was thinking 
 badly, and living well. Without knowing it, he had been 
 sustained by those spiritual verities which he had sucked in 
 with his mother's milk, which his intellect had misconstrued. 
 Now it was clear to him that he could live only through 
 the blessed influence of the faith in which he had been 
 taught. 
 
 " What should I have been, how should I have lived, if I 
 had not absorbed these beliefs, if I had not known that 
 I must live for God, and not for the satisfaction of my de- 
 sires? I should have been a thief, a liar, a murderer. Noth- 
 ing of what seems the chief joy of my life would have had 
 any existence for me."
 
 752 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 And he began to try to imagine what he might have been, 
 if he had not really known the aim of his existence. 
 
 " I was in search of a solution which thought could not 
 reach, for the problem was too lofty. Life itself, with the 
 innate knowledge of good and evil, alone could give me an 
 answer. And this knowledge I did not acquire. It was 
 given to me, like all the rest ; given, I could not know where 
 to get it. Did I get it from reason? But would reason 
 ever have proved to me that I ought to love my neighbor, 
 instead of choking him? I was taught it in my childhood ; 
 but I believed it gladly, because it was already existent in 
 my soul. Reason discovered the struggle for existence, 
 that law which demands the overthrow of eveiy obstacle in 
 the way of our desires. That is the result of reason ; but 
 reason has nothing to do with loving our neighbor. 
 
 " Da! it is pride," he said to himself, as he rolled over on 
 his stomach, and began to tie the stalks of grass into a knot, 
 trying not to break them. 
 
 " And not only the pride of the intellect, but folly of 
 intellect! But worse than that wickedness of intellect, 
 abominable wickedness of intellect," he repeated. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 LEVIN remembered a recent scene between Dolly and her 
 children. The children had been left alone, and had amused 
 themselves by boiling the raspberry shrub, and making a 
 fountain of milk with their mouths. Their mother, catching 
 them in the act, tried to impress on them, in their uncle's 
 presence, how much work was involved in what they were 
 destroying ; that the labor was performed for their benefit ; 
 that if they broke the cups, they couldn't take their tea ; and 
 if they wasted their milk, they wouldn't have any more, and 
 would be hungry. 
 
 Levin was struck by the indifference and scepticism with 
 which the children heard their mother's words. They were 
 only sorry to have their interesting sport interrupted, and 
 they did not believe a word of what she said. The}' did not 
 believe, because they did not know the value of what they 
 were playing with, and did not understand that they were 
 destroying their own means of subsistence. 
 
 " * That is well enough,' they thought ; ' but there is nothing
 
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 753 
 
 interesting or worth while in it, because it is always the same, 
 and always will be. And it is monotonous. We don't have 
 to think about it, it is all ready : but we do need to get up 
 something new and exciting ; and here we were making candy 
 iu a cup over the candle, and squirting the milk into each 
 other's mouth. It is fun. It is new, aud not half as stupid 
 as to drink milk out of a cup.' 
 
 " Isn't that the way we do, isn't that the way 1 do, in trying 
 to penetrate the secrets of nature and the problem of human 
 life by reason? Don't all the theories of philosophy do the 
 same thing, and lead by strange paths to the simple knowl- 
 edge that the} 7 all possess, and without which they could not 
 live? We see clearly, in all the different theories of every 
 philosopher, that the true meaning of human life is as indu- 
 bitably known as it is known to Veodorthe muzhik ; and don't 
 they all come back to this, even though it be by an uncertain 
 intellectual path ? Nu kn ! leave the children to get their 
 own living, make their own utensils, do the milking. Would 
 they play tricks? they would die of hunger. 2fu ka! give 
 us over to our own ideas and passions, with no knowledge 
 of our Creator, without the consciousness of moral good 
 and evil, and what would be the result? We reason because 
 we are spiritually satiated. We are children. Here arn I, a 
 Christian, brought up in the faith, surrounded by the bless- 
 ings of Christianity, living upon these spiritual blessings with- 
 out being conscious of them ; and like children I have been 
 reasoning, or at least trying to reason, out the meaning of life. 
 
 " But in the hour of suffering, just as when children are 
 cold and hungry, I turn to Him, and, like these same chil- 
 dren whom their mother reprimands for their childish faults, 
 I feel that my childish efforts to get out of the mad circle of 
 reason ing have done me no good. 
 
 " Yes, reason has taught me nothing. What I know has 
 been given, revealed to me through the heart, and especially 
 through faith in the teachings of the Church. 
 
 ' The Church, the Church? " repeated Levin, turning over 
 again, and, as he rested his head on his hand, looking at a 
 herd of cattle down by the river at a distance. "Can I 
 really believe all that the Church teaches?" said he to test 
 himself, and to bring up every thing that might destroy his 
 present feeling of security. He expressly called to mind the 
 church teachings which more than all had seemed strange 
 to him, and disgusted him.
 
 754 ANNA KARfiNINA. 
 
 ^ 
 
 " Creation? Yes, but how did T myself explain existence? 
 existence? the Devil? sin? How did I explain evil? re- 
 demption?" 
 
 And now it seemed to him that no one of these church 
 dogmas seem inimical to the great objects of life, faith in 
 \ God, in goodness. On the contrary, all tended to produce 
 that greatest of miracles, that which consists in enabling the 
 whole world, with its millions of human beings, young and 
 old, the muzhik and Lvof, and Kitty and peasants and tsars, 
 married and single, to comprehend the same great truths, 
 so as to live that life of the soul which alone is worth living, 
 and which is our only aim. 
 
 Lying on his back, he looked up into the high, cloudless 
 sky. " Do I not know," thought he, " that that is infinity 
 of space, and not a vault of blue stretching above me? But, 
 however I strain my sight, I can see only a vaulted dome ; 
 and, in spite of my knowledge of infinite space, I have more 
 ' satisfaction in looking at it as a blue, vaulted dome, than 
 when I try to look beyond." 
 
 Levin stopped thinking. He listened to the mysterious 
 voices which seemed to wake joyfully in him. "Is it really 
 faith?" he thought, fearing to believe in his happiness. 
 " My God, I thank thee ! " he cried; and he swallowed 
 down the sobs that arose, and brushed away with both hands 
 the tears that filled his eyes. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 LEVIN looked awa}-, and saw the herd, and his one-horse 
 telyfya and his driver, who approached the herd of cattle, and 
 began to talk to the herdsman. Then he heard the sound 
 of wheels and the neighing of the horse ; but he was so occu- 
 pied with his thoughts, that he did not think why it was that 
 his coachman was coming for him. He only realized it when 
 the coachman, while still some distance off, cried, "The 
 barufna sent for you. Your brother and another barin have 
 come." 
 
 Levin got in at once, and took the reins, as though awak- 
 ened from sleep. It was long before he could collect his 
 thoughts. He looked at the well-fed horse, and at the spot 
 on his neck where the harness rubbed ; and he looked at 
 Ivan, the coachman, sitting beside him ; and he thought of
 
 ANNA KAKfiNINA. 755 
 
 how he had been expecting his brother, and that his wife 
 had perhaps been disturbed by his long absence ; and he 
 began to wonder who the unknown guest was who had come 
 with his brother, and these friends appeared to him different 
 from what they had been before. It seemed to him that his 
 relations with all men had become more friendly. "Now 
 there will be no more coldness such as used to be between my 
 brother and me, no more disputes. There will be no more 
 quarrels with Kitty. I shall be cordial to my guest, whoever 
 he may be, and kind to the servants, and to Ivan, all will 
 be different." And holding in the horse, who was eager to 
 break into a run, he tried to think of something to say to 
 Ivan, who was sitting motionless near him, not knowing what 
 to do with his idle hands. 
 
 " Better keep to the left, to clear that tree," said Ivan at 
 this moment, touching the reins which his master held. 
 
 "Have the goodness to'leave me alone, and not give me 
 lessons," answered Levin, exasperated, as he always was, at 
 interference with his affairs. As he spoke, he saw that his 
 new moral condition had not changed his character. Just be- 
 fore they arrived, he saw Grisha and Tauia running towards 
 him. 
 
 " Uncle Kostia ! Mamma and grandpapa and Sergei Ivan- 
 uitch, and some one else, are coming to meet you ! " 
 
 "Da! Who is it?" 
 
 "A horrid man, who does so with his arms," said Tania, 
 jumping into the telytya, and imitating Katavasof. 
 
 "Da! Old, or young?" asked Levin, smiling, and re- 
 minded of some one by Tania's performance. 
 
 " Ach! I hope he isn't a bore," thought he. 
 
 At a turn of the road he met Katavasof, in a straw hat, 
 walking in front of the others, and throwing his arms about, 
 as Tania had said. 
 
 Katavasof was very fond of talking philosophy, his con- 
 ceptions of which were drawn from the exact natural sci- 
 ences ; and Levin had often had discussions with him at 
 Moscow. Sometimes Katavasof made it evident that he 
 counted himself victorious. Levin remembered one of these 
 discussions, and he made up his mind not to express his views 
 so carelessly in future. Leaping from the telytya, and join- 
 ing Katavasof and his brother, he asked where his wife was. 
 
 " She has gone to the Kolok woods with Mitya," answered 
 Dolly. " She found it too hot m the house."
 
 756 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 Levin always disapproved of taking the child to the woods, 
 and he felt extremely vexed to hear about it. 
 
 " She carries that son of hers from pillar to post," said 
 the old prince. " I told her she'd better try the ice-house." 
 
 " She wanted to go to the beehives. She thought you 
 were there," added Dolly. " That is where we were going." 
 
 "Nu! What have you been doing that's good?" said 
 Sergei Ivanovitch, dropping behind the others, and walking 
 with his brother. 
 
 " Da! Nothing particular ; as usual, busy with the farm- 
 ing [khozyfcistvo'] . You'll stay with us a while, now? We've 
 been expecting you a long time." 
 
 "Only a fortnight. I have a great deal to do at Mos- 
 cow." 
 
 At these words the two brothers looked at one another, 
 and Levin dropped his eyes. He intended to be on especially 
 friendly terms with his brother, and not let any thing dis- 
 turb the simple and cordial relations that he wished to main- 
 tain with Sergei Ivanovitch. He did not kno.w what to say. 
 He wanted to avoid the Serbian Avar and the Slavic question, 
 which had caused unpleasant discussions while at Moscow. 
 Finally, he asked him how his book was getting on. 
 
 "Nu! Was your book reviewed ?" Koznuishef smiled. 
 
 u No one thinks any thing about it, I, least of all," he 
 said. " You see, Darya Aleksandrovna, we're going to have 
 a shower," he added, pointing to the white clouds which 
 were piling up above the aspen-tops. It was evident by 
 these words, that the relationship between the brothers, which 
 Levin wanted to overcome, was just the same as of old, if 
 not unfriendly, at least cool. 
 
 Levin approached Katavasof. " How good it was of you 
 to come to us ! " said he. 
 
 " I have wanted to come for a long time. Now we shall 
 have time to talk. Have you read Spencer? " 
 
 " Not thoroughly. I don't get any thing out of him." 
 
 " How so? he is interesting. You surprise me ! " 
 
 " I have definitely made up my mind that the answers to 
 certain questions that interest me are not to be found in him 
 or his followers. Now " 
 
 But he was suddenly struck by the pleasant and serene 
 expression of Katavasof's face, and he felt sorry that he 
 had expressed himself so strenuously when he had resolved 
 not to be dragged into discussion. He added, " However, we
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 757 
 
 will talk about that by and by. If wo are going to the 
 apiary, let us go down through the path." 
 
 He led the way through a narrow path by a field that had 
 not been mown, and established his guests, who were afraid 
 of the bees, under the shade of some young aspens, on 
 benches that were placed there for the purpose of receiving 
 some beehives. He himself went after bread, honey, and 
 cucumbers, to the izba that stood not far from the hives. 
 He took from the wall, where it hung, a mask of iron wire, 
 put it on, and, with his hands in his pockets, went into the 
 enclosure kept for the bees, where the hives, ranged in order, 
 had each its own history for him. There, amongst the buzz- 
 ing insects, he was glad to find himself alone for a moment, 
 to reflect, and collect his thoughts. He felt practical life 
 asserting its rights, and making havoc of his ideals. He 
 remembered how he had already been angry with his coach- 
 man, Ivan, had spoken coolly to his brother, and talked 
 foolishly with Katavasof. 
 
 " Can it be possible that my happiness was only a transi- 
 tory feeling, that will pass away, and leave nothing behind? " 
 
 But at the same moment as he analyzed his state of mind, 
 he felt with joy that his experience had left new and impor- 
 tant results. Practical life had only temporarily spread a 
 cloudy film over his inward calm. Just as the bees, buzzing 
 around him, threatened him, and robbed him of his physical 
 calm, and compelled him to defend himself ; so did the cares 
 which surrounded him, as he sat in his little telytya, disturb 
 his spiritual calm. But the annoyance lasted only while he 
 was among them : and as his physical strength, notwithstand- 
 ing the bees, was still unharmed ; so his spiritual strength, 
 newly created, was also in reality complete. 
 
 XV. 
 
 " Do you know, Kostia, whom Sergei Ivanuitch found on 
 the train?" said Dolly, after she had given her children 
 their cucumbers and honey. 
 
 " Vrousky. He's going to Serbia." 
 
 " Da ! and not alone either. He's taking out a squadron 
 of cavalry at his own expense," added Katavasof. 
 
 " That's like him," answered Levin. " But are you still 
 sending off volunteers?" added he, looking at Sergei Ivan- 
 ovitch.
 
 758 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch was busy rescuing a live bee from the 
 honey that had flowed out of the white honeycomb at the 
 bottom of his cup. and he did not answer. 
 
 " Da! I should think so ! " said Katavasof, biting into a 
 cucumber. "If you had only seen them at the station this 
 morning ! ' ' 
 
 " Nu! what an idea this is ! For Heaven's sake, tell me, 
 Sergei Ivanovitch, where all these volunteers are going, and 
 whom are they going to fight with? " asked the old prince. 
 
 " With the Turks," answered Serg6i Ivanovitch, smiling 
 quietly, as he at last rescued the helpless bee on the point of 
 his knife, and set him on an aspen-leaf. 
 
 "But who has declared war on the Turks? Is it the 
 Countess Lidia Ivanovna and Madame Stahl? " 
 
 1 ' Xo one has declared war ; but the people sympathize 
 with their oppressed brethren, and want to help them." 
 
 " The prince was not speaking of help, but of Avar," said 
 Levin, coming to the assistance of his father-in-law. " The 
 prince means that private persons ought not to take part in 
 a war without being authorized by the government." 
 
 " Kostia, look out! there's a bee! Won't he sting?" 
 cried Dolly. 
 
 " Da! that isn't a bee : that's a wasp ! " said Levin. 
 
 " Nu-$, nu-s! give us your theory," demanded Katavasof, 
 evidently provoking Levin to a discussion. " Why shouldn't 
 private persons have that right?" 
 
 " Da! my theory is this : war on the one hand is such a 
 terrible, such an atrocious, thing, that no man, especially no 
 Christian man, has the right to assume the responsibility of 
 beginning it ; but it belongs to government alone, when it 
 becomes inevitable. On the other hand, in common sense, 
 where there are state questions, and above all in matters 
 concerning war, private citizens have no right to use their 
 own wills." 
 
 Sergei Ivanovitch and Katavasof were both ready at the 
 same instant with answers. 
 
 "That's where you're mistaken, bdthishka," said the 
 latter. "There may be cases when government doesn't 
 carry out the will of its citizens, and then society declares 
 its own will." 
 
 But Sergei Ivanovitch did not approve of this repl}*. He 
 frowned as Katavasof spoke, and said sternly, 
 
 "You put the question all wrong. Here there is no dec-
 
 ANNA KARtiNINA. 759 
 
 laration of war, but simply ^an expression of human, of 
 Christian sympathy. Our brethren, men of the same blood, 
 the same faith, are butchered. Nu! we do not look upon 
 them only as men and as co-religionists, but purely as women, 
 children, old men. The feelings are stirred, and the whole 
 Russian people fly to help check these horrors. Suppose 
 3'ou were walking in the street, and saw a drunken man 
 beating a woman or a child. I think you would not stop to 
 ask whether war has been declared before you attacked the 
 man, and protected the object of his fury." 
 
 " No ; but I would not kill him." 
 
 " Yes, you might even kill him." 
 
 " I don't know. If I saw such a sight, I might yield to 
 the immediate feeling. I cannot tell how it would be. But 
 in the oppression of the Slavs, there is not, and cannot be, 
 such a powerful motive." 
 
 " Perhaps not for you, but other people think differently," 
 said Sergei Ivanovitch angrily. "The people still keep the 
 tradition of sympathy with brethren of the orthodox faith, 
 who are groaning under the yoke of the infidel. The}' have 
 heard of their terrible sufferings, and are aroused." 
 
 "That maybe," answered Levin in a conciliatory tone, 
 r ' only I don't see it. I myself am one of the people, and 
 I don't feel it." 
 
 "I can say the same," put in the old prince. " I was 
 living abroad : I read the newspapers, and I learned about 
 the Bulgarian atrocities ; but I never could understand why 
 all Russia took such a sudden fancy for their Slavic brethren. 
 I am sure I never felt the slightest love for them. I was 
 greatly ashamed. I thought I must be either a monster, or 
 that Carlsbad had a bad effect on me. But since I have 
 come back, I don't feel stirred at all ; and I find that I am 
 not the only one who is not so much interested in the Slav 
 brethren as in Russia. Here is Konstantin." 
 
 "Private opinions are of no consequence there is no 
 meaning in private opinions when all Russia, when the 
 whole people, signified what they wished," said Sergei Ivan- 
 ovitch. 
 
 "Da! Excuse me. I don't see this. The people don't 
 know any thing," said the prince. 
 
 "But, papa, how about that Sunday in church?" said 
 Dolly, who had been listening to the conversation. "Get 
 me a towel, please," she said in an aside to the old bee-
 
 760 ANNA 
 
 deeper, who was looking at the children with a friendly 
 smile. 
 
 "Z)a/ What happens at church ? They tell the priest to 
 read a prayer. He reads it. Nobody understands one word. 
 They snore just as they do during the whole sermon. Then 
 they tell them that the salvation of their souls is in question ; 
 but how, they haven't the least idea. Nu! Then they pull 
 out their kopeks, and give them." 
 
 "The people cannot know their destiny. They have an 
 instinctive feeling, and at times like these they show it," 
 said Sergei Ivanovitch, looking at the old bee-keeper. 
 
 The handsome, tall old man, with his black beard, wherein 
 a few gray hairs were beginning to show, and with his thick, 
 silvery hair, stood motionless, holding a cup of honey in his 
 hand, looking at the gentlemen with a mild, placid air, evi- 
 dently not understanding a word of the conversation, nor 
 caring to understand. 
 
 He nodded his head with deliberation as he heard Sergei 
 Ivanovitch's words, and said, 
 
 "That's certainly so." 
 
 " Z)u, vot! Ask him about it," said Levin. " He doesn't 
 know. He doesn't think. Have you heard about the 
 war, Mikhai'luitch? " asked he of the old man. "You 
 know what was read on Sunday at church, don't you? 
 What do you think? Ought we to fight for the Christians ?'" 
 
 " Why should we think? Our Emperor Aleksander Niko- 
 laj'evitch will think for us, as in every thing else. He kno\vs 
 what to do. Should you like some more bread?" asked 
 he, turning to Darya Aleksaudrovna, and pointing to Grisha, 
 who was munching a crust. 
 
 " What's the use of asking him? " said Sergei Ivanuitch. 
 " We have seen, and still see, hundreds and hundreds of 
 men abandoning all they possess, giving their last penny, 
 enlisting and trooping from every corner of Russia, all with 
 the same object. Do you mean that that signifies nothing? " 
 
 " It signifies, in my opinion," said Levin, beginning to 
 get excited, " that out of eighty millions of men, there will 
 always be found hundreds, and even thousands, who have 
 lost their social position, are restless, and so throw them- 
 selves into the first adventure that comes along, whether it 
 is to follow Pugatchef, or to go to Serbia." 
 
 "I tell you they are not adventurers who devote them- 
 selves to this work, but they are the best representatives of
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 761 
 
 the nation," cried Sergei Ivanuitch excitedly, as though he 
 were defending his last position. " There are the contribu- 
 tions : isn't that a test of popular feeling? " 
 
 "That word 'people' is so vague. Perhaps one in a 
 thousand among the peasants understands, but the rest of 
 the eighty millions do as Mikbailuitch here does. They not 
 only don't show their will, but they haven't the slightest idea 
 that they have any will to show. How, then, can we say 
 that this is the will of the people? " 
 
 XVI. 
 
 SERGEI IVANOVITCH was skilled in dialectics, and he took 
 up another side of the question. 
 
 "Da/ if you want to get at the mind of the nation, of 
 course it will be very hard work. We have not the proper 
 gifts, and cannot reckon it that wa}-. But there are other 
 means of learning it besides arithmetic. It is felt in the 
 air, it is felt in the heart, not to speak of those subterra- 
 nean currents which" have shaken the mass of the people. 
 Take society in a narrower sense. Take the intelligent 
 classes, and see how on this point even the most hostile 
 parties combine. There is no longer a difference of opin- 
 ions : all the organs of society express the same thing. 
 They have all become aware of an elemental force which fills 
 the nation with its own motive-power." 
 
 "Yes; the newspapers all say the same thing; that is 
 true," said the old prince: "but then, so do all the frogs 
 croak before a storm. That doesn't signify much." 
 
 "Whether frogs or not, I don't edit newspapers, and 
 I don't set up to defend them. I am talking of the unan- 
 imity of opinion among intelligent people," said Serge" i Ivan- 
 ovitch, turning to his brother. 
 
 Levin was about to reply, but the old prince took the 
 words from his mouth. 
 
 "Nu! there's a reason for that unanimity. Here's my 
 son-in-law, Stepan Arkadyevitch, as you know, who has just 
 been appointed member of some committee, commission, or 
 other, I don't know what, with eight thousand rubles 
 salary, and nothing to do. Now, Dolly, that's not a secret. 
 Ask him if his office is useful: he will tell you that it is 
 indispensable. And he is an upright man ; but you could
 
 762 ANNA KAR&NINA. 
 
 not make him cease to believe in his full eight thousand 
 salary." 
 
 "Oh, yes ! he told me to tell Darya Aleksandrovna that he 
 had got that place," said Sergei Ivanovitch. 
 
 " The newspapers are unanimous. War will double their 
 circulation ; and, of course, they will support the Slavic 
 question for you and the national instinct." 
 
 " I don't like the papers much ; but you are unjust," said 
 Sergei Ivanovitch. 
 
 "I will only add one more suggestion," said the old 
 prince. " Alphonse Karr wrote a clever thing just before the 
 Franco-Prussian war, when he said, ' You say this war is 
 absolutely necessary ; very good : go to the front, then, and 
 be under the first fire, and lead the first onslaught.' ' 
 
 "Good editors would be glad to do that," said Katavasof, 
 smiling, and trying to imagine certain editorial friends of his 
 in this chosen legion. 
 
 "Yes; but when they ran away," said Dolly, "they'd 
 bother the others." 
 
 " Just as soon as they begin to run put a mitrailleuse be- 
 hind them, or some Cossacks with whips," said the prince. 
 
 "Da! that's a joke, but not a very good joke: excuse 
 me, prince," said Sergei Ivanovitch. 
 
 "I don't think it was a joke," said Levin : " it was " 
 
 But his brother interrupted him. 
 
 "Every member of society is called upon to do his duty, 
 and thoughtful men perform theirs by giving expression to 
 public opinion ; and the unanimous and full expression of 
 public opinion is creditable to the press, and at the same 
 time a good symptom. Twenty years ago the world would 
 have kept quiet : to-day the voice of the Russian people is 
 heard, demanding, like one man, to avenge its brethren. It 
 is a great step taken, a proof of power." 
 
 "The people are certainly ready enough for sacrifices 
 where the salvation of their souls is concerned, but not for 
 killing Turks," said Levin, involuntarily connecting this con- 
 versation with the thoughts of the morning. 
 
 " What do you mean by soul? That, to a naturalist, you 
 must remember, is a veiy vague term. What is the soul? " 
 demanded Katavasof, with a smile. 
 
 lt Achl You know." 
 
 " Upon my word, I haven't the least idea ; " and the pro- 
 fessor broke into a burst of laughter.
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 763 
 
 "Christ said, 'I am come not to bring peace, but a 
 sword,' " remarked Sergei Ivanovitch, quoting a passage 
 from the Gospel, which had always troubled Levin. 
 
 "That's just so." repeated the old bee-keeper, who had 
 been standing near them, in response to a chance look di- 
 rected to him. 
 
 " Come, bdtiuahka, you're beaten, you're beaten, wholly 
 beaten ! " cried Katavasof gayly. 
 
 Levin reddened with vexation, not because he was beaten, 
 but because he had been drawn into discussion again. 
 
 "No: it is impossible for me to dispute with them," he 
 thought: "their armor is impenetrable, and I am defence- 
 less." 
 
 He saw that he could not defeat his brother and Katava- 
 sof, and it was equally impossible to agree with them. He 
 could not admit that it was right for a handful of men, his 
 brother among them, to claim to, represent, with the news- 
 papers, the will of the nation, especially when that will 
 called for vengeance and butchery, and when their whole 
 case rested on the doubtful stories of a few hundreds of 
 miserable fellows in search of adventures. In his opinion, 
 there was no confirmation of these assertions. The people 
 and he felt that he was one of them, a representative of 
 the great Russian people would never regard war as a 
 boon, whatever its object. If public opinion was infallible, 
 why were not the Revolution and the Commune as legitimate 
 as the war for the assistance of the Slavs ? 
 
 Levin would have liked to express these opinions ; but he 
 imagined that the discussion was irritating his brother, and 
 that it would end in nothing ; so he held his peace, and called 
 the attention of his guests to the shower that was threaten- 
 ing, and advised a hasty return to the house. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE prince and Sergei Ivanovitch got ipto the telyfya, 
 while the rest of the group hastened along on foot. 
 
 But the black, threatening storm-cloud was coming up so 
 fast, and the wind drove up the low, smoke-like masses so 
 rapidly, that the rain was all but on them when they were 
 still quite a distance from the house. 
 
 The children ran on ahead, laughing and screaming.
 
 764 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 Doll} 7 , hindered by her dress, tried to keep up with them. 
 The gentlemen followed with long strides, clinging to their 
 hats. At last, just as they reached the porch, the great 
 drops began to rattle on the iron spout. 
 
 Where is Kateriua Aleksanclrovna? " demanded Levin 
 of Agafya Mikhai'lovna, who was coming out of the door, 
 loaded with shawls and umbrellas. 
 
 " We supposed she was with you." 
 
 "And Mitya?" 
 
 " Must be in the Kolok woods with his nurse." 
 
 Levin seized the shawls, and started to run. In the few 
 minutes that had elapsed, the storm had reached beyond the 
 sun, and it was as dark as though there was an eclipse. The 
 wind blew like a tornado, making the leaves fly, twisting 
 the branches of the birches, bending the trees, plants, and 
 flowers, and almost presenting a barrier to Levin's passage. 
 The fields and the forest disappeared behind a curtain of 
 rain, and all those who were caught outside by the storm ran 
 to shelter. 
 
 Bending his head, and fighting vigorously against the gale, 
 which tugged at his shawls, Levin advanced as best he could. 
 He thought he already saw white forms behind a well-known 
 oak, when suddenly a glare of light seemed to burst from 
 the ground before him, and the vault of the sky abov.e him 
 to fall with a crash. When he opened his dazzled eyes, he 
 looked through the thick curtain formed by the rain, which 
 cut him off from the Kolok woods, and saw, to his horror, 
 that the green top of a well-known oak had disappeared. 
 
 "Can the lightning have struck it? " he had time to ex- 
 claim ; and instantly he heard the sound of the oak-tree fall- 
 ing with a crash, and carrying with it the neighboring trees. 
 " My God ! my God ! keep them safe," he murmured, rigid 
 with fear ; and though he instantly felt the absurdity of the 
 prayer, since the harm would have been already done, he 
 nevertheless said it over and over, for he knew that, absurd 
 as it was, he could not do any thing else to help them. He 
 hastened towarxls the spot where they generally went, but he 
 did not find them. They were in another part of the woods 
 under an old linden, and they saw him. Two figures dressed 
 in dark clothes they usually wore white were crouching 
 under the trees. It was Kitty and the nurse. The rain had 
 stopped, but it was still lightening when Levin reached them. 
 The nurse was diy, but Kitty was wet through. They were
 
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 705 
 
 standing just as they had been when the shower began, 
 though it was no longer necessary. Both were leaning over 
 the baby-carriage, and protecting Mitya with their sunshades. 
 
 "Alive? safe? God be praised! " he cried, as he ran to 
 them with his shoes full of water. " Nu! how could 3-011 do 
 such a foolish thing? I can't understand it," Levin began 
 with vexation as he saw Kitty's glowing and wet face, under 
 her shapeless hat, turned to him. 
 
 " I assure you, it was not my fault. We were just going 
 when " 
 
 "JVw/ God be thanked that you're safe and sound! I 
 don't know what I'm saying." 
 
 They hastily picked up the wet things, the nurse took the 
 baby, and Levin, ashamed of his vexation, gave his arm to 
 his wife, and led her away, pressing her hand gently. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 IN spite of his feeling of having been -deceived, as he 
 discovered that his moral regeneration had not materially 
 changed his nature for the better, Levin felt none the less, 
 all the rest of the day, a sensation of jo}- which filled his 
 heart to overflowing. He took but a small part in the con- 
 versation ; but the time passed gayly, and Katavasof made a 
 conquest of the ladies by the originality of his wit. He was 
 drawn out by Sergei Ivanovitch, and amused them, and in- 
 terested them greatly, by telling of his researches into the 
 different characteristics and features of male and female 
 flies, and of their habits. Sergei Ivanovitch was very gay ; 
 and at tea, he explained the future of the Eastern question so 
 simply and well, that all could follow him. Kitty alone did 
 not hear him : she was occupied with Mitya. The day ended 
 pleasantly without irritating discussions. As the atmos- 
 phere had been cooled by the storm, they staid in the house. 
 
 Kitty, who was obliged to give Mitya his bath, left with 
 regret ; and a few minutes after, a message was brought to 
 Levin, that she wanted to see him. It made him anxious. 
 He rose at once, in spite of the interest he felt in his brother's 
 theory as to the influence of the emancipation of forty mil- 
 lions of Slavs upon the future of Russia. What could they 
 want with him ? They never called him to go to the child 
 except in a case of emergency. But his anxiety, us well as
 
 766 ANNA KAEfiNINA. 
 
 the curiosity that had been roused bj- his brother's ideas, dis- 
 appeared as soon as he found himself alone for a moment, 
 aud his secret happiness came back to him, clear and strong 
 as in the morning, without his needing to awaken it by re- 
 flection. The feeling had become independent of the thought. 
 He walked along the terrace, and saw two stars glowing in 
 the sky. 
 
 " Yes," said he to himself, " as I looked at the heavens, 
 I thought there was a truth in the delusion that this, which 
 I am gazing at, was a solid vault. But there was the some- 
 thing that remained half thought out in my mind, something 
 that I hid from myself. Now, what was it? There cannot 
 be an answer." 
 
 But as he entered the child's chamber, he remembered 
 what it was that he hid from himself. It was this : 
 
 " If the chief proof of the existence of God lies in the 
 inward revelation of good and evil which He has given to 
 each of us, why should this revelation be limited to the 
 Christian Church? How about those millions of Buddhists 
 and Mohammedans, who are also seeking for the truth? " 
 
 It seemed to him that there must be an answer to this 
 question, but he could not find and express it before enter- 
 ing the room. 
 
 Kitty, with her sleeves rolled up, was bending over the 
 bath-tubt where she was holding up the baby's head with 
 one hand while she sponged him with the other. She turned 
 towards her husband as she heard his steps. 
 
 " Nu, vot! look, look! Agafya Mikhailovna is right: he 
 knows us." 
 
 The fact was, that Mitya to-day for the first time gave 
 indubitable proof that he knew his friends. 
 
 As soon as Levin went to the bath-tub, the experiment 
 w;is successful. They brought up a cook who had not seen 
 the baby much. The baby frowned, and shook his head. 
 Kitty came to him, and he smiled, and stretched out his hand 
 to her, so that not only the mother and the nurse, but Levin 
 himself, were enchanted. The}- took the baby from the 
 water, wiped him, and, after he had expressed his disappro- 
 bation with a piercing scream, they gave him to his mother. 
 
 " Nu! I'm very glad to see that you begin to love him," 
 said Kitty, as she sat down in a comfortable seat, with the 
 child at her breast. "I am very glad. It really alarmed 
 me when you said you hadn't any feeling for him."
 
 ANNA KARNINA. 767 
 
 " No ! did I say that I did not care for him? I only said 
 that my illusions had gone." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 " I wasn't disappointed in him, but in the feeling that he 
 would arouse. I expected more. I expected as a surprise 
 some new and pleasant feeling ; and instead of that, it was 
 pity, disgust" 
 
 She listened to him as she put on her rings, which she had 
 taken off while bathing the baby. 
 
 " And more of fear and pity than of satisfaction. I never 
 knew until to-day, after the storm, how I loved him." 
 
 Kitty smiled with radiant joy. 
 
 " Were you very much afraid? And I was too. But I'm 
 still more afraid now that I see the danger we were in. I 
 shall go and look at the oak to-morrow. How nice Kata- 
 vusof is! Da! the whole da}* has been so pleasant. You 
 are so delightful with your brother when you want to be. 
 Na ! go to them. It is always hot and close here after the 
 bath." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 LEVIN, on leaving the nursery, began to follow out the 
 thought that had been obscure. 
 
 Instead of going back to the parlor, where he heard the 
 sound of voices, he leaned over the balustrade of the terrace, 
 and looked at the sky. There was not a cloud in the south, 
 but it was still lowering in the opposite quarter. From time 
 to time there would be a glare of lightning, followed by the 
 distant rumbling of the thunder. Levin looked at the stars 
 and the Milky Way, and listened to the drops of rain falling 
 rhythmically from the leaves of the trees. When the light- 
 ning flashed, the stars would disappear from his vision. 
 Then they would re-appear, one by one, resuming their 
 places as if a careful hand had re-adjusted them in the firma- 
 ment. 
 
 "Nu! What is it that troubles me?" he asked himself, 
 feeling, as he did so, a response in his soul which as yet he 
 was unable to define. " Yes, it is the laws of good and 
 evil revealed in the world which are the proof, the evideat, 
 unimpeachable proof, of the existence of God. These laws 
 I recognize as at the very centre of my being ; and so I am 
 bound by them, willingly or unwillingly, to those others who
 
 768 ANNA KARtiNINA. 
 
 recognize them as well ; and this union of. souls sharing a 
 common belief is called the Church. Nu! but Hebrews, 
 Mohammedans, Buddhists, are the}* in the same relation?" 
 he asked himself, recurring to the dilemma which had threat- 
 ened him. u Can these millions be deprived of the greatest 
 of blessings, of that which alone gives a meaning to life?" 
 He paused. " The question which I am asking is the ques- 
 tion of the relation of the various forms of human belief to 
 Divinity. It is the revelation of God to the universe, with 
 all its planets and starry systems, which I am presuming to 
 fathom. And at the moment when knowledge, sure, though 
 inaccessible to reason, is revealed to me, shall I still "persist 
 in dragging logic in ? " 
 
 " Do I know that the stars do not move," said he, noticing 
 the change that had taken place iu the position of the 
 brilliant planet which he had seen rising over the birches ; 
 " but seeing the slars change place, and not being able to 
 imagine the revolution of the earth, then I should be right in 
 saying that they moved. Would not the astronomers have 
 made no calculations, and gained no knowledge, if they had 
 taken into consideration the vaiied and complicated motions 
 of the earth? Have not their marvellous conclusions as to 
 the distances, the weight, the motions, and revolutions of the 
 celestial bodies all been based upon the apparent movements 
 of the stars around a motionless earth, these very move- 
 ments which I now witness, as millions of men for centuries 
 have witnessed them, and which can alwaj's be verified? 
 And just as the conclusions of the astronomers would have 
 been inaccurate and false if they had not been based upon 
 their observations of the heavens such as they appeared rel- 
 atively to a single meridian and a single horizon, so all my 
 conclusions as to the knowledge of good and evil would be 
 lacking if I did not connect them with the revelation of 
 these which Christianity has made, which my soul can always 
 verify. The relations of human belief to God must, for me, 
 remain unfathomable : to search them out belongs not to 
 me." 
 
 " Haven't you gone in yet? " said Kitty's voice, suddenly. 
 " There's nothing that troubles you, is there?" asked she, 
 looking wistfully up into her husband's face. By the light 
 of a flash of lightning on the horizon, she saw that he was 
 calm and happy, and she smiled. 
 
 " She understands me," thought he. " She knows what
 
 ANNA KARlSNINA. 769 
 
 I am thinking. Shall I tell her, or not? Yes, I will tell 
 her." 
 
 But just as he was about to speak, Kitty broke in. 
 
 " Kostia," said she, " do go; there's a good fellow, and 
 take a look at Sergei Ivanovitch's chamber, and see if it's 
 all right. I'm so tired ! " 
 
 "Certainly, I'll go," answered Levin, rising, and kissing 
 her. 
 
 "No; better be silent," thought he, as she turned back 
 into the parlor : " this secret has no importance save for me 
 alone, and my words could not explain it. This new feeling 
 has neither changed me nor blinded me nor made me happy, 
 as I thought. Just as neither surprise nor rapture took the 
 place of paternal love, so it has been here. The feeling 
 stole into my soul through suffering ; and it is faith, not 
 faith, I do not know what it means. I shall probably con- 
 tinue to be vexed with Ivan the coachman, and get into use- 
 less discussions, and express my thoughts blunderingly. I 
 shall always be blaming my wife for what annoys me, and 
 repenting at once. I shall alwa3's feel a certain barrier be- 
 tween the sanctuary of my inmost soul, and the souls of 
 others, even my wife's. I shall continue to pray without 
 being able to explain to myself why, but my inward life has 
 conquered its liberty. It will be no longer at the mercy of 
 circumstances ; and my whole life, every moment of my life, 
 will be, not meaningless as before, but full of deep meaning, 
 which I shall have power to impress on every action."
 
 GLOSSAEY. 
 
 Ach (akh) Oh, ah, ha, alas. 
 
 Arshin 2.333 feet, .711 meter. 
 
 Artel Labor union. 
 
 Artelshchik Kailroarl porter. 
 
 Baba (pi. babui) Peasant-woman; literally, woman. 
 
 Babka Midwife, grandmother. 
 
 Barin Lord, master. 
 
 Baruina Lady, mistress. 
 
 Baruishna Unmarried lady. 
 
 Bashluik A Caucasian hood. 
 
 Bashiuak Shoes, slippers. 
 
 Batiushka Little father. 
 
 Batiushki Ye gods (little fathers). 
 
 Botvinya Vegetable soup and kvas. 
 
 Bozhe mo'i My God, good heavens. 
 
 Burlak River-boatman, clown. 
 
 Caviare Roe of sturgeon. 
 
 Da, Da tchto Exclamation ; literally, yes, yes, 
 
 what? 
 
 Da, vot Literally, yes, here. 
 
 Datcha Summer villa. 
 
 Denshchik Officer's servant. 
 
 Desyatin 2.7 acres, 1.092 hektars. 
 
 Domovo'i Household spirit dwelling behind the 
 
 stove. 
 
 Drozhky Carriage. 
 
 Dusha, dushka, diishenka . . Terms of endearment; little soul. 
 
 Dvornik Janitor, choreman (one who tends 
 
 the dvor or courtyard). 
 
 Dvorianstvo Nobility. 
 
 Eka There! 
 
 Ekonomka Housekeeper. 
 
 Freilina Maid of honor. 
 
 771
 
 772 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Furazhka Forage-cap. 
 
 Golubtchik Darling. 
 
 Infernalnai'a Infernal-room (from Italian). 
 
 Ish-tui Look you. 
 
 Istopnik Stove-tender. 
 
 Izba Peasant's hut. 
 
 Izvoshchik Hack-driver. 
 
 Kaftan Coat. 
 
 Kalatch Roll. 
 
 Kak-zhe How. 
 
 Kammer-junker Gentleman of the bed-chamber. 
 
 Kapelldiener Usher. 
 
 Kasha Wheat gruel. 
 
 Katalshchik One who rents skates; literally, 
 
 skater. 
 
 Kepi Soldier's cap. 
 
 Kha, kha! Exclamation. 
 
 Khozyaika Mistress of a house, hostess. 
 
 Khozyam Master, host. 
 
 Khozyaistvo Estate, farming. See p. 344, note. 
 
 Kitel Linen suit. 
 
 Kondrato Conrad. 
 
 Kopek $0.008. 
 
 Krestianin, krestianka . . . The old name of the serf, male and 
 
 female peasant. 
 
 Kvas Sour, fermented drink. 
 
 Lasotchka Diminutive of Laska. 
 
 Lavronty Lawrence. 
 
 Lineika Two-seated drozhky. 
 
 Malchik Boy, lad. 
 
 Maman Mamma (French). 
 
 Masha Diminutive Marya, Mary. 
 
 Matimatik Learned man. 
 
 Matushki Exclamation ; literally, little mothers. 
 
 Matushka Little mother. 
 
 Mazurka Cotillon, the german. 
 
 Metayers Small farmers. 
 
 Muzhik Peasant, diminutive of muzh, a man. 
 
 Muzhitchok Little old muzhik. 
 
 Natchalnik President, chief, head. 
 
 Nu, nu-s, nu-ka Well. 
 
 Oh (okh) Oh. 
 
 Papasha Diminutive of papa.
 
 GLOSSARY. 773 
 
 Pavina Diminutive of Pava. 
 
 Platok . , Handkerchief, or kerchief, shawl. 
 
 Pomyeshchik Proprietor, land-owner. 
 
 Predvoditel Marshal, leader of the nobility. 
 
 Proshchai, proshcha'ite . . , Good-by. 
 
 Prikashchik Superintendent. 
 
 Pud Forty pounds. 
 
 Reka River, wide ditch. 
 
 Rotraistr gvardi Captain of the guard. 
 
 Ruble (100 kopeks) 50-. 80 (whether paper or silver). 
 
 Samovar Tea-urn. 
 
 Sazhen 7 feet, 2.134 meters. 
 
 Serozha Diminutive of Sergei. 
 
 Shafer Groomsman. 
 
 Shapka Cap. 
 
 Shch i Cabbage soup. 
 
 Shuba, shubka Fur garments. 
 
 Shuler One who cheats at cards. 
 
 Shliupik Mushroom. 
 
 Skotnik Cow-herd. 
 
 Starik Old man, boss. 
 
 Starosta Elder. 
 
 Starshina Elder, chief of a commune. 
 
 Sudar Sir. 
 
 Swiss, shveitsar; Ger. Schweit- 
 zer Inside man. 
 
 Tanchurotchka Diminutive of Tania. 
 
 Tarantas Travelling wagon. 
 
 Tabula rasa Blank tablet (Latin). 
 
 Tchin The order of official rank established 
 
 by Peter the Great. 
 
 Tchinovnik Official. 
 
 Telyega Cart, wagon. 
 
 Tiurka (pi. tiurki) Bread-crumb soaked in fcpa^. 
 
 Topchatchek Flail. 
 
 Troika Three-horse team. 
 
 Tulup, tuluptchika .... Sheep-skin vest or coat. 
 
 Verst 663 mile, 1.067 kilometer. 
 
 Vodka Brandy. 
 
 Vot Here. 
 
 Zakuska Lunch. 
 
 Xt-niski doktor The communal doctor. 
 
 Zemstvo Territorial assembly.
 
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