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 BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

CHlLDHOOD, BOYHOOD, AND YOUTH . I.50

lVAN lLYlTCH I.25
MY RELlGlON I.00
MY CONFESSlON I.00
WHAT TO DO? I.25
THE lNVADERS I.25

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY,

PUBLISHERS,
I3 ASTOR PLACE, NEW YORK.
ANNA KAE^NINA.

BY

COUNT LYOF N. TOLSTOI.

IN EIGHT PARTS.

TRANSLATED BY

NATHAN HASKELL DOLE.

NEW YORK:
THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.,
I3 Astok Place.
 Copvrioht, 1886,
Bv T. Y. CBOWELL & CO.

ELECTROTYPE© AND PRINTED

BY HAND, 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,
"Ahxa Karenisa."
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 Russiaa
original at hand. It is a novel which, in spite of some
fanlts 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 " Romola."
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 anspices, 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 beanties of Nature and the
pleasures of the family." This contrast will strike the
attention of every reader. It is the outgrowth of Count
iii
iv INTRODUCTION.
Tolstoi's own life, a brief sketch of which may be accept
able.
Count Lyof Nikolayevitch Tolstoi was born on the 28th
of Angust, o. s. l828, at Yasnaia Polyana, in the Govern
ment of Tula. His father was a retired lientenant-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 Volkonskaia, the only
danghter 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
stndies in the university. But the following summer the
father died snddenly, 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 annt, 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. In l840 the Countess Osten-Sacken died ;
and all the Tolstois were taken by their paternal annt,
Pelagia Ilinishna Yushkovaia, who lived with her husband
at Kazan. Nikolai left the University of Moscow, and
entered that of Kazan.
In I8.I3 Count Lyof also entered the university, and took
up the stndy 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
snddenly determined to leave the university without gradu
ation, and returned to Yasnaia Polyana, where he lived until
l851. In that year his favorite brother, Nikolai, came home
from the Cancasus, 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 tlte 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 yunker in the fourth battery of the Twen
tieth Artillery Brigade, where his brother held the rank of
captain.
Here in the Cancasus, 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" (Dyetstvo), " Adolescence "
(Otrotchestvo), and "Youth" (Yunosl). "Youth" was
published m l852, in the " Contemporary " (Sovremennik).
In the Cancasus he also wrote his popular sketches of war-
life, "The Incursion" {Nabyeg), "The Cutting of the
Forest" (Rabka Lyesa), and his novel, "The Cossaks "
(Komki), which did not appear till later.
Count Tolstoi lived nearly three years in the Cancasus,
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 owu
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, " Yonth " (Yitvost), which he had written in Cir-
cassia, as well as the tales, " Sevastopol in Angust," " 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 [krestyanins] , in l80l,
stirred his interest in agronomic questions ; and, like Kon-
stantin Levin, he went to stndy 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 jndge, of the peace
[mirovo'i mdyd], and was interested in the establishment of
a pedagogical journal, called after the name of the place,
" Yasuaia Polyana." In I862 he married Sofia Andreyevna
Beers, the danghter of a Moscow doctor, who held a chair in the
vi INTRODUCTION.
university, and whose wife's family estates were situated
not far from Yasnaia Polyana. He had already published his
story, "War and Peace" [ Voind i Mir] , which described the
events of the year l8I2 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 I873 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 l875 Count Tolstoi began the publication of " Anna
Karenina " in the pages of the "Russian Messenger"
[Itusski 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 consistency. 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 aliuses. 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 Aleksei Aleksandroviteh Karenin is spoken
of either as Anna Arkad}-evna, or simply as Karenina.
Thus, Prince Tverskoi and the Princess Tverskaia. 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, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch means
Alexis, the son of Alexander : Anna Arkadyevna means
Anna, the danghter of Arcadins. This nomenclature is a
relic of the patriarchal family system, and is paralleled in
many countries : as, for example, in Scotland, where Tam
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 kniuz 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
anthor, 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 trinmph 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"i Aleksandrovitcli Karenin.

Anna Arkadyevna Kar^nina.
Count Alekse'i Kirillovitch Vronsky (Alosha).
His mother, Countess Arronskaia.
Prince (Kniaz) Stepan Arkadyevitch Oblonsky (Stiva).
Princess (Kniagina) Darya Aleksandrovna Oblonskaia (Dolly, D6-
linka, Dashenka).
Konstantin (Kostia) Dmitriyevitch (Dmitrltch) Levin, proprietor of
Pokrovsky.
His half-brother, SergfSi Ivanovitch (Ivanuitch, Ivanitch) Eoznuishef.
Prince Aleksander Shcherbatsky.
Princess Shcherbatskaia.
Their daughter, Ekaterina (Kitty, Katyonka, Katcrina, Katya) Alek
sandrovna Shcherbatskaia, afterwards Levina.
viii
 ANNA KARENINA.

PART I.
" Vengeance is mine, I will repay."

I.
All happy 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 Oblonsky — 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 KARtNINA.
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 snddenly 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.
Yes, but this Darmstadt was in America. Yes, Alabin gave
a dinner on glass tables, yes, and the tables sang, ' II mio
tesoro:' 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 joy and he smiled as
he thought, " Y«, 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 lotlnge, 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
he hung his dressing-gown. And then he snddenly 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
fanlt.
" No ! she will not and she can not forgive me. And
what is the worst of it, 'twas all my own fanlt — my own
fanlt, and yet I am riot to blame. It's all like a drama," he
thought. " Ach ! ach ! ach ! " he kept murmuring in his
despair, as he revived the unpleasant memories of this
quarrel.
Most disagreeable of all was that first moment whon
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 KARtNlNA. 7
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 cansed
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 w hen unexpectedly
canght in some shameful deed. He was unable to prepare
his face for the situation cansed 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, by a reflex action of the brain as
Stepan Arkadyevitch explained it, for he loved Physiology,
atisolutely in spite of himself he snddenly 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 hitter words, quite in accordance
with her natural temper, and fled from the room. tSince that
time she had not wanted to see her husband.
"That stupid smile cansed 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 Arkadvevitch 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
8 ANNA EA R&NINA.
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
fingers. 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 how 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 her 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 hasty 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 londly rang the bell. It was answered by his old friend,
the valet de chambre Matve, 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.
 A NNA KARtNINA. 0
. . . "On the breakfast-table," replied Matve, looking
with inquiry and interest at hi.s master, and after an instant's
panse 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 Sunday, and till then that
you and I should not be annoyed without reasou," said he,
with a phrase apparently ready on his tongue.
Prince Stepan perceived that Matve wanted to jest and
attract attention to himself. He tore open the telegram
and read it, guessinsr 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 Matve.
Stepan Arkadyevitch could not speak, as the barber was
engaged on his upper lip, but he lifted one linger. Matve
nodded his head toward the mirror.
" Alone. Get her room ready? "
" Report to Darya Aleksandrovna, and let her decide."
"To Darya Aleksandrovna? 'l 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 try 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
Matve, stepping slowly with squeaking boots, and holding the
10 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 Matve 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 Arkadyeviteh was silent.
Then a good-humored and rather pitiful smile lighted up his
handsome face.
" Hey? Matve?" he said, shaking his head.
'•It's nothing, sir; she will come to her senses," an
swered Matve.
" Will come to her senses? "
" £</saetly."
" Do you think so? — Who is there?" asked Stepan Ar
kadyeviteh, 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, Mutri'tsha? " asked Stepan Arkadye
viteh, meeting her at the door.
Notwithstanding the fact that Stepan Arkadyeviteh 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, Darya'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 yon've got
to . . ."
" 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 Arkadyeviteh,
snddenly blushing. — " Very well, let "me have my things,"
said he, turning to Matve, and resolutely throwing off his
dressing-gown.
Matve bad every thing all ready for him, and stood
blowing off invisible dust from the shirt stiff as a horse
 ANNA KARtNINA. 11
collar, in which he proceeded with evident satisfaction to
invest his master's luxurious form.

in.
Having dressed, Stepan Arkadyevitch sprinkled himself
with cologne, straightened the sleeves of his shirt, according
to his wont, filled his pockets with cigarettes, portemonnuie,
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 lettera 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 wiLh 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 cansed by his
desire to sell the forest, this thought worried him.
Having finished his letters Stepan 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,
inclnding 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 KARtNINA.
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 prond 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, becanse of the slight haziness which it cansed
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 KARlCNINA. 13
was reported to have left for Wiesbaden, that there was to
lk; no 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 becanse there was any thing extraordinarily pleasant in
bis mind, but the joyful smile was cansed 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 yon, you can't put passengers on top," cried the
little girl in English. — " 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 langhingly 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 dangh
ter's smooth, soft neck. " How are you? " 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 diasem
14 ANNA KAR&NINA.
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 stndy,
but she told me to go with Miss Hull over to grandmother's."
"Well, then, run along, Tmichumtchku 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 (irisha? " 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 carriage is at the door," said Matve, and he added,
" A woman is here to ask a favor."
"Has she been here long?" demanded Stepan Arkadye-
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 Matve 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 legiolc
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 stoml 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 — bis 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, becanse 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 KARtNINA. 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.
Darva Aleksandrovna , dressed in a koftotchka (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 beantiful, 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 cansed 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.
When she saw her husband, she thrust her hands into the
drawers of the burean and did not lift her head until he was
close to her. Then in place of the severe and determined
16 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 J " 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 per
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 tranquilly ; but when he saw
his wife's anguish, and heard her piteous cry, 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 check 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 KAR&NINA. 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
fanlt. ... I am ready to do any thing. I am sorry ! Words
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, becanse 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 gratitnde, and made a movement as though he would
take her hand, but she avoided him with abhorrence.
" I have consideration for my children, and I 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 i>ossible? "
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.
" Yon. are revolting to me, you are insulting," she cried
with increasing anger. "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 related 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 in the next room be
18 ANNA KAR&NINA.
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 Obion sky, who
had noticed the effect 6u 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. " Matve 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 Arkad\-evitch 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. '• 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
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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 Matrioua Kilimonovna 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 than
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 don'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 being forgot her sorrow.

V.
Stkpajj Arkadvevitch 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 ruitchalnik, 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 Aleksaiidrovitch
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 Arkadyevitch, a hundred other people
20 ANNA KAR&NINA.
— brothers, sisters, cousins, uncles, annts — would have got
it for 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-
pan 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 becanse of his nat
ural good temper. He would have thought it ridiculous if
he had been told that he could not have any place that he
wanted, with the salary attached, becanse it did not seem to
him that he demanded any thing extraordinary. He only
asked for what his companions were 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 what was lack
ing in himself ; secondly, his absolute liberality, which was
 ANNA KAlltNINA. •21

not the liberalism for which his journal was responsible, but
that which flowed naturally in his veins, and cansed 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,
in 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 expeditioii 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.
We have at last succeeded in obtaining reports from the
Government of Penza. Permit me to hand them to you."
"So we have them at last," said Stepan Arkadyevitch,
pushing the papers away with his finger. " 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 nanghty
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 was 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
trnder, 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 KARtNINA.
colleagues, the aged veteran Nikitin, and the kammer-junker
Grinevitch, followed him.
"There'll be time enough to finish after luneh," said
Oblonsky. .
"I think so," replied Nikitin.
" This Famin must be a precious rascal," said Grinevitch,
allnding to one of the characters in the matter which thej
had been investigating.
Stepan Arkadyevitch knit his brows at Grinevitch's words,
as though to siguify that it was not the right thing to form
snap-jndgments, 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 sluipka, was lightly and
quickly 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 tbe 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 you 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 Stepan Arkad
yevitch, 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 KAR&NINA. 23
<hants 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 becanse, 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 becanse
he was vexed, and generally bringing with him new and un
expected ideas about life and things. Ktepan Arkadyevitch
langhed 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
Oblonsky took this ridicule in good part, like a man sure of
being in the right; while Levin, becanse he was not assured
in his own mind, sometimes got angry.
" We have been expecting you for some time," said Kte
pan Arkadyevitch, as he entered his oflice, 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 stndying his white hands, and hid iin
24 ANNA KAMtNINA.
gers with their long, yellow, and pointed nails, and his cuffs
with their huge, gleaming cuff-buttons. Oblonsky noticed
what he was doing, and smiled.
" Ah, yes," said he, " allow me to make you acquainted :
my 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 Oblonsky.
'•This is a sndden 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 play
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, jndgments ;
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 Arkadyevitch. "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 Grineviteh's hand.
Stepau Arkadyevitch smiled imperceptibly. " Didn't you
 ANNA KARtNINA. 2»
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 snddenly blushed, not as grown men blush without
perceiving it, but as timid and absurd boys blush; and it
made him grow still redder. 1t gave his intelligent, manly
face such a strange appearance that Oblousky 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?"
Stepan Arkadyevitch had long known that Levin was in
love with 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, becanse — 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 you, Zakbar
Nikititch." The secretary went off confused. Levin during
this little interview had collected his thoughts ; and, standing
26 ANNA KARtNINA.
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, becanse, becanse — 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 y0ii
will succeed. 'Tis well that yon 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.
"Becanse" — replied Oblonsky; "but we will talk
things over by and by. 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 you 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 live. Kitty is off skating. Good-by now :
I will join you later, and we will go and get dinner together."
" Excellent. Ait revoir! "
Levin left the room, and only remembered when he had
passed the door that he had forgotten to salute Oblonsky's
colleagues.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 27
" That must be a man of great energy," said Grinevitch,
after Levin had taken his departure.
" Yes, bdliushka " (papa), said Stepan Arkadyevitch, throw
ing his head back. " He is a likely fellow. Three thousand
desyatiits (8,l00 acres) in the Karazinsk district! He has a
future before him, and how young he is ! He is not like the
rest of us."
" What have you to complain about, Stepan Arkadye
viteh?"
" Yes, every thing goes wrong," replied Stepan Arkadye
viteh, drawing a deep sigh.

VI.
When OMousky asked Levin what had brought him to
Moscow, Levin blushed, and he was angry becanse 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 stndying 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
was following the same course of stndy. 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
nobility, 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 fanlts
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 stndents were at work ; why
professors of French literature, of music, of dancing, of
28 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 Tverakoi
boulevard, and, under the protection of a liveried valet
with a gilt cockade on his hat, walk up and down in their
satin n/iubkas, 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
passed in this mysterious sphere was perfect, and from the
mystery arose his love.
Even while he was a stndent 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
only 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 family became more
distant, in spite of the friendship which attached him to
Ohlonsky. At the beginning of the winter, however, after
a year's absence in the country, 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 •ShcherbatskaYa in marriage, and
probably Levin would have been received with open arms,
Bnt ln; was in love. Kitty in his eyes was a creature so ac
complished, her superiority was so ideal, and he jndged him
self so severely, that be 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, as in a dream, meet
ing Kitty every day in society, which he allowed himself to
frequent on account of her, he snddenly took his departure
for the country, having conclnded 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 KARiNINA. 29
like Oblonsky, but he — and he knew very well how he was
regarded by his friends — was only a pomi/eslicltik, 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 woidd be impos
sible for him to love a woman who was not beantiful, brilliant,
and poetic.
But, having spent two months in the solitnde 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 woidd refuse Jiim.
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.
Comivo to Moscow by the morning train. Levin had
stopped at the house of his half-brother, Koznuishcf. 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
so ANNA KARtNINA.
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 weleomed his brother with the same
coldly benevolent 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 loug 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 stndied 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 geing 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 anthorities, 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 Knanst 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 KARtNINA. 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-
oviteh.
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, Sergei Ivanovitch turned
to his brother. " I am very glad to sec 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.
82 ANNA KARtNINA.
" How is it with the zpmxtro ? " 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 any 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 onr character that we are willing to con
fess our fanlts, 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 Europe, 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 pat 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 Trubin, the amount of which I paid. . But
 ANNA KAR tNINA. 33
this is what he wrote me," and Sergei Ivanoviteh 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
Ivanoviteh; '•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 Viy all means, if it will give you any pleasure," said
Sergei Ivanoviteh; "but I would not advise it. Not becanse
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 you."
" 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 Ivanoviteh ; "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 ' ahjectness.' 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 fmd the Shcherbatskys, he went where he was
told that he would meet Kitty.
IX.
About four o'clock Levin left his issvoshchik (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 KARtNINA.
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 beantiful 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 mlazkax (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 he
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 Chan•s, and making awkward
 ANNA KARtNINA. sr.
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, becanse 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 aa
though it was enough for them that the ice was good and tho
weather splendid.
Nikolai Shcherbatsky, 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 hud 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 conlidence. 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 tfay. She looked at Levm, 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 weleome. Never in his imagina
tion had she seemed so charming.
Whenever he thought of her, he could easilv 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 beanty 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.
3f, ANNA KARtNlNA.
" When did vou pome? " she asked, giving him her hand.
"Thank you," she added, as he stooped to pick up hei
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 fit 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 xkate together.' she said. Shall I speak now? But
I am afraid to speak, becanse I am happy, happy with hope.
But when ? But it must be, it must, it must. Dowu 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.
 ANyA KARtiyiNA. 37
"I should learn very quickly with you," she said. "I
somehow feel confidence in you."
" I am coufideiit 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 clond, 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.
" \Vhy so? No, nothing disagreeable has happened to
me," she said coolly, and immediately continued, "Have
you seen Mile. Linon yet?"
"Not yet."
" Go to see her : she is so fond of you."
"What does this mean? I have offended her ! OGod!
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 rememher that you called them so?"
He had entirely forgotten it. but she had langhed 'at this
pleasantly for ten years, and still enjoyed it. " Now go, go
and skate. Doesn't our Kitty take to it beantifully?"
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, aml he felt troubled.
After speaking of the old governess and her eccentricities,
she asked him about his own life. " Don't you 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 KAlttNINA.
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.
!Shc 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 cafi 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 ShcherbaUky.
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 equilibrinm, 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 fanlt? 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 danghter 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 KAR&NINA. 39
This hanghtiness 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 you, I hope."
At this moment Stepan Arkadyevitch 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 oue to me."
"At the English hotel, then," said Stepan Arkadyevitch,
who chose this restanrant becanse he owed more there than
at the Hermitage, and it seemed unworthy of him, so to
speak, to avoid it. "You have an izvoahchik? So much
the better, for I sent off my 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 restanrant.
" What? " exclaimed Levin. . . . "Turbot? Yes, I am
excessively fond of turbot."
X.
Lf.vin could not help noticing, as they entered the restan
rant, how Stepan Arkadyeviteh's face and whole person
seemed to shine with restrained happiness. Oblonsky took
40 ANNA KARtNINA.
off his overcoat, and, with hat on one side, marched towards
the dining-room, giving, as he 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 small 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 langhter. 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 trinmph 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, oysters ! "
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."
" Flensburg 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'J;
get them here."
 ANNA KARtNINA. 41
" Kasha a 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 expression of disappointment on
Oblonsky's face, " that I do not appreciate your menu. I
can eat a good dinner with pleasure."
" It should he more than that! You should say that it is
one of the pleasures of life," said Stepan Arkadyevitch.
"In this case, little brother mine, give us two, or — no,
that's not enough ; three dozen oysters, vegetable soup " —
" Printani&re," 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 sance not
too thick ; then roast bL'ef, 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 he
had fiiiished ; then he gave himself the pleasure of repeating
the bill of fare according to the rule : " Potage printaniire,
turbot, sauce Beanviarchais, poularde a I'estragon, maeddoine
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 Arkadvevitch.
" 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?"
" Cac/wt Wane," 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 yuits; no, hold on, — give us some classic chablis."
"It shall be done, sir; and shall I give you some of
your cheese ? ' '
" Yes, some parmesan. Or do you prefer some other
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 KARtNINA.
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 r 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
Oblonskv. 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 you are pre-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 restanrant, 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. You 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, langhing.
" 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
this that we are doing here. In the country we make haste
 ANNA KAR£NINA. 4o
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 arc 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 inviiution."
•• What an idea ! It was only her grunde dame manner,"
replied Stepan Arkadyevitch. " I shall come there immedi
ately after a musicale at the Countess Bonina'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, I am a savage ; but it was not my departure, but
my return, that proves me one. I have come now " —
"Are you happy?" interrupted Oblonsky, 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 you 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 KAEtNINA.
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 mc 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
trembhng voice, and feeling the muscles of his face quiver.
" How do you look upon the affair? "
Stepan Arkadyevitch slowly drank his glass of chablis
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 gills in existence, participating in all the
fanlts 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 sance," said he, stopping Levin's
hand, who was pushing away the sance-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 kar£nina. 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 you
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 you what I think," said Stepan Arkadyevitch
smiling. " But I will tell you 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-
skaia : no one would believe it, and yet it came to pass.
Well, my wife is on your side."
" What do you meanf "
" 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 an
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
becanse 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
lam becoming selfish, and forgetting every thing ; and yet
this very day I heard that my brother Nikolai — you know
him — is here, and I hail entirely forgotten him. It seems to
40 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 tetrible that
we who are already getting old dare not approach a pure aml
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 Arkadyevitch.
"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 iheir glasses. "You must know that
Vronsky is a rival of yours."
"Who is this Vronsky?" asked Levin, whose face, a
moment since beaming with youthful enthusiasm, snddenly
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-s! 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 KAR&NINA. 47
"Excuse me, but I don't understand at all," interrupted
Levin, scowling still more fiercely. He snddenly 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 your 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.
" No, thank you : 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
viteh. " Go to-morrow morning, make your proposal in
classic style, and God he 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 any 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 bakery."
Stepan Arkadyevitch's eyes sparkled more than usual.
"Why not? Bread sometimes smells so good, that one can
not resist the temptation : —
48 ANNA KARtNINA.
" Himmlisch ist's, wenn ich bezumngen
Mi lne, irdinche Begier :
Aber duch wmtnu's nicht gelunt/en,
Halt ich auch rccltt huebsch Plaisir." 1

As he repeated these lines, Oblonsky smiled. Levin could

not refrain from smiling also. " But a truce to pleasantries,"
continued Oblonsky. " 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 beantiful
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 stndy 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 langhing. " 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 ! "
i It was heavenly when I gained
What my heart dcxired on earth:
Yet if all were not attained,
Still I had my share of mirth.
 ANNA KAIOSNINA. 4<)
" If yon want me to confess what I think, I will tell you
that I don't believe in this drama, and this is why. In my
opinion. Love — the two Loves which I'hito describes in
his " Symposinm," 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 spcak of this
drama. In this sort of love there can be no drama. ' Much
obliged to you fur the pleasure you, have given me ; ' and
therein consists the whole drama. But Platonic affection
cannot make a drama, becanse 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 you see," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, "you are a
man of perfect purity? Your great virtue is your only fanlt.
And becanse 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, becanse 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 beanty
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 snddenly 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 mc 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 Oblonsky after what had
been said with Levin, who always kept his mind on tho
•itrain, and wearied him.
50 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 bis 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 trinmphs 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 dibut, were serious aspirants
to her hand, — Levin, and, soon 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 canse
for serious conversation between her father and mother.
The prince and princess had lively 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 sndden leave for the country she was delighted,
and said, with an air of trinmph, to her husband, " You see,
I was light." 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 becanse Levin, though he
 ANNA KARtNINA. 51
was in love with her danghter, and had been a frequent vis
itor at their house for six weeks, had appeared like a man
who was hesitating, watching, and questionmg 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
danghter, to declare his intentions? And then his sndden
departure without informing any one! "It 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 annt, she was thirty years old. Her Jianci, 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 official 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 danghters 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
danghters : he was distressingly jealous of them, especially
of Kitty, his favorite, and at every opportunity he accused
his wife of compromising his danghter. The princess had
become accustomed to these scenes from the davs of her
elder danlfhters, but she confessed that her husband's strict
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 ditticult. She saw how
52 ANNA KARtNINA.
Kitty's young 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 thcm 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, was 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 Ihose without danghters to say this ; but
the princess knew well, that if she allowed Kitty to enjoy
the society of young men, she ran the risk of seeing her fall
in love with 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 belter 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
solicitnde than either of the other danghters had.
Just at present her fear was that Vrousky 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 m 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
Vrousky during a mazurka, and this conversation seemed
 ANNA KARtNINA. f>3
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 thmg 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 day, 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 danghter, Dolly, who was
thinking of leaving her husband, she was completely ab
sorbed in her anxieties about her youngest danghter's fate,
which seemed to be trembhng in the balance. Levm'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
danghter, 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, — I beg of you. I
know, I know all ! "
She felt as her mother felt, but the motives that cansed
her mother to feel as she did were repugnant to her.
" I only want to say that as you have given hope to one " —
"Mamma, galubchik [darling], don't speak. It's so ter
rible to. speak alwnt this."
" I will not," replied her mother, seeing the tears in her
eyes : " only one word, moya dnsha [my soul] ; you have
promised to have no secrets from me."
64 ANNA KARtNINA.
" Never, mamma, never! " looking her mother full in the
face and blushing: "but 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.

xnr.
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 im|K,ssible 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 m 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 Levm. The fnend
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 prond of it. On the other hand, she felt uneasy
when she thought about Vronsky, 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 Vronsky
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 salon, the
servant announced, " Koustantin Dmitritch Levin." The
princess was still in her room : the prince had not yet come
down. "It has come at last," thought Kitty; and all the
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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
otTer himself. And mstantly 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
siich 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 ti ll 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 i4>0u her. She looked him full in the
face, with an air that seemed to implore his protection, and
extended her hand.
" I came rather earty, seems to me," said he, casting a
glance about the empty room ; and when he saw that he was
not mistaken, and that nothing would prevent him from speak
mg, 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 oil 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 KAR&NINA.
I meant — I came for this, that — be my wife," he mur
mured, not knowing what he had said, but feeling that he
had got through the worst of the diliiculty. 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
snddenly 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 eyes. 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
 ANyA KARtNINA. f,7

me from his imposing loftiness, or when he fails to honor me

with his learned conversation becanse I am too silly for him
to condescend to. I am enchanted that he cannot endure
uie." She was right, because the fact was, that Levin could
not endure her, and he despised her for being prond of what
she regarded as a merit, — her nervous temperament, her in
difference and delicate tcom 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 oiher
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 you 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 w hen he compared Moscow to
llabylon. "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."
" Ach! how so? But I shall make notes. Nn! 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 up ; 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 offiee," he said. " I
have come to stay several days."
"Something has happened to him," thought the Gountesa
58 ANNA KARtNINA.
Nordstone, as she saw Levin's stern and serious face,
" becanse he does not lannch 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 Vronsky," 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 beantiful eyes shone with deeper
tenderness, and that her smile expressed a joy mingled with
trinmph. He extended toward her his hand which was small,
but rathei 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 KARiNINA. 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 Nordstouc.
" It must be that my words impress you deep'y, 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 he 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 muzhikx, as during the winter that I spent at Nice with
my mother. Nice, you know, is melancholy anyway; 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
00 ANNA KAHtNINA.
unable. He kept saying to himself, "Now, I'll go;" and
still he waited as though he expected something.
The conversation turned on table-tipping and spiritism ;
and the Countess Nordstoue, who was a believer in 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."
" Becanse I 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 eye, ill
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
" Then, you think that I do not tell the truth? " And she
broke into an unpleasant langh.
" 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 o*
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 they 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 KARtNINA. 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 " —
" Becanse," interrupted Levin again, " every time you rub
wood with resin, you produce a certain and invariable eleetri-
cal action ; while spiritism brim invariable result, and
consequently its effects cannot ue 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 medinms to explain their miracles by a new force,
canuot 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 medinm." said
the Countess Marya Nordstone. "There is something so
entbusiastic 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 eyes met Levin's.
Her whole soul pitied him, becanse she felt that she was the
canse 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
not know that you were here. Very glatl to see you ! "
In speaking to Levin the prince sometimes iitsed titi (thou),
and sometimes vui (you). He took him by the arm, and
62 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 Koustantin Dmitriteh," 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."
Vronsk}7, 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 Vronsky 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 cansed him, the thought that he had asked her to
marry him ffattered 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
fanlt," she said to herself, although an inward voice whis
 A NNA KARtNlNA. 03
pered the contrary. Ought she to reproach herself for
having been attracted to Leviu, 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 danghter.
•'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 dignity : you are ruin
ing your danghter 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 dangh
ter, and though she had not ventured to breathe a word of
Kitty's rejection of Levin, she allowed herself to allnde 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 tiutkof" [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 danghter 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 danghter married ;
and. in that case, we might just as well go into the country. "
" That certainly would be better."
64 ANNA KARtNINA.
"But listen! Have I made anv 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. I5uL 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! aeli, Nice! ach, the ball! " Here the prince,
attempting to imitate his wife, made a courtesy at every
word. " We shall be very prond when we have made our
Kationka unhappy, and when, ou 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."
"Nu! 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.
Vroxsky 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 KARtNINA. 65
As soon as the brilliant young officer had graduated, he
began to move in the highest military circles of Petersburg.
Though he occasionally 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 hfe 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 estabhshed 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 marnage. 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 cansed by her love for him. " How
charming that, without either of us saymg any thing, we
understand each other so perfectly through this mute lan
66 ANNA KAPtNINA.
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. I feel that I have a heart, and
that there is something good in me. Those gentle, lovely
eyes ! When she said — Nu! 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 • club,' a band of bezique, and some cham
pagne with Ignatof? No, not there. The Chateau des
Fleurs, to find Oblonsky, songs, and the cancan ? No, it's a
bore. And this is just why I like the Shcherbatskys, — be
canse I feel better for having been there. I'll go home ! "
He went to his room at Dusseanx's, ordered supper, and
scarcely touched his head to the pillow before he was sound
asleep.
XV H.
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 Oblon
sky, who had come to weleome 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-day."
" 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 Arkadyevitch 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 Oblonsky.
"Ah! indeed!"
 ANNA KAR0NINA. G7
" Honi soil qui moI y pewte! My sister Anna ! "
" Acli ! Madame Karenina? " asked Vronsky.
' 'Do you know her, then? "
"It seems to me that I do. Or — no — truth is, I don't
think I do," replied Vronsky somewhat confused. The
name Karenma 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 — nut in my line," said Vronsky in
English.
"Yes: he is a remarkable man, somewhat conservative,
but a famous man," replied Stepan Arkadyevitch. "A
famous man."
" JVu/ 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, becanse, in a certain way. it
brought him closer to Kitty. Therefore he took him by the
arm, and said gayly, "jVu/ 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 early."
" 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. They 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 employ^.
" It will be here directly," replied the employi.
The increasing bustle in the station, the coming and going
of the artehhehiks, the appearance of policemen and officials,
the arrival of expectant friends, all indicated the approach
G8 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 hoots 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, you are unjust towards my friend Ix;vin. 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 Vronsky, 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 your
beUe-xceitr?" [sister-in-law].
" Possiblv," replied Stepan Arkadyevitch : "this disturbed
me last evening. Yes, he went off so early, and was in such
bad spirits, that 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 KARtNINA. G9
and behind him came the more impatient of the travellers, —
an officer of the guard, with martial hearing : a small, smiling
merchant, with his grin-sack ; and a muzhik, with his bundle
slung over his shoulder.
Vronsky. standing near Oblonsky, watehed the sight, and
completely forgot his mother. What he had just heard about
Kitty cansed him emotion and joy : he involuntarily straight
ened himself ; his eyes glistened ; he felt that he had won a
victory.
'The Countess Vronskaia is in that coach," said the
ycithful-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 foi•ms, the more he felt in
his heart that he did not respect or love her.

XVIII.
Vronskv 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
beanty, her grace, or her elegance, but becanse 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 KARtNINA.
Vronsky went into the coach. His mother, an old lady
with little curls and black eyes, received him with a slight
smile on her thin lips. IShe 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.
" Nus! 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-
skaVa.
Vronsky now knew that ithewas Madame
" Y•our brother is here," said, rising. Karenina.
" 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 mdtushka 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, Al6shay" said the old countess.
Vronsky went out on the platform and shouted, " Oblon-
sky! here! "
But Madame Karenina did not wait for her brother ; as soon
as she saw him she ran out of the ear, 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 Karenina. " Her husband put her in my charge,
and I was delighted. We talked all the way. Nu ! and you?
 ANNA KARENINA. 71
They say vous Jilez le parfait amour. Tant mieux, mon
cIier, tant mieux." [" You are desperately ill love. So unieh
the better, u1y dear, so much the better."]
" I don't know what you allnde to, viaman," replied the
son coldly. " Come, muman. 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 I my
brother." she said gayly; "and I have exhansted my wlk,le
fund of stories. I shouldn't have had any thing more to
talk about."
" Na! 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 years
old," said the countess in explanation to her son : " 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 Karenina
turning to Vronsky ; and again her face broke out into the
caressmg smile which fascinated him.
"That must have been very tiresome," tossing lightly
hack 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
dehghted to feel its answering pressure firm and energetic.
Madame Karenina went out with light and rapid step.
"Very charming," said the old lady again.
Her son was of the same opinion ; and again his eyes
72 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 m which Vrou-
sky had no connection, and the young man was vexed.
"jV«/ has every thing gone well, raaman?" 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 sou by
the emperor.
"And there is Lavronty," said Vrousky, looking out the
window. " 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
Vrousky.
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 cunously colored furazhka (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 Vrousky with
Stepan Arkadyevitch went with the crowd to see what had
happened.
A train-hand, either from drunkenness, or becanse his ears
were too closely muliled 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 lackey before Vronsky and Oblonsky came back. The
latter had seen the disfigured body. Oblonsky was deeply
moved, and seemed ready to shed tears.
 AN\A KARtC.VINA. 73
1• Ach, how horrible ! Ach, Anna, if you had only seen it !
Ach, how 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 he done for her? " said Madame Karen-
ina in a whisper.
Vronsky looked at her, and saying, " I will be right back,
maman," 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 Karenina 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. " 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 precantious taken?" demanded
a third.
Madame Karenina 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
gone a little distance.
" It is an evil omen," she answered.
74 ANNA KARtNINA.
"What nonsense!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch. ^"Yon
are here, — that is the main thing. You cannot realize how
much I hope from your visit."
" Have you known Vronsky long? " she asked.
" Yes. You know we hope that he will marry Kitty."
" Really," said Anna gently. " Nn ! 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.
"Nu! tell me all."
And Stepan Arkadyevitch began his story. When they
reached the house he helped his sister from the carriage,
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 alond, and at the same time
twisting and trying to pull from his vest a button that was
hanging loose. I 1 is mot her 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 fmgers 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, — absolute^' 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 grande 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.
" I know nothing about her that is not good, and our rela
tions have always been good and friendly. ' ' To be sure, she
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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 shc
could tell how she had suffered, delighted her ; and now she
was pained becanse 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 cases, 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 cansed 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 you 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 her platok (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 moil [Good
heavens!] Tania! is that you, the playmate of my little
76 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 snddenly fdled
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 hanghty.
" 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 snddenly 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, (jalubchik [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 snddenly said. " But I shall tell
you every thing from the very beginning. You know how I
 ANNA KARtNINA. 77
was married. With the education that mamnn pave me,
I was not only innocent, | 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 snddenly learned all this horror — all this
dastardliness. Understand me. To believe absolutely in
his honor," continued Dolly, struggling to keep back her
sobs, " and snddenly to fmd 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 panse ; " but this hypocrisy,
this continual attempt to deceive me — And for whom?
It is frightful : you cannot comprehend."
" Ob, yes ! I comprehend : I-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 : \ know him. I could not look at him without
feeling sorry for him. We both of us know him. He is
kind ; but h\, is prond, and now how humiliated ! What
touched me most [Anna knew well enough that this would
touch Dolly also] are the two things that pained him : In
the first place, the children ; and secondly, becanse, 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 KARtNINA.
more than the innocent, if he knows that he is the canse of
all the trouble. But how can I forgive him ? How can I be
his wife after — To live with him henceforth would be all
the greater torment, becanse 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
beanty? 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 jealousy.
"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, becanse my
whole soul is in revolt ; instead of love, tenderness, I am filled
with nothing but hate, yes, hate ! I could kill him and " —
" Duxbeitk<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 sndden 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 foiget 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 KARtNINA. 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, dushenka,
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 you 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 I 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, • Dolly 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 sa}\ 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."
" Nu! of course," interrupted Dolly impetuously, as
though Anna had spoken her own thought — "otherwise it
would not be forgiveness. If you forgive, it must be ab
solutely, absolutely. — A/u! let me show you to your room,"
said she, rising, and throwing her arm around her sister-in-
law.
so ANNA KARtNINA.
" 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 Stepan Arkadyevitch
saw the possibility of a reconciliation.
Kitty came in soon after dinner. Her acquaintance with
Anna Arkadyevna was very slight, and she was not without
solicitnde as to the weleome which she would receive from
this great Petersburg lady whose praise was in everybody's
mouth, Bnt she soon felt that she had made a pleasing
impression on Anna Arkadyevna, who was impressed with
her youth and beanty, 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
sou ; 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," sail! 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 KARtNINA. 81
As soon as he had gouc, Anna sat down upon a sofa sur
rounded by the children.
Either becanse they saw that their mamma loved this new
annt, or becanse 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.
" Nit ! Nu! let us sit as we were before," said Anna, tak
ing her place.
And Grisha, prond and delighted, thrust his head under
his annt'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 always has a good
time? " asked Anna in a tune of gentle irony.
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 J find a ball tiresome? "
Kitty perceived that Anna foresaw what her answer would
be, —
" Becanse you 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 KARtNINA.
" 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 beantiful and
joyous. And then, by and by appears a footpath which
leads up to those heights, where every thing is bright and
beantiful. — 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 unpoctic appearance
of her husband, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch.
" I know a thing or two," continued Anna. " Stiva told
me, and I congratulate you : he pleased me very much. I
met Vrousky 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 rememWring 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 KARtNINA. 83
Anna, " and I should be very happy to meet her again and
I will go to-morrow. — Thank the Ix,rd, 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 annt
Anna.
" All together," she said, langhing, 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," replied
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^ cold and even tone.
"Ach! don't, Dolly, don't make mountains out of mole
hills! Nit! if you like, I will fix every 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 KARtNINA.
" 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 snddenly 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 hed before-
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 always 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 for me," 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, snddenly seized her
heart. He was standing with his coat on, and was searching
his pockets for something. At the moment that Anna
 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 fStepan Arkadyevitch"s lond
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 JStcpan 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 becanse 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 KARtNINA.
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 beanty, 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 KARtNINA. 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-adored bunhmaku, glided lightly
and rhythmicallv over the polishetl floor.
" It is restful to dance with you," said he ns he fell into
the slow measures of the waltz : " charming ! such lightness !
such predawn ! " This is what he said to almost all his
dancing acquaintances.
Kitty smiled at this enloginm, and continued to stndy 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 Koisunsky's wife, Lidi, a beanty in
outrageously low-cut corsage ; there was the mistress of the
mansion ; there was Krivin with shiny bald head, who was
alwavs 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 s»w that he was looking at her.
"Shall we have one more turn? You are not fatigued?"
asked Korsunsky, slightly out of breath.
" >'o, thank you."
" Where shall I leave you? "
" I think Madame Karenina 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, " 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 clond of tulle.
Korsunsky bowed, then straightened himself up, and offered
Kittv his arm to conduct her to Anna Arkadyevna. Kitty,
blusl ing a little, freed Krivin from the folds of her train,
and, just a trifle dizzy, went in search of Madame Kaienina.
88 AyNA KARtNINA.
Anna was not dressed in violet, as Kitty had hoped, but in a
low-cut black velvet gown, which showed her ivory shoulders,
her beantiful round arms, and her dainty wrists. Her robe
was adorned with Venetian guipure; on her bead, 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 beanty. 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 oaly 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 attitnde, 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 Arkadyevna. " 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 Vronsky joined them.
"Nu! if I can't help dancing, let ns dance," said she,
placing her hand on Korsunsky's shoulder, and not replying
to Vrousky's salutation.
 ANNA KARtNINA. SO
"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 ! Pardou! 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.
Vronskv took a few turns with Kitty, then she joined her
mother ; and after a word or two with the Countess Nord-
stone, 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 be 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 heat
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 ouc of those tiresome men whom she found it impossible
00 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 snddenly 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 trinmphant smile, her parted lips, and her
harmonious and graceful movements.
" Who has cansed 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
lond orders of Koisunsky, 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, " / tvordd not offend you. I would mue. my heart, and
hoiv 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 KARtNINA. 91
the great ball-room, a sndden 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 clond. 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 canght amid grasses, and ready 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 does this mean? " said the Countess Nord-
stone, coming to her with noiseless steps.
Kitty's lips quivered : she hastily arose.
" Kitty, aren't y0u dancing the mazurka? "
"No, — u0," 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
Shcherbatxkaiat' "
" Ach ! it's a'l 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 becanse she preferred some one else.
The countess .vent in search of Koisunsky. 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
tlutt 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
92 ANNA KARtNINA.
one in an intelligent dog, 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 Kominsky, 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 Arkadyevna," 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.
" Jso, 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 KARtNINA. 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. '• I am not popular with men. They
say it is pride. No, I am not prond : if I had been prond,
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. " Was he not right in saying that every thing in this
world was miserable and wretched? Have we been just in
our jndgment 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 snddenly 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
 ANNA KARtNINA.
exchange in payment of a gambling debt, and whom he had
cansed 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 Sergei
Ivanuitch, becanse 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 assanlting 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. l2 and I3," said the Swiss, in reply to
Levin's question.
" Is he at home? "
"Probably."
The door of No. I2 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 doorway, and saw
that the speaker was a young man, clad like a peasant, and
with an enormous shtipka 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
 AlfNA KARflNINA. or■
sank to think of the stranse 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.
"Ntt! the Devil take the privileged classes!" said his
brother's voice, after a fit of coughing.
" 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 eyes glared at his visitor with
a strange, uncanny light.
" Ah, Kostia ! " he cried, snddenly recognizing his brother,
and bis 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 Ivanuitch that I do
not know }-ou, 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 Konstantin Lev
in's memory whenever he thought about him ; and now when
he saw his face and the characteristic convnlsive 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 diffidence apparently disarmed Nikolai.
90 ANNA KARtNINA.
"Ah! did yon?" 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 fi iend of mine from Kief, a very remarkable man.
It seems the police are after him, becanse 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, becanse he had tried to found an aid society and Sun
day schools among the stndents ; 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 yon 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 myself."
"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 KARtNINA. 07
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 tire merchants
fatten at their expense, while they remain beasts of hurdov
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, prolits, 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 Sergei Ivanuitch don't like it becanse 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 prejndices of such men as you
and Serg<M 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 Sergei Ivanuitch? " asked
Levin, smiling.
"Sergei Ivanuitch? This is why!" cried Nikolai at the
mention of Sergei 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 KARtNINA.
" I don't despise any thing," said Konstantin gently : " I
only refrain from discussing."
At this moment Marya 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
msane, 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.
"I have not read it," replied Kritsky with a gloomy face,
evidently not wishing to take part in the conversation.
" Why ? "• demanded Nikolai irritably.
"Becanse 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-get-at-
able, becanse 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 NikolaY 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 Marya 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,"
Nikolai• saidwas
Levin she,just
looking timidly towards the door where
entering.
"What were you talking about?" he demanded with a
scowl, and looking from one to the other with angry eyes.
"Tell me."
 ANNA KARtNINA. 99
"Oh! nothing," replied Konstantin in confusion.
" You don't want to answer: all 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 every thing, and jndged every
thing, and that you look with scorn on the errors of my
ways."
He went on speaking, raising his voice.
"Nikolai Dmitritch! Nikola'i Dmitritch ! " murmured
Marya Nikolayevna, coming close to him.
" Nu! 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
sndden clond had passed.
" Nu! no more about Sergei Ivanuitch ! I am very glad
to see you. Henceforth people can't say 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 always have, and busy
myself with farming," replied Konstantin, 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 Vcmiushka [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 stndy-room?
Is Filipp, the gardener, still alive? How I remember the
summer-house and the sofa ! — Dal 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 KARtNINA.
" Then come now with me," said Konstantin. "How well
we would get along together! "
" I would come if I weren't afraid of meeting Sergei Ivan-
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 I 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 becanse " —
"Why? why?"
Konstantin could not say that it was becanse Nikolai• was
sick, and needed 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 pndgy 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 Nikolai, and she took the
vodka.
" There ! Do yon 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.
" Da t don't say vui [youJ to her. It frightens her. No
one said viti to her except the justice of the peace, when
they had her up becanse she wanted to escape from the
house of ill fame where she was. My God ! how senseless
every thing is in this world ! " he snddenly exclaimed. " These
new institutions, these justices of the peace, the zemstco,
what abominations ! "
 ANNA KARtNINA. 101
And he began to relate his experiences with the new insti
tutions.
Konstantin 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.
" lu the next world? Och! I don't like \-our next world,
I don't like it." he repeated, fixing his timid, haggard eyes
on his brother's face. " And yet 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 shnddered. " Da! drink something !
Would yon 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 Konstantin 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 kaftan, 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 Ignat 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 KARtNINA.
ensconced himself in his seat, and began to think what orders
he should have to give as soon he readied home, and at the
same time examined the off-horse, w hich 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
dav 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 hfe, 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 sleepy 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.
" 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 KARtNINA. 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 filled 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
lier 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 shall not become another ; but thou
shalt still be as thou hast always 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 p0ssi-
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 begun 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 came 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 he-
canse he had neglected the precantions 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 beantiful 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 KARtNINA.
around from their beds of fresh straw. The shiny black
and white back of his Holland cow gleamed in the obscurity.
Berknt, 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 beantiful 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 Fava, 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 way, 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 beanty?" turning towards
his prikuslichik, forgetting, in his joy over the new-born calf,
the grief cansed 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, Konstantin Dmitritch," replied the
prikashchik. " I have already spoken to you about the
machine." This single phrase brought Levin hack 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 bis mother, but this remem
brance was sacred ; and his future wife, as he imagined her,
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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 bis fnends, 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.
When 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, btUi-
ushka," — 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 canght the thread of his
thoughts, awakened by his reading. It was a book of Tyn-
dall. on heat. He remembered his criticisms on Tyndall'a
satisfaction in speaking of the results of his experiences,
and his lack of philosophical views, and snddenly a happy
thought crossed his mind : " In two years I shall have two
Holland cows, and perhaps Pava herself will still be alive,
and possibly a dozen of Berkut's danghters will have been
added to the herd! Splendid!" And again he picked up
his book. "JVu/ very 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 Pavina's danghter
grows into a cow with red and white spots, what a herd I
106 ANNA KARtNINA.
shall have with those three ! Admirable I And my wife
and I will go out with our guests to sec 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 Mikhaflovna: "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, bdtiushka? It's time I knew how
to read my masters. Grew up with my masters since they
were children ! No matter, biUiushka : 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 Arkadyevna sent her
husband a telegram, announcing that she was going to leave
Moscow that day.
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 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. Dolly and Anna dined alone with the
children and the English maid. It was either becanse 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 snddenly ceased playing with their annt, 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
quiekry, 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.
" I was so loath to come away from Petersburg, and now I
don't wanl 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 you, God knows what would have been ! How
fortunate you arc, 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 KAR&NINA.
" What skeletons have you, pray? In you every thing is
serene."
"I have mine!" cried Anna snddenly; and an unex
pected, crafty, mocking smile hovered over her lips in spite
of her tears.
" Nu! in your case the skeletons must be droll ones, and
not grievous," replied Dolly 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 cars, even to the dark curls that played about
the back of her neck..
" Da! " Anna proceeded. " Do vou 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 ■nemndzhko [not much].
"Oh, how exactly you said that like Stiva ! " remarked
Dolly, langhing.
Anna was vexed. "Oh, no! Oh, no! I am not like
Stiva," said she, frowning. " I have told you this, simply
becanse 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 l>e in despair if I felt that there could be
any thing serious on bis part," interrupted Anna ; " but I am
convinced that all will be quickly forgotten, and that Kitty
will not long be angry with me."
" In the first place, Anna, to tell the truth, I should not be
 ANNA KARtNINA. 109
very sorry if this marriage fell through. It would be vastly
better for it to stop right here if Vronsky can fall in love
with you in a single day." .
" Ach! 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 I 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 I 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 departure came Stepan Arkndye-
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. Proshchai [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 KAR&NINA.
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 Aunushka
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, aa he passed with
the suowflakes 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 sndden 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. Anuushka 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 snddenly 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? " 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 KARtNINA. Il1
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 Vronsky, seemed to say, " Warmly,
very warmly, passionately." . . . "Nu! 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 langhed out lond with the joy
that snddenly took possession of her. She felt her nerves
grow more and more excited, her eyes open wider and wider,
her fingers clasped convnlsively, 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 frout 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 istnpnik (stove-tender). She
saw him look at the thermometer, and noticed how the wind
and the snow came blowing in as he opened the dooi ; 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
clond ; 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 KAR&NINA.
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. iShc 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, every thing 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 gayly, 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 KARtNINA. 113
coat, who came close to ber. She looked up, and in an
instant recognized Vrousky'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 canse 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. fShe knew,
as truly as though he had told her, that it was becanse 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.
"Why did I come?" he repeated, looking straight into
her eyes. " You know that I came simply for this, — to be
where you 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 m 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 tem
pest ap|X!ared to her more beantiful than now. She had just
heard 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 I beg of you, if you are
a gentleman, to forget it, as I shall forget it."
" I shall never forget, and I shall never be able to forget
any 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 KARtNINA.
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, and 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 days, 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.
"Ach! Bozhe moil 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 protrnding 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, and 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 KARtNINA. 115

XXXI.
Vronskv 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 hanghty 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 becanse he saw that he had made an impres
sion upon Anna, — he did not fully realize that, as yet, — but
becanse 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. " 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 Vronsky for the
116 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 hurrying 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 jndgment.
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
inclnde the husband, and allow Aleksei 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 Aleksandrovitch looked
at him with displeasure, vaguely remembering who he was.
Vronsky's calm self-assurance struck upon Aleksei Aleksan
droviteh's cool superciliousness as a feather on a rock.
"Count Vronsky," said Anna.
 ANNA XARtNINA. 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. " 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 yon leave them?"
His manner toward his wife told Vronsky 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 during 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-
oiv/r will be delighted." He called the celebrated Countess
Lidia Ivanovna by the nickname of the Samovar (tea-urn),
becanse she was always and everywhere bubbling and boiling.
'•She has kept asking tfifter you ; and do you know, if I
make bold to advise yon, you would do well to go to see her
to-day. You see, her heart is always sore ou 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 anv other reason, belonged.
" Da! But didn't I write her? "
" She expects to have all the details. Go to her, my
118 ANNA KAMSnINA.
dear, if you are not too tired. Nu ! Kondrato will call your
carriage, and I am going to a committee-meeting. I shall
not have to dine alone this time," continued Alekaei 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 oi
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.
" I knew it was ! "
But the sou, 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 liis
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 Ivanovna was 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.
" Nu ! 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-satur is
too hasty."
 ANNA KARtNINA. 119
But the Countess Lidia, 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
ef 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 only 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, becanse 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. " Was she very irritable to-day?
But at any rate, it is ridiculous : her aims arc 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 canseless shame, and the trouble from
which she had suffered so strangely during her journey, now
completely disappeared. Under th<; 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 KARtNINA.
night before. " What was it? Nothing. Vronsky said a
foolish thing, to which it is idle to give any 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
s%e went into society, she, like all society women, might ex
pect such experiences, but that be 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.
ALKKsih Alf.ksandrovitch 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
andience to some petitioners who were waiting for him, and
to sign some papers brought him by his chief secretary.
The Karenins always had at least three visitors to dine
with them ; and to-day there came an old lady, a cousin of
Aleksei Aleksandrovitch's, a department direktor 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 Aleksei 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 solitnde 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 IStepan Arkadyevitch ; but the conversation remained
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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 Tverskaia'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 becanse 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 unfmished, 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 fpiiet and restful, and now .she saw clearly that all
that had seemed so important dming her railway journey
was only one of the ordinary insignilicant 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 yon 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 Aleksei 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 KARtNINA.
of his honest jndgment. 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 becanse 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 verv, 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.
" But you did not go out : was it very 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 de Lille — Poisie des
ew/ers," 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-
sandrovitch had doubts, and tried to solve them ; but in
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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.
" Nu! 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
carafe 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 ; upnght, 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 Aleksei 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 Aleksei
Aleksandrovitch. Having undressed, she went to her room ;
but in her face there was none of that animation which shone
m 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.
xxxrv.
Ov leaving Petersburg, Vronsky had installed his beloved
fnend and comrade, Petritsky, in his ample quarters on the
Morskaia. Petritsky was a young lientenant, not partic
ularly distinguished, and not only not rich, but over ears in
debt. Every evening he cameliome 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 chief"s. About eleven o'clock
in the morning, when Vrousky reached home after his jour
124 ANNA KAR&NINA.
ney, he saw at the entrance an izvoshchik'a carriage, which
he knew very well. From the door, when he rang, he heard
men's langhter and the lisping of a woman's voice, and Pe-
tritsky shouting, " If it's any of those villains, don't let 'em
in." Vronsky, not allowing his denshchik 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. Barnnessa. 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. JVu/ 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."
" Yon will spoil it." »
"No! I won't spoil it. Nu! and your wife? " said the
baroness, snddenly interrupting Vronsky's remarks to bis
companions. " We have been marrying you off. Did you
bring your wife? "
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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 langhter.
" 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 KARtNINA.
" 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 Vrousky.
" This evening at the ThMtre Frangais," 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 fancet of
his wash-basin, in which he was washing his handsome,
healthy neck: "it cannot be!" he cried. He had just
learned that Lanra was now under Fcrtinghof's protection.
" And is he as stupid and as conceited as ever? Nu! and
Buzulnkof?"
" Ach! Buzulnkof! 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 Vronsky, 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
Wiinted to point out one of the new helmets, and, seeing our
galubchik standing there [here Petritsky showed how he
stood in his helmet], she begged him to show her his hel
met. He did not bndge. What does it mean ? The fellows
 ANNA KARtNINA. 127
wink at him, make signs, scowl at him. 'Give it to her.'
He does not Siir. He 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. But,
as she turned it over, — you can imagine it, — out came, bukk !
pears, bon-bons, — two pounds of bon-bons ! He had been to
market, galubchik! "
Vronsky broke into a hearty langh ; and long afterwards,
even when speaking of other things, the memory of the
unfortunate helmet cansed him to break out into his good-
natured langh which showed his handsome, regular teeth.
Having learned all the news, Vronsky 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 KARtNINA.

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, stndied the same books, and consequently held
the same ideas, had decided that tins 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, becanse possibly he alone understood what
ailed his danghter. "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 KAR&NINA. 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 nol know what course to take. She
felt a little guilty in regard to Kitty.
"-STa/ Doctor, decide upon our fate: tell me all." She
wanted to say, " Is there any hope?" but her lips trembled,.
and she hesitated. "Nu! 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 becanse — and becanse — and
et ccetera. The celebrated physici.m 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,
theretore, 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 Yansa is finished yet, or whether one has to
go around? "
" It is finished."
" Dal Then I have only twenty 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 in a condition to prove, what
130 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 cansed 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 jndgment, the more becanse she felt
that she herself had been to blame.
"Will you 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 snddenly arose impatiently.
" Excuse me, doctor, but, indeed, this all leads to nothing.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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 danghter, 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, mamuit, but if you desire it, let
us go," said she; and in her endeavor to show what inter
est she took in the journey, she began to speak of their
preparations.

n.
Dollv knew that the consultation was to take place that
day ; and though she was scarcely yet able to go out, having
had a little danghter 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 bean
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 KARtNINA.
become as unpleasant as ever. Stepan Arkadyevitch 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 cansed 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.
" Ach, maman! we have so many tribulations. Lili is
sick a-bed, and I am afraW 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? Nu!
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 band : 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 \hc youngest, and therefore
her father's favorite danghter, 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 danghter. It is always the hair of some departed saint.
Nu ! Dolinka," turning to his eldest danghter, " 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?"
u No : he is always putting it off."
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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, 'Dal 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 bee a convicted of a crime. " Yes, he knows nil, 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
firades.
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 canse of her suffering. Ark! 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 Vronsky.
" 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 you that in all this trouble, you, you
alone, are the true culprit. There are laws against these
yeung 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. Das! 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.
"Alexandre! Alexandre!" she murmured, weeping, and
going up to him. The prince held his peace when he saw
her tears. " N» ! 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 KARtNINA.
great. God is merciful. — Thank you!" 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 telTyou? "
" No, she did not say any thing to me about either of
them : she is too prond. But I know that all this comes
from "—
" 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 ' '—
" Maritan, I am going to see her."
" 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 KARtNINA. 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
kaow 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
fer bim," continued Darya Aleksandrovna, coming right to
the point.
"Do/ becanse he jilted me!" murmured Kitty, with
trembling voice. " Don't speak of it, I beg of you ! "
" 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
aad 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 yon were sad "—
Kitty in her anger did not heed lter.
" I have nothing to break my heart over, and don't need
consolation. I am too prond to love a man who does not
love me."
"Z>a/ I do not say — I say only one thing — Tell me
the truth," added Darya 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 luickle
which she had torn from her belt, and with quick, indignant
gestures, cried, —
136 ANNA KARtNINA.
" 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 prond, and never, never
would I do what you have done, — go back to a man who had
been false to nie, 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 snddenly 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 hatmg 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."
"Dal but what evil thoughts can you have?" asked
Dollv, 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 KARtNINA. 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
mc, 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 case. Nu! what? The doctor — nu " —
Kitty stopped : she wanted to say further, that, since she
had felt this great change in herself, she coidd no longer see
Stepan Arkadyeviteh without the most extraordmary and
unpleasant conjectures arising in her mind.
" Nu! dtil every thing takes a most repulsive aspect in my
Bight," 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 mc now ! "
" I will go all the same. I have had scarlatina. I will
persuade viaman."
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 IShcherbatskys 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
Karenina 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 religions 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 KARtNINA.
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 Aleksci 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 Betsy 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 asylum."
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 KARtNINA. 139

and, if possible, spoke to her of his love. She made no ad

vances: hut 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 becanse he persisted in forcing himself u|K,n her;
but one evening when she was present at a house where she
expected to meet him, and he failed to come, she perceived
clearly, 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. "You are in love,
my dear ! "
"That is all that I ask for," he replied, with a smile of
good-humor, — "to be in love. 1f I complain, it is not
becanse I am not sufficiently in love ; for, to tell the truth,
I an: beginning to lose hope."
" What hope could you have?" asked Betsy, taking the
part of her friend: " entendons 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, langhing, 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 KARtNINA.
He knew very well that in Betsy's eyes, and in those of
her world, he run 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 Vrousky, 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 young 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 arc 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 langhs. They follow her on the double•
 1
ANNA KARtNINA. 141
quick. To their great surprise their beanty 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! 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. Snddenly a gentleman appears, red as a lobster, and
with side-whiskers like sansages, 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 san
sages?" demanded Betsy.
" But you shall see. I have just made peace between
them."
"Sul 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 KAR&NINA.
and he said very impndent 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 fanlt.' 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 impndence
of good-for-nothing young ' — And the impndent, 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 sansages begin to wag up and down,
and I find myself drowned in the waves of diplomatic subtle-
tics."
"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!'" 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 KARtNINA. 143
more ill, in consequence of her emotion, and of having ran
up the stairs. Venden 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 ; " hut
Petritsky is becoming unbearable. Not a week goes by
without some scandal. This Tchiuovnik will not stop here,
he will go farther."
VroHsky saw all the unpleasant consequences of this nffair,
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 becanse he
knew that he was a shrewd and gentlemanly man. and zealous
for the interests of the regiment. 1t was after their consul
tation that Vronsky, accompanied by Petritsky and Kerdrof,
had gone to carry their excuses to the titular counsellor, in
the hope that his name, and his epanlets 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 Vronsky 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 langhing 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 KARtNINA.
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 Bolshuia 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 stndied Kanlbach," said a diplomatist in the
group around the ambassador's wife. " E Id you notice how
she fell?"
"AchI 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 Prmcess Miag-
kaia, famous for her simplicity and frightful manners, and
8urnamcd 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
Kanlbach. 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 nanghty,"
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 KARtNINA. 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-room 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 Tushkievitch's love affair
with the Princess Betsy.
Around the samovw, 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 danghter — has had a costume in (hable mse?"
" Is it |x>ssible? 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 I Do you steal in upon a body that way ? How you
146 ANNA KARtNINA.
sturtled 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 chire. They invited my husband and me
to dinner, and I have been told that at this dinner, they had
a sance that cost a thousand rubles," replied the Princess
Miagkaia, in a lond voice caleulated to be heard by all ;
" and it was a very poor sance, too, — something green. I
had to return the compliment, and I got them up a sance
that cost eighty-five kopeks.1 Every one was happy. I
can't afford to make thousand-ruble sances, — not I."
"She is unique." said Betsy.
"Astonishing," said another.
The Princess Miagkaia never failed of cansing 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 subtde 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 very 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
Karenin 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.
i Oue ruble, or one hundred kopeks, ix worth eighty cents.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 147
" The change is due to the fact, that she brought buck in
her trainwife.
sador•s the shadow of Aleksei Vrousky," said the ambas
•-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 your tongues ! " 1 cried the Princess Miagkaia. as
she heard these words. "Madame Karenina 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 Aleksandrovitch as he
really is ; and in my opinion, he is a blockhead. I only
whisper it, but that gives mo some satisfaction. Once upon
a time, I used to think it was my fanlt becanse 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 fanlt, poor woman, if
everybody falls in love with her, and pursues her like
shadows?"
"X)a/ I do not allow myself to jndge her," said Anna's
friend, willing to avoid blame.
" Becanse no one follows us like a shadow, it's no sign
that we haven't the right to jndge."
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 Kareuins. 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,
i " Pipun vam t'a yaznikl" A slang expression, literally meuulng, "May your
tongue have the pip !
148 ANNA KARtNINA.
looking towards the door. "Ah! here you 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
Bouffea. 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 opera; 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 ! "
" Nu ! I will hold my peace the more willingly becanse 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 eves 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 earher, but I was detained. Sir John was there.
He is very interesting."
" Ach! that missionary? "
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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 lire 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 Vlasiefs is going to
marry Tapof ? "
" Yes : people say that the affair is fully decided."
" I am astonished that the parents arc willing."
" They say that it is a love-match."
"A love-match? What antediluvian ideas you 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 becanse 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 lictsy.
"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.
Vronsky 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.
 ANNA KARtNINA■

"I think," said Anna, playing with her glove, " that if
there are as many opinions as there are heads, then there are
as many ways of loving as there are hearts."
She turned quickly to Vronsky.
" I have just had a letter from Moscow. They write me
that Kitty Shcberbatskaia 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 you ? ' '
" I often think that men do not know what nobility means,
though they are all the time talkiug about it," said Anna,
not answering his question.
" I have been wanting to tell you 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
fanlt 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 KARtNINA. 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
yeu here : this must come to an end. I have never had to
blusb before any one before, and you canse me to feel guilty
in my own eyes."
He looked at her, and was struck with the new expression
of her beanty.
" 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.
" 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 — yes, 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 innx,ssible ? " 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
tome 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 j if it is impossible, order me to disappear, and I
 152 ANNA KARtNINA.
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, Aleksei 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.
Vronsky and Anna still sat near their little table. " That
is getting rather pronounced," said a lady in a whisper,
referring to Karenin, 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 Miagkaiia 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 cansed by her
» friends, executed a skilful maneeuvre 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 Aleksandrovitch pro
 ANNA KARtNINA. 153
posed to her to go home ; but she answered, without looking
at him, that she wished to remain to supper. Aleksei Alek-
sandrovitch took leave of the company and departed.
The Karenins' 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 coupd. 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 canght 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 related slowly, as though she had spoken to
herself : then, as she disentangled her lace, she snddenly said,
" I do not like this word, becanse 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 ttte-a-tUte, 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, Aleksei 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 KAR&NINA.
though to drive away an importunate thought. At his usua1
hour he prepared for rest, but Anna had not yet returned.
With his book under his arm, he went to her room ; hut
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 cansed 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. Karenin was not
jealous. A husband, in his eyes, offered his wife an insult
in showing jealousy, 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 in 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,
snddenly discovers that the arch is broken, and that the abyss
yawns beneath his feet.
The abyss in his 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-d-br<ic 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 KAR&NINA. 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 wa}" 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
weman 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, snddenly lost its cogency. 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
ef 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 to 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
alond. " 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 KARtNINA
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 lingers 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 equilibrinm, 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 bashlulk [Turkish hood]. Her face was radiant, but not
with joy : it was rather the terrible glow of a conflagration
on a clondy sky. When she saw her husband she raised
her head and smiled, as though she had awakened from a
dream.
" You arc not a-bed yet? what a miracle!" she said, tak
ing off her basMulk; and, without pansing, 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 KARtNINA. 157
she demanded, as she sat down. "Nit! 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 (>erfectly 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
Borrows, 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 your guard," said he, in a calm
voice, " against the interpretation which might be put by
society on your imprndence 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 langhing eyes, for him
so impenetrable, and saw, with a feeling of terror, all the
idleness and uselessness 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 becanse I am bored, and sometimes becanse I have a
good time. I was not bored this evening : has that disturbed
you?"
Aleksei 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 KARtNINA.
"Anna, is this you?" said Aleksei 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 away by, but there are certain social barriers
which one cannot cross with impunity. This evening, jndging
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 angiy : 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, becanse 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, wc 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 moi, how sleepy
 ANNA KAKf:NINA. 159
I am!" 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 eyes ; 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-jndged : 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, " Dal it is truly time to go
to bed."
AlekseM Aleksandrovitch 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. Snddenly 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 KARtNINA.

X.
From this evening a new life began for Aleksei 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 slanghter. 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 lay 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 becanse 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
peaoe would come to her, but they held aloof. Whenever she
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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
Aleksaudrovitch 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 langhed 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 years 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 [cowherd] ,
Nikolai, a clever muzhik with whom he liked to talk, "Do
you know, Nikolai, I am thinking of getting married?"
162 ANNA KARtNINA.
whereupon Nikolai had replied instantly without hesitation,
" This ought to have been long ago, Koustantin Dmitriteh."
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, beantiful, 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 immediately 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 stndy 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 KARtNINA. 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 snddenly, on the fol
lowing day, a south wind blew up, the clonds 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, mnddy waters. Towards evening the
Red Hill began to show through the fog, the clonds 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 bnds on the birch-trees, the goose
berry bushes, and the snowball-trees, swelled with sap, and
around their branches swarms of honey-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 marshes, 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 gossiped
gayly around the edge of the pond, where they were bleach
164 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 shuba [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 mnd.
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 }"0u ng branches clothe themselves
with bnds ; 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 mnd 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 beantiful ; the oldest had
already reached the size of ordinary cows : and Pava's
danghter, 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 reshdtki. He found, how
ever, that these reshdtki, or portable palisades, which had
been made in the antumn, were out of repair becanse 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 very 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 KAR&NINA. 1fif,
As to the ploughs and harrows, which should have been put
in order during the winter mouths, — and he had hired three
caq>enters, — nothing at all wits 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 tultiptchika, twisting a straw between his
fingers.
" 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."
" Da ! 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.
" jYk / 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. " Nn! 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."
" On how many desyatins? "
"Six" [I4£ 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 Dnritritch."
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
ventilating-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. Ix;vin 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 angry. " 1gnat," he
cried to his coachman, who, with upturned sleeves, was
washing the carriage near the pump, " saddle me a horse."
"Which one?"
"ift*/ 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 always 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 bis 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 wc have time, Konstantin Dmitritch."
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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 Fcdorovitch gloomily.
" Da vot! The horses are very feeble."
"Buy some more: da! but I know," he added with a
langh, " that you will do as little and as badly as you 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 happv 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, Konstantin Dmitritch,"
cried the coachman.
"JVtt/ By the woods."
And on his little, easy-going ambler, which whinneyed as
it came to the |x>ols, and which pulled on the bridle in the
joy of quitting the stable, Levin rode out of the mnddy
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 dranghts 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 bnds ready to
burst, filled his heart with pleasure. As he came out on the
enormous stretch of the fields, they swmed 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
impndent answer of a peasant. He said, " Ipat, shall we
168 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 he 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 exhansting 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 telyiga
loaded with seed, instead of being hanled 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 telyiga
mixed with hard and dry lumps of dirt.
Seeing the master coming, the laborer Vasili started towards
the telyiga, and Mishka began to sow. This was all wrong,
but Levin rarely got angry with his muzhiks. When he
reached Vaslli, he ordered him to take the horse out of the
telyiga, 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 Vaslli, 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 fanlt 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, begau
to sow the clover.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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! Barin [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."
" Dh ! 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 rve."
" But how long have you been sowing Turkish wheat? "
" It was you yourself who tanght us how to sow it. You
gave us two measures last year."
k'Nu! look here," said Levin, as he started to mount his
ambler, "look at Mishka : and if the seed comes up well,
you shall have fifty kopeks a desyatin " [40 eents 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 KAR&NlNA.
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 mmd 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 behmd
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 learu 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 mnd, 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 telyega, 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 prikashchik, 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 Arkadyevitch, 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 KARliNINA. 171
last. I shall now learn the mystery of your existence.
Truly, I envy you. What a house ! How convenient
every thing is! how bright and delightful!" said Stepan
Arkadyevitch, 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 Ivanovitch 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 solitnde a throng of ideas and
impressions which he could not share with any of his domes-
ties, and which he poured out into Oblonsky's ear* : everv
thing passed under review, — his spring joys, his plans and
farming projects, and all the criticisms on thc 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. Stepan Arkadyevitch, amiable, and
always ready to grasp a point, showed uunsnnl cordiality ;
and Levin even thought that he noticed a certain flaltering
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 li.•tle pasties, prepared by the cook in the hope of
dazzling the guest, were done. But Stepan 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
sance, and 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 stndied above all others, and be
taken as a guide in the' choice of economic expedients. I
am a pro/anus in these questions, but it seems to me that
172 ANNA KARtNINA.
this theory and its applications would have an influence on
the workmgman " —
" Yes ; but hold on : I am not speaking of political
economy, but of rural economy, considered as a science.
You must stndy 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 Mikhailovna entered with the dessert of
preserves.
" Nu! accept my compliments, Agafya Mikhailovna." said
Stepan Arkadyevitch, kissing the ends of his hairy lingers.
'•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 gun
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 you know him? "
" Oh ! certainly I know him. I have done business with
him, positively and fmally."
Stepan Arkadyevitch burst into a langh. " 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 (lolffiisha (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 kar£nina. 173
round his legs a striped plaid, and lit a cigar. " How can
vou 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 becanse I enjoy what I have, and don't
covet what Miare not," replied Levin, with Kitty in his
mind.
Stepan Arkadyevitch understood, and looked at him with
out speaking.
Levin was grateful becanse Oblonsky had not yet men
tioned the Shcherbatskys, and had understood, with his usual
tact, that it was a subject which he dreaded ; hut 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 eyes 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
inexhanstible theme : you can never cease stndying it, and it
always presents some new phase."
" So much the better not to stndy 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 fnend's soul, and understand the charm
which he took in stndies of this sort.
174 ANNA KARtNINA.

XV.
The place where Levin took Oblonsky was not far away,
by a shallow stream, flowing through an as|Mm-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 tower
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, sfft down can
tiously in frout 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 bnds.
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 aspcu-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 clonds. 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
londer and gayer than ever. An owl, in the distance, lifted
his voice. Laska pricked up her ears again, took two or
three cantious 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 Stepan Arkadye-
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 KAR£NLVA.
" Tehik! tchik!" Stepan Arkadyeviteh 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.
•• Don't you know what that is? That is the male rabbit.
Da! don't speak any 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 snddenly
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 failing blue of the sky, above the gently waving aspens,
a bird flying towards him : its cry, like the noise made by
tearing cloth, rang in his cars ; 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 Oblon-
sky's bush. The bird fluttered in the air, as though struck,
and turned to fly up agam ; 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 Arkadyeviteh, 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
Arkadyeviteh. "<S/t/ 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 Arkadyeviteh killed two
others, and Levm 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, Arcturus gleamed, with his sombre,
reddish fire. At intervals. Levin saw the Great Hear. No
more snipe appeared ; but Levin resolved to wait until Venus,
which was visible through the branches of his birch-tree, rose
176 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 wailing.
"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 snddenly, " you have not told me
whether your sister-in-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 ex|,ect Stepan Arkadyevitch's answer.
" She is not married, and she is not thinking of marriage.
She is very ill, and the doctors have sent her abroad. They
even fear for her life."
" What did you say ?" cried Levin. "Ill? What is the
matter? How did she " —
While 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 lwth, 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! D<i ! 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 Shchcrbatskys. It was
not without pleasure, though it was with some conscientious
scruples, that he heard how she who had cansed him so much
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 177
suffering, was suffering herself. But when 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 sndden 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.
" Yes : I 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 loug 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.
" Becanse your wood is worth at least five hundred rubles
a ilesyatin."
"Acht 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
caleulation. 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 mzhenx [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."
"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 KARliNINA.
you understand this document about the wood. It is bad.
Have you counted uic trees? "
" What? Count my trees? " asked Stepan Arkadyevitch,
with a langh, and still trying to get his friend out of his iII—
humor. "Count the sand on the seashore, count the rays
of the planets — tnough a lofty genins might "—
" Nu ! da ! I teii you the lofty genins 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 term. 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 ? "
" Becanse 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: yon are blue."
''Not at all," saia 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 telyega sat Rabinin's fat 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 mnddy. 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 Arkadyevitch, as though he wanted to grasp some
thing.
"Ah! Here }-ou are," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, shak
ing hands. " Very good."
" I should not have ventured to disobey your excellency's
orders, though the roads are very bad. Fact, I came all the
way on foot, but I am here on time. A greeting to you,
 ANNA KAlltNINA. 179
Konstantin Dmitritch," said he. turning to Levin, intending
to seize his hand also ; but Levin affeeted 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?" Aiid 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 find difficulties in transacting business, he was
not of the number.
In the library, Rabinin's eyes mechanically sought the
holy image ; but, when he canght 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 cansed.
" Well, did you bring the money?" asked Stepan 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 Rabinin, taking a chair, and
leaning back in it in the most uncomfortable attitnde. " 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 KAR£NINA.
" Excuse me : at the present day it is absolutely impos
sible to be a thief: every thing is done, fii 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 ends 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
sigu 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
canse I wish people to say, ' It's Rabinin. and not some one
else, who has bought Oblousky's forest.' And God knows
how I shall come out of it ! Please sign " —
An hour later the merchant went home in his telyiga, 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. "As! and your little pur
chase, Mikhail Ignatitch?"
" Nu! mt!"
XVII.
Stkpan Arkadvevitch went down-stairs, his pockets filled
with " promises to pay," due in three months, which the
merchant had given him. The sale was couclnded ; he had
 ANNA KARtNIyA. 181
money in his pocket ; sport had been good ; hence he was
|,erfectly 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 duratiou. 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.
" Nu! is it fmished? " 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
Rahinin?"
" Ah ! the Devil take him ! "
" Do you know, your behavior to him seemed astonishing
to me? You didn't even offer him your hand ! Why didn't
you offer him your hand? "
" Becanse I don't shake hands with my lackey, and my
lackey is worth a hundred of him."
" What a retrograd 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 Konstantin, — nothing more."
'• And Konstantin Levin in a very bad humor," said
Oblonsky, smiling.
" Da! I am in bad humor, and do you know why? Becanse
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
anv thing, they come saving, ' You might have sold this at a
higher price ; ' but no one thinks of offering this fine price
182 ANNA KARtNINA.
before the sale. No : I see you have a grndge 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 cansed by spendthrift ways, hy 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 lurruina [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."
" 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 whereby to live and get an education,
whereas yours perhaps will not."
"Nu! In my opinion, it is ridiculous to go into such
minute caleulations. We have our ways of doing things,
and they have theirs ; and let them get the good of it. Nu t
Moreover, it is done, and that's the last of it. — And here
is my favorite omelette coming 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 Mikhadovna, 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 Konstantin
Dmitritch, if he found only a crust of bread, would eat it
and go away."
Levin, ln 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 EARtNINA. 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 beantiful 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 Mikhailovna which had not attracted Ob-
lonskv'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 snddenly 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 Oblousky.
" 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 KAJttNINA.
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 tue 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 arc not fair to Vronsky, but this has nothing to do with
him. I will tell you frankly : if I were in your place, I would
start for Moscow, and " —
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
rnde 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 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.
Vronskv, 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 KAR&NINA. 185
in his life, in the first place becanse he 1oved it, and, still
more, becanse he was extremely popular. He was not only
admired, he was respected ; and it was a matter to be prond
of, that a man of his rank and intellectual capacity was seen
to place the mterests 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 imprndent 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 mnd which
should be thrown at ber 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 }-otmg man than to fall in love with some great
society lady ; and, moreover, she was not sorry to find that
this Madame Karenina, 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 Karenin'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 KARtNINA.
come to her. His older brother was even more dissatisfied,
not becanse 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 becanse 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.
Vrousky, besides his society relations and his military
duties, had 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-Sclo 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 attitnde 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 KARtNINA. 187
face shone with the joy cansed 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 biiliard-room the clicking of balls was
heard, and two voices talking and langhing. 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 eyes, 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 oflieer, pulling up a chair for his junior.
"What!" cried Vronsky, showing his teeth to express
his"disgust
Aren•t and
you aversion.
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.
" Sec what we'll have to drink."
"Rhine wine, if you please," replied the latter, trying to
twist his imaginary mustache, and looking timidly at Vronsky
out of the corner of his eye.
When he saw that Vronsky did not move, the young officer
got n p, 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.
"All! here he is," he cried, laving his heavy hand on
Vronsky 's shoulder. Vronsky turned round angrily, but in
an mstant a pleasant, friendly expression came into his face,
"Well, Alosha!" said the cavalry captain, in his big
188 ANNA KARfCNINA.
baritone. " Have some more dinner, anii drink a glass with
mc."
" 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 lust
evening? Numcrova 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 debanchee. It could not be
said of him that he entirely lacked principles. He had prin
ciples, but they 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, becanse, 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 becanse he knew that his fortune or his social
position counted for nothing in his friendship that the latter
showed him. He was hked on his own account. Moreover,
Yashvin was the only man to whom Vronsky would have
been willing to speak of his love ; becanse 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 alxmt 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.
"Nu! and what did you do last evening? Did you gain?"
asked Vronsky.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 189
"Eight thousand rubles, but three thousand possibly are
no good."
" Nit! Then you can lose on me," said Vronsky, langh
iug: his comrade had laid a large wager on him.
" But I shall not lose. Makhotin 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: 1 am through," said Vronsky, getting up.
Yashvin also arose, and stretched his long legs.
" I can't dme so early, but I will take something to drink.
I will follow you. Here, wine!" 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.
Vronskv 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 ! yon'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.
Petritsky 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 betterthan any thing," said Yashvin. "Tercsh-
ehenko ! 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 KARtNINA.
yon'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. " 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 versls from Peterhof ; but his friends
immediately knew that he was going in another direction.
Petiitsky winked, and raised his eyebrows as though he
would say, " 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.
"Nu! Where are they?"
" Where are they indeed? That's the question," declaimed
Petritsky, putting his forefinger altove 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 pote?"
" I swear I have forgotten: perhaps I dreamed about it.
Wait, wait ! don't get angry. If you had drunk four bottles,
as I did yesterday, 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
becanse he had not been to see her, and his brother said he
had something to speak to him about. " Wrhat concern is it
 ANyA KARtNINA. 101
ef theirs?" he murmured ; and, eruni| ,li n 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 mnd ? "
"Here are my saviours," cried Petritsky, as he saw the
new-comers. The tlenshchik was standing before him with
vodka and salted cucumbers on a platter. " Yashvin, here,
ordered me to drink, so as to be refreshed."
" N"u! 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 w;is blue. I
suug 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?"
" Yon'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
langhed 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 KARtNINA.

XXI.
A temporarv stable, made out of planks, had been bnilt
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.
" Nit ! 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 oft* 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 Gladi.itor : 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 KARtNINA. 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, andacity and coolness, — Vronsky knew
that he had in abundance ; and, what is more, he wiis 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
medinm 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 smallncss 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 fanlts :
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 KARtNINA.
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 beantiful 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 beanty, 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 arc you going, my lord? "
asked the Englishman, using the title of "lord," which he
never permitted.
Astonished at this andacity, 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 mnddy : now it will be a marsh."
 ANNA KARtNINA. 105
Now that he was alone again, he bethought him of his
mother's letter and hi.s 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? Becanse 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, inclnding 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. They 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 reality, 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 defme, nor could he tell for whom he felt it, — for Aleksei
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 prond 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 KAMtNINA.
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 mnd, the sun was aheady out
again, ami 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 Aleksci 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 borin 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 cantiously 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 snddenly remembered the most painful feature of
his relations with her, a feature that he was always forget
ting, — her sou, a lad with a most inquisitive face.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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 precantions 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 mstinctively 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 ),efore 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 ou
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 fanlt, and am I a nanghty 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 beantiful hands laden with rings,
which he knew so well, she had pulled the watering-pot to
198 ANNA KARtNINA.
wards her. Iler lovely figure, her graceful head, with its
dark, curling lucks, her neck, her hands, all struck Vronsky
every time that he saw her, and always cansed 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 baleony 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 — you."
" Bozhe mtii ! how cold your 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 [thou]
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. Whenever, 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 happy,
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 me of what you were thinking
 ANNA KARtNINA. 199
when I first came," said he snddenly, 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, in
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 " —
" Yu ber&menna!" she whispered.
The leaf which she held in her fingers trembled still more,
hut 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, Aleksei?" she asked
gently.
200 ANNA KAR£NINA.
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 completelv, 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 snddenly 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 anthoritative 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
 ANIfA KARtBINA. 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-
giou, 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 xon, but stopped, for she
could not jest about him. " 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 says. 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 becanse she recognized her own fanlt.
" 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 sec 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 snddenly, speak
202 ANNA. KARtNINA.
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 jndge 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 your honest nature
abhors lying : I am sorry for you ; and very often I tell my
self that you have sacrificed your life for me."
" 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."
"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.
" When? " he whispered, looking at her with ecstasy.
" To-day at the right time," she replied in a low voice, and
then she ran to meet her son. Serozha had been canght by
the rain in the park, and had taken refuge with his nurse in
a pavilion.
"Nut 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 KARtNINA. 203

XXIV.
When Vronsky looked at his watch on the Karenins' 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 mnd, he reached his carriage. He had
been so absorbed by his conversation with Anna that he had
forgotten entirely about his appointment with Briansky.
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, anii 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
dranght-horses, then the officers' two-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 ha»e
the go-by ; 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-dav 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 KARtNINA.
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 Mnkhotin'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."
Vronsky 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 kavalergard (cavalry guards
man), and a hussar just at his heels, whipping their horses
furiously, and approaching the goal. The crowd flowed in
fr»m all sides, and a group of officers and guardsmen were
hailing with shouts the trinmph of their fellow-officer aud
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 canght 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 KARtNINA. 205
his elder brother, Aleksandr. Like Aleksei, he was a man
of medinm stature, and rather stubby ; but he was hand
somer and rnddier. His nose was red, and his face was
flushed with wine, and he had an evil expression. He wore
a colonel's uniform with epanlets.
" 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 triffing matter.
" I got it," said he, " but I don't really understand why
you meddle with me."
" I meddle becanse I noticed your absence this morning,
and because you were not at Peterhof Monday."
"There are matters which cannot be jndged 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
angiy ; but when he grew angry, and when his chin trembled,
he became dangerous. Aleksandr Vronsky knew it, and
with a gay langh 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 hiw.
He had scarcely turned away, when another friendly greet
ing surprised Vronsky.
" Won't you recognize your friends ? How are you, mon
cher?" 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 trinmph. 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 KARtNINA.
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, beantiful, 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 Karenin : 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 Karenina 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. Vronsky'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 usnal
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 you won't be so nervous," said he.
Vronsky 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. Galtsuin, a friend of his,
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 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. Vronsky and all his comrades knew
Kuzoflefs 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, becanse 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, Makhotin, 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 your horse ; let her take it her
own way."
" Very good," replied Vronsky, 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 Vronsky, with
supple and powerful movement, put his foot on the notched
steel stirrup, and gracefully, firmlv, 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, snddenly heard on the mnddy 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 KARtNINA.
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 jndges' stand, and nine obstacles were placed
upon it: the rekd [river] : a great barrier, two arshlns [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. al>out three arshfvs (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 Vronsky,
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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 Vrousky 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 canght a glimpse of Kuzoflef almost under the
feet of his horse, wrestling with Diana on the other side of
tl*e rekd. Vrousky heard after the race, how Kuzotkf 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 eat, making a desperate effort
with back and legs as she leaped, landed beyond the fallen
racer.
•' O my beanty ! " thought Vronsky.
After the rekd he regained full control of his horse, and
even held her back a httle, 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
sdzhena [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
Vronsky'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 lond 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
changed ; and Vrousky, his face splashed with mnd, saw that
210 ANNA KAR&NINA.
the distance had not increased or diminished, as he canght 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 «n
the descent he managed to get the lead. As he drew by
Makhotin he saw his mnd-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 joy, 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 canght 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
beantiful 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 KARiNINA. 211
" Bravo, Vronsky ! " cried the throng. Hp recognized his
friends and his regiment, who were standing near the obsta
cle ; and he distinguished Yashvin's voice, though he did r.ot
see him
" O my beanty ! " 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 arsh'tus 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
hansted ; 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 sdzheim that lay between
him and the goal. Only becanse 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
snddenly 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 vam
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 fanlt 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 beantiful 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-quaiters, she fell
212 ANNA KARtNINA.
back on the ground all of a tremble. Vronsky, 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 Aleksei 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 aa
usual in the countrv, 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 Aleksei 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 clond, nothing more. He seemed to say, "You
have not been willing to have an understanding with me ; so
 ANNA KARtNINA. 213
mneh the worse for you. Now you must make the first ad
vances, and I, in my turn, will not listen to you." And he
bore himself towards his wife, in thought at least, very much
in the way of a man who, in his rage at not being able to put
out a fire, should say, " Burn, then ! So much the worse for
you." ^
This man. so keen and shrewd in matters or 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.
Aleksci Aleksandrovitch 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-
sei 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. Aleks<5i Alek
sandrovitch did not wish to think about his wife's conduct,
and therefore he did not think about her.
The KaiY-nins' summer datclta was at Peterhof ; and the
Conn toss Lidia Ivanovna. 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 Karenin one day, she made
some allusion to the impropriety of Anna's intimacy with
Betsy and Vronsky. Aleksci Aleksandrovitch stopped her
harshly, 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 Vronsky's camp.
He did not allow himself to think about this, and he did
214 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 iu 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 fr^e 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, becanse he was hor
rified at the terrible and uunatural 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 every 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.
Usmg 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 be, 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 " 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 KARtNINA. 215
tion of his affairs, which this year was not very brilliant; the
expenses had been heavy, and there was a defieit.
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
bv his abnormal condition, had begged the doctor to visit
him, and give him a thorough examination.
" Do it for my sake," the countless 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, Slindin, 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 Slindin.
" How glad I am that you have been to sec 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," conclnded the doctor, raising
his eyebrows with a significant expression. "Shall you
be at the races?" he added as he got into his carnage.
,' Yes, yes, certainly ; but it takes too much time," he said
216 ANNA KARtNINA.
in reply to something that Slindin 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 anii 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 eJiief 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 Slindin, whom he invited to join him
in his visit to the country and to the races.
Without knowing exactly why, he always 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 Annushka's aid, when
the noise of wheels on the gravel driveway was heard.
"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 Karenin, while she smiled upon Slindin as a household
friend.
"Yon'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 KARtNINA. 217
light, jesting tone. "I will walk with Mikhail Vasilyevitch.
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 Aleksdn Aleksandro-
vitch has come. — Nu! how is your health? Mikhail Vas-
ilyevitch, you have not been out to see us before : look ! how
beautifully I have arranged the baleony ! " 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 canght Mikhail Vusilyevitch looking at her with curiosity,
lie 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 ray 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 Aleksd'i 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-
sel 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 timid than
ever. He turned towards his mother, as though for pro
218 ANNA KARtNINA.
tection : he felt at ease only when with her. Meantime
Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 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 Aleksandrovitch, getting up, and
cracking the joints of his fingers. "I came also to bring
you some money, for nightingales don't live ou 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! you will come back after the races? "
" Oh. yes ! " replied Aleksei Aleksandrovitch. " 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 Aleksandrovitch. " It was very
kind of you to come."
Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 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 ou her.
hand the place where his lips had kissed it.

XXVIII.
When Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 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 hanghty conde
scension to the salutations, which were meant to draw his
attention ; exchanging careless greetings with his equals ;
 ANNA KARtNINA. 219
watching to catch the glances of the great ones of the earth,
to whom he paid his respects by removing his large, 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 whereby 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 pretendcl not to
see him.
"Aleksei Aleksandrovitch," cried the Princess Betsy,
" don't you 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 Aleksandrovitch
defended them.
Anna heard his slow, shrill voice, and lost none of the
words which her husband spoke, and which rang unpleasantly
iu 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
Vuonsky ; but ehe 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 be prefers above every thing is falsehood and conven
tionality."
220 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 by 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 vou 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 poitite de la sattce.
"There are two sides to the question," Aleksei Aleksan-
drovitch said, resuming, — " that of the spectator, and that of
the participant ; and I 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?"
Aleksei 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
rekd, 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
convnlsively clutched her fan : she held her breath. Karenin
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
Aleksandrovitch to himself. He did not wish to look at her :
but his gaze was irresistibly drawn to her face, whereon hf
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
sei Aleksandrovitch saw clearly by Anna's pale, trinmphant
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 shndder 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 stndied 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 KAlltNINA.
cold eyes 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 becanse 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 cansed by Vrousky's fall was so
universal, that Anna's cry of horror cansed 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 canght 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.
Aleksei 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 KARf:NINA. 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, hut
the horse had broken his back.
At this news, Anna quickly sat down, and hid her face be
hind her fan. Aleksei 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 full 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, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch did not allow himself
to think of his wife's present attitnde. 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 KARtNINA.
He was wounded, and instantly began to say 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 in French.
" Wherein has my conduct been improper? " she demanded
angrily, raising her head quickly, and looking him straight
in the eyes, no longer hiding her feelings under a mask of
gayety, 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 already 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 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch ceased speaking, she looked
at him with an ironical smile, and answered not a word, be
canse 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 KARtNINA. 225
" Possibly I am mistaken," said he : " in that case, I beg
you to forgive me."
''No, you are not mistaken," she replied, with measured
words, costing 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}ou, 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 snddenly 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 domestics, 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 Aleksei 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 mot! 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 I . . . nu! 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 KAR&NINA.
as a drop of water exposed to the cold always 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 Shcherbatsky, wife and danghter), 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
Fiirstin (princess) honored the waters with her presence.
The princess felt called upon to present her danghter, 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
Fiirstin said, —
" I hope that the roses will soon bloom again in this pretty
little face."
And immediately the Shcherbatsky 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 Griifin, and her son who had
been wounded in the late war, of a scientific man from Swe
den, and of a M. C'anut 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 dangh
ter, whom Kitty did not like becanse she likewise was ill on
account of a love-affair going wrong ; and a colonel whom she
always had seen in societ}", and known by his uniform and his
epanlets, and who now with his little eyes, and his bare neck
and flowery cravats, seemed to Kitty supremely ridiculous,
and the more unendurable becanse 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, becanse she knew that
she should not find any thing novel in them ; and so her prin
cipal amusement was in stndying 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 KARtNINA. 221
amused herself in stndying, 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 jndged, 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 Vdrenka." Kitty not only found it ex
tremely interesting to stndy the relations between this young
girl and Madame Stahl, and other unknown persons, but an
irresistible sympathy drew her towards Mademoiselle Varenka ;
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 beantiful 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 hers«lf 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 stndied her unknown friend, the more she
longed to become acquainted with her, feeling that she was
 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 day ;
and Kitty's eyes seemed always to say, "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 very, 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 outri 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 constructmg a touching romance,
of which they were the principal characters, when the princess
learned, by consulting the kuriistc (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 KARtNINA. 229

XXXI, & XXXII.

It was a stormy day : 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
ether. 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, can I speak with her? " asked Kitty, seeing her
unknown friend approaching the spring, and jndgmg 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-seeur," added the princess, raising her head with
dignity.
Kitty knew that her mother was vexed at the attitnde 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 Marya and a
German doctor, with whom he was speaking in a sharp and
angry tone.
As they turned to go back, snddenly 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
eame 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. Thig
230 ANNA KAR&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
protegis: 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 Varenka ; and though it was un
pleasant to the princess to seem to be making advances to
the hanghty and exclusive Madame Stahl, she satislied 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 danghter has taken a great fancy
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 Mentone with your annt,
Madame Stahl. I used to know her belle-saeur."
" No, Madame Stahl is not my annt. I call her maman,
but I am no relation to her. I was brought up by her,"
replied Varenka.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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.
"Nu! what is this Levin going to do? " she asked.
"He is going away."
At this moment, Kitty, radiant with pleasure becanse her
mother was talking with her friend, came in from the spring.
"Nu,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 long time, but without any response.
Vurenka's face, however, was lighted with a happy expression
tinged with melancholy ; and when she langhed, 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 Varenka followed them.
When the princess set out to find alwut Varenka's past
life, and her relatious 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 danghter of Court, a cook, born on the
same night, and in the same house at Petersburg. 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 KARtNINA.
others saw in her a superior being of real moral elevation,
and asserted that she lived only for the sake of her charities ;
in a word, that she was really what she seemed to be. No
one knew whether she was Cathohc, Protestant, or orthodox ;
one thing alone was certam, — 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
danghter, 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 beantifully.
Marya Evgenyevna and her danghter added their compli
ments and their thanks.
"See," said the colonel, looking out of the window,
'•what an andience 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 V&-
renka without affectation.
Kitty looked at her friend prondly : 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 prond I should be !
How happy I should be to see that crowd under the
 ANNA KARtNINA. 2S3
window ! But she seems perfectly unconscious of it. AH
that she seemed to want was to please mamttn. What is
there about her ? What is it that gives her this power of in
difference, this calmness and independence? How 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 aria.
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 Vuienka meekly, but
did not speak.
" I loved him, and he loved me also; but his mother was
unwilling, and he manned 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 beant\., 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 ! " ciied 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 y0u ! There is
never a young girl who does not sometimes feel the same way.
It is all such a trifling thing ! "
 ANNA KARtNINA. • 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
Varenka, 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, gettmg 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 remembcred 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
tome," 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 aim,
and disappeared in the semi-darkness of a summer night,
carrying with her the secret of her dignity and her enviable
calmness.
XXXIII.
Kittv 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 beantiful, supernal world, which would enable her to look
calmly on her past. This world, which was entirely apart
230 ANNA KARtNINA.
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
duty, but through love.
Kitty learned all this, but not by words. Madame Stahl
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. Oue 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 cansed her to doubt Madame Stahl's sin
cerity. Varenka, on the other band, alone in the world,
without family connections, without friends, hoping for
nanght, 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 KARtNINA. 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 diflicult 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 engouement, as she called
Madame Stahl, and particularly Varenka. 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 danghter 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 prond to fill, in this household, the
functions of a sister of charity. All this was very good ;
and the princess had no fanlt 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 Filrstin, 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 danghter 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 KAR£NINA.
made a secret of these new feelings, not becanse she lacked
affection or respect for her mother, but simply becanse 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, muman," 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
danghter's confusion, and trying to fathom the reason.
Varenka came the same day, 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 were 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 beantiful every thing was at that time !
Then she remembered Petrof's 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 KAR&mNA. 230
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 sndden 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 canse of Anna Pavlovna's coolness? "Yes,"
she said to herself, "there was something unnatural and quite
ditfereiit 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
Sheherbatsky rejoined them. He had been to Carlsbad, to
Baden, and to Kissingen, with Rirssian 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 banana. 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 KARtNINA.
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 Varenka, and the princess's description•
of the moral transformation through which his danghter 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, add
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 beantiful. 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 mornmg,
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
danghter 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 danghter, 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 kahGnina. 241
Kitty 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 Kilty's voice. With true
French exaggeration she overwhelmed the prince with com
pliments, and congratulated him on having such a charming
danghter, whose merits she praised to the skies, declaring
that she was a treasure, a pearl, a ministering angel.
" Nit! she must be angel number two," said the prince
gallantly, " for she assures mc 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.
"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? "
" Maruan 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
becanse 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 KARtNINA.
this, that she thanks God for all her tribulations, and, above
all, becanse her husband is dead. Nu ! and that is comical,
becanse 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 on his cane, and looked timidly at
the prince.
"This is my danghter," 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, " Aunetta ! 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. " \rery 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 KARtNINA. 243
whisper, and still more irritated becanse he could not express
himself as he wished.
" Ach! Bozhe mot ! I thought that we were not going,"
said his wife testily.
" How? — when?" — hut 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 danghter.
"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 cansed 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 anii 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 instantly 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 tiring myself to your remembrance, in order that
I may thank you for kindness to my danghter," 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 danghter."
" Your health is not always good? "
" Oh ! I am pretty well used to it now," replied Madame
Stahl ; and she presented the Swedish count.
" Yon 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 KARtNINA.
"For doing good, without doubt," said the prince, with
langhing eyes.
" It is not for us to jndge," replied Madame Stabl, 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 canght sight of the
Muscovite colonel ; and bowing to Madame Stahl, he went
away with his danghter, to join him.
" This is our aristocracy, prince ! " said the colonel, with
sarcastic intent, for he also was piqued becanse 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 years."
" She does not walk, becanse 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 an}"
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, riot becanse she could not have replied,
but becanse, 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 becanse
her plaid was not arranged to suit her. And it became im
 ANNA KARtNINA. 245
possible for her imagination to bring back to her the remem
brance of the former Maciame Stahl.

XXXV.
The prince's gayety and good-humor were contagions, 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, Marya Evgen-
yevna and her danghter, and Varenka, to lunch, and had
the table spread under the horse-chestnuts, in the garden.
The landlord 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 hack 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 langhed 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 KARtNINA.
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.
" Nu! 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, 'Erlawht. Euxellenz, Durch-
lauclU!' Nu! when they get to Durcldaucht [highness], I
cannot resist any longer, and my ten tinders vanish."
" It was merely becanse 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-pndding, I
know every thing."
" It is idle to resist, princess : their institutions are inter-*
esting."
'kDnl 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 couquered 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 KARtNINA. 247
take any amount of money for. Isn't that so, Katenka?
But why are you so solemn? "
" I am not, papa."
"Where are you going? Stay a little longer," said the
prince to Varenka.
" But I must go home," said Varenka, rising, and langh
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 you again? " asked Varenka.
" Maman wanted to go to the Petrofs'. Will you be
there? " asked Kitty, trying to read Varenka.
" I will be there," she replied. " They expect to go, and
I am going to help them pack."
" Nn ! Then I will go with you."
" No : why should you? "
"AVhy? why? why?" asked Kitty, holding Varenka by
her sunshade, and opening her eyes very wide. " Wait a
moment, and tell me why."
" ' Why ? ' Becanse your papa has come, and becanse 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 : why is it? "
" I didn't say 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
Mikhail Alekseyeviteh — that was Petrof's name — was will
ing to leave at any time, and now he does not want to go,"
replied Varenka, smiling.
"Nu! Nul" cried Kitty, looking at Varenka with a
gloomy expression.
" Nu! Anna Pavlovna imagines that he does not want to
go becanse yon are here. Of course this was unfortunate ;
but you have been the canse of a family quarrel, and you
know how irritable these invalids are."
248 ANNA KAR&nINA.
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 becanse this was all pretence, it was all
hvpocrisy, and becanse it did not come from the heart.
What business had I to meddle with the affairs of a stranger?
And so I have been the canse of a quarrel, and simply be
canse 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? "
"Becanse 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.
" Dal 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 KARtNINA. 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 Viirenka.
" 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 coming right back;" and she hurried
to the house.
" She is still there," she thought : " what shall I tell her?
Bozhe moi! what have I douc? 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.
"Varenka, forgive me," whispered Kitty, coming up to
her. " I did not know what I was saying. I " —
" Truly, I did not mean to canse 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 KAR&NINA.
" Nu ! 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 KARtNINA. 251

PART III.

I.
Sergei Ivanovttch 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. Koustantin Levin
was very glad to weleome him, the more becanse he did not
expect his brother Nikolai this summer, But in spite of his
love and respect for 8ergei Ivanovitch, Konstanlin 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, ou 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
Konstantin Levin the country was the more beantiful becanse
it offered an end for works of incontestable utility. For
Sergei Ivanovitch the country was vastly more delightful
becanse he could not, and need not, do any thing at all.
Their ways 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 KAR&N1NA.
the principal partner in a labor association, and, as such, be
saw no need of making a distinction between tbe qualities,
the fanlts, 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 lum,
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, becanse his opinions. formed
by his methodical stndies, 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 placi,
as he expressed it in French, but whose mind, though quick
and active, was full of non sequitws. 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, becanse his opponent was so easy
to vanquish.
Konstantin Levin, on his side, looked upon his brother as
a man of vast intelligence and learning, endowed with ex
traordinary 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,
whi h 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-
erl; ssness of a strong man pushing his own way through the
multitndes 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
gei 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. Kou
stantin was his habitual and favorite anditor.
 ANNA KARtNINA.
It was bis 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 : be 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 ISo-and-ao.
" Don't you ever get weary trotting about so in this
heat?" asked Sergei Ivanovilch.
" No. Excuse me for a minute : I must run over to the
office," said Levin ; and he hurried across the field.

II.
Earlv 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 stndent 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, prond 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 showing that
he could amuse himself with such a puerile amusement.
254 ANNA KARtNINA.
Konstantia 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 cr&ps can be jndged, 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
muzhik 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 beanties of nature, did not care to have others
speak of them. Words, he thought, spoiled the beanty of
the thing that they 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 in others
the crop was being gathered and garnered. The telyfyas 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 canght. 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 canght nothmg, he was undisturbed in spirits, and
the time that his brother was away conversing with Famitcb.
and the other workmen did not seem irksome to him. When
 ANNA KARtNINA. 255
his brother returned, anxious to get back to the house to give
some orders, Sergei 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 Eonstantin
in a melancholy tone.
III.
" Do you know, I was thinking about you," said Serg<M
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 thi•V arc 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 not 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 .t why can't yon 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 Imkashchik on horse
back.
" Why can't you do any thing? You make an experiment,
and it does not turn out to your 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 caleulus, 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 KARtNINA.
asked Sergei Ivanovitch, piqued becanse 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 you wish me to do," replied Levin, who
now saw that the black speck was the prikushchik, 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 you really think it idle that these peo
ple, whom you love, as you assert " —
"I never asserted any such thing," replied Koustantin
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, becanse, in your eyes, it is not worth
while."
And Sergei Ivanovitch offered him the following dilem
ma : —
" Either you 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?"
" Impossible it seems to me. In the four thousand square
verxts 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 — and schools."
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 257
"Why schools?"
"What do you say? Can you doubt the advantages of
education? If it is good for you, why not for others? "
Konstantin 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 by 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. Vol ! we ourselves
sent for the zemski doktor for Agafya Mikhailovna."
" Nul 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
muzhik 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 Sergei, vexed, becanse
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 KAMtNINA.
" 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 desi/atin, 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 yoke that hung upon
the necks of all of us decent |,eoplc. 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 jndgment 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 KARtNINA. 2f>9
And Konstantin, carried away by his subject, enacted the
scene between the president and the half-idiotic Alo>hka.
It seemed to him that this was m the line of the argument.
But Sergei Ivanovitch 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 stndents, 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 becanse it touches me ; but to deliberate on the
employment of forty thousand rubles of district money, or
to jndge the crack-braincd Aloshka, I won't do it, and I
cau'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 lk; 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 Ivanoviteh smiled. " He also," thought he,
" has his own special philosophy for the benefit of his incli
nations."
260 ANNA KARlSNINA.
"Nil! 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 carefully. 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 Koustantin
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 becanse he did not know how to express himself
clearly, or becanse 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 KAR&NINA. 2<n
lng 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 hegun, he decided that
he would mow. After his vexatious discussion with his
brother, he remembered his project.
" I must have some phvsical 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 Kalinovo, 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 prikai•hchik langhed, 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?"
" Certainly : it is very enjoyable."
"It is excellent as physical exercise, but can you stand
such work?" asked Sergii, 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 " —
" Vnt kak! but tell me, how do the muzhiks look at it?
Naturally they make sport becanse the barin is queer, don't
they?"
" No, I don't think so; hut 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 bring 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
202 ANNA KAR£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 kaftuns 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 tanght 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, burin ; '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 : —
" Ix,ok here, barin, if you put your hand to the work,
you must not quit it," said he; and Levin heard the sound
of stifled langhter among the workmen.
" I will try not to be left behind," he said as he took his
place behind Set•, 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 sued is too high.
See how he stoops," said one.
" Bears his hand on too much," said another.
 AlfNA KARtNINA. 203

" It won't do at nil : it's not well," said the starik. " Look,
he goes like this ; swings too wide. He'll get played out.
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 intennissiou, 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
hauler 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 ffowers.
Snddenly 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 clond. 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 bis 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
204 ANNA KARtNINA.
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
starik, whispered something to him. Then the two stndied
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 starik.
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, Konstantin was
back to the field again.

V.
Aftkr 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 KARtNINA. 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
U, 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
any liquor more refreshing than this pure, lnkewarm 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 canght
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 KARtNINA.
all sides, bringing to the hay-makers their bread and jugs of
kvas, 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 kafians, where the children were waiting with the din
ners. Some clustered around the telyigas; others sat in the
shade of a laburnum, where the mowu 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 tiurka 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 burin
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.
i Tiura, diminutive tiurkn, a bread-crumb soaked iu kvaa, or bear. The starik
used water instead of krux.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 207
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 caleulated 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.
" 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.
" Iftt! 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. Lookout!"
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-
tliug cans, the}" came to the little wooded ravine of Mashkin
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 KARtNINA.
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 buck 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 starik 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 would be hard to go. But he perse
vered all the same, and succeeded. He felt as though some
interior force sustained him.

VI.
Thev had finished mowing the Mashkin Verkh : the last
rows were done, and the men had taken their kaftans, and
were gayly 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 KARtNINA. 269
hear their hearty, happy voices, as they langhed 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?"
be asked, completely forgetting the unpleasant conversation
of the evening before.
"Bdtiushki!" exclaimed Sergei Ivanovitch, looking at
first not over-pleasantly at his brother. "How you look!
Dal Shut the door, shut the door! " he cried. " Yon'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.
Kuztna has your dinner all ready for you."
" No : I am not hungry. I ate yonder. But I'm going to
have a bath."
"^T« / go ahead, and I'll join you," said Sergei Ivanovitch,
lifting his head, and gazmg 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. " Nit ! but where were you 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 alond. It
was dated from Petersburg : —
"I have just heard from Dolly; she is at Yergushovo;
270 ANNA KARtNINA.
every thing is going wrong with her. Please go and see her,
and give her your advice, — you who know everything. She
will be so glad to see yon ! 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. "JVm/ 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 they 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."
"Nu,! you are satisfied with your day! So am I with
mine. In the first place, I solved two chess problems,
and one was a beanty. I'll show it to you. And then —
I thought of our last evening's discussion."
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 271
"What? Onr 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 partly 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, druzhuk?" [little friend], asked Sergei
Ivanovitch, taking him by the shoulder.
" Da! of course. But. then, I don't set much store on
my own opinions," replied Levin, smiling like a child, con
scious of nanghtiness. 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 bruskh/, 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."
" Nu! 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 ANNA KARtNINA.
istry, and at the same time, being well supplied with money,
was ready to enjoy himself at the races, and his friends'
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 w.rsts 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 matenal 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 Darya Aleksandrovna 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 KAlltNlNA. 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.
Viewed 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 fmd 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, becanse one of the
horses was balky, and wouldn't be harnessed. They had to
give up bathing, becanse 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
canse 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 lanndry, 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 sergeaut
[yakhmistr], who, on account of his fine presence, had been
promoted by Stepan Arkadyevitch from his place as Swiss,
made no account of Darya Aleksandrovna's tribulations, but
simply said in his respectful way, "Can't find anybody, the
peasantry are so beastly ! " and would not stir.
274 ANNA KAR&NINA.
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 prikashchik'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
Matriona 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,
" came out all right." The roof was patched up; a cook
was found in a friend of the starosta's wile ; 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 lanndry
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.
"jVm, 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 illuesses and fanlts, 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 KARiNINA. 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 beantiful children,
all six charming in their own ways ; and she rejoiced in
them, and was prond of them.

VIII.
Towards the end of May, 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 becanse 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 country.
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 metemptychases, 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 becanse 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. Ouly 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 lit
her. Fortunately, it occurred to Matriona Filimonovna to
set gores into the waist, and to put on a collar. The harm
276 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 Kilimonovna's watchful
care, in place of the restive horse, the prikashcliik's stallion
had been harnessed to the drozhky. 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, becanse it made her realize how her
beanty 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 beanty, 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
beantiful, — not beantiful 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 they 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 naive 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 KARtNINA. 277
lowed any punishment on such a day if she had been there ;
but she was obliged to uphold the governess, and eonfirm her
in depriving Grisha of the tart. This was a clond 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."
Tania, 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 they were doing right : they ran to her with their
mouths still full of pic, began to kiss her hands with their
langhing lips, and their shining faces were stained with teal"s
and jam.
" Mdtiuahki ! my new white dress! Tania! Grisha!"
exclaimed the mother, endeavoring to save her dress, but
at the sanic 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
liniika [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 KAR&NINA.
there was a universal cry of enthusiasm, " Lili has found a
shlmpik ! ' '
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 langhter
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
dierubinttchiks, — 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. Matrioua 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 bubui. At first they langhed 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."
" Look you," said still another, pointing to the youngest.
" You don't take him in? "
" No," said Darya Aleksandrovna prondly. " He is only
three months old."
" You don't say ! " ["7s/i tui! "]
" And have you children? "
" Had four ; two alive, boy and girl. I weaned the last
before Lent.
"How old is he?"
' ' Da ! Second year. "
 ANNA KARtNINA. 279
" And do you nurse him so long? "
" It's our way : three springs."
And then the baba 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, becanse she had so
many and such lovely children. The babui made Darya
Aleksandrovna langh, and piqued Miss Hull becanse she was
evidently the canse of their unaccountable langhter. One of
the young 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
langhing. " Ish tui! she put on one, and then she put on
another, and she hasn't got them all on yet! " and they all
broke into lond ha-has.
IX.
Darta Aleksandrovna, with a platok 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 always glad to see him ; but now she was
particularly delighted, becanse he saw her in all her glory,
and no one could appreciate her trinmph better than Levin.
When he canght 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."
" Achl how glad I am ! " said she, extending her hand.
" Glad ! But you 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 snddenly, even while speaking, he became
confused, and walked in silence by the lineika, pulling off,
and biting, linden-twigs as he went. It had occurred to him
280 ANNA KARtNINA.
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, uo ! " said Dolly. "At first it was rather hard,
but now every thing is running beantifully. 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 fanlts 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 they 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, langhing gayly. "I won't hurt her, or
let her fall."
And when she saw his strong, agile, and at the same time
prndent and careful, movements, Dolly felt re-assured, and
followed his course with pleasure.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 281
There in the country, with the children and with Darya
Aleksandrovna, with whom he felt thoroughly in sympathy,
Levin entered into that hoylike, happy frame of mind which
was not unusual with him, and which Darya Aleksandrovna
especially admired in him. He played with the children, and
tanght 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 baleony, 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 paying, 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
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 KARlSNINA.
but dubious ; and the principal point was, that she wanted
to talk about Kitty.
X.
" Kittv writes me that she is longing for solitnde 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 Jung-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 cansed vanished at the memory of this injury.
" How could you suppose that I knew? "
" Becanse 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 — "lam sorry for Kitty, very sorry. You suffer
only in your pride " —
 ANNA KARENINA. 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.
" Proshchaite [good-by], Darya Aleksandrovna, till we meet
again."
"No! wait!" she cried, holding him by the sleeve:
" wait ! sit down ! "
" I beg of you, I beg of yon, 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 docs not speak " —
" No ; her heart speaks, but think for a moment : you 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, yon offer 3 ourselves."
" 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
ouly answer yes or no."
"Z)a/ 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.
"Darya 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."
284 ANNA KARtNINA.
"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."
" 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 Katerina 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. I 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 snddenly to his feet.
" If you only realized the pain that you canse 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. " Nu ! let it be as though w«
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 KARtNINA. 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 Aleksnndrovna'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 arc 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 ahout 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, (iri.-iha
and Tania had quarrelled about a ball. Darya Aleksan
drovna, hearing their cries, ran to them, and found them in a
frightful state. Tania was pulling her brother's hair ; and
he, with angry face, was pounding his sister with all his
might. When Darya Aleksandrovna saw it, something
seemed to snap in her heart. A black clond, as it were,
came down on her life. She saw that these children of hers,
oi whom she was so prond, were not only ill trained, but
were even bad, and inclined to the most evil and tempestuous
passions.
This thought troubled her so that she 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.
280 ANNA KARtiNINA.

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 the spring.
In former years the muzhiks rented these hayfields at the
rate of twenty rubles a desyatin. But when Levin under
took the management of this estate, arid 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 desyatin.
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
mers the peasantry still resisted, but the harvesting went on
in good older, and the present year they proposed to mow the
prairies on thirds ; and now the starosta 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. I,y the unsatisfactory answer to his question why
the hay had been mowed only on the largest prairie, by the
starosta 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 conclnded
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 KARtilNINA. 287
ricks, and found that they could not contain fifty loads each,
as the muzhiks said. So 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 l>ook-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 beantiful 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 telt/fyaa in
a long hne. 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'll be all in," said the
starik, sitting down near Levin. " 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 telyiga, and shaking his hempen reins, was
driving by.
" The last, bdtinshkn ," shouted back the young fellow,
hanling 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 telyiga, and whipped up his steed again.
288 ANNA KARtNINA.
" Who is that ? your son?" asked Levin.
" My youngest," said the slarik with an expression of
pride.
'• What a fine fellow! "
" Not bad."
" Married yet?"
" Yes, three years come next Filipovok " [St. Philip's
Day. Nov. I4].
"So? And are there children? "
" How? children? No, more's the pity. Nu! the hay,
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 canght up the load which she ex
tended, and trampled it down into the wagon. Then, raking
up what was left, the !,aba shook off the hay that had got
into her neck, and. tying a red handkerchief around her broad
white brow, she crept under the telyegtt 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 langhter.
On the expressive faces of both could be seen 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 teh/egus
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 babui, with rakes on their shoulders,
and dressed in bright-colored petticoats, began to sing in
lond, happy voices. One wild, untrained voice would intone
the folk-song (pytsna), and then fifty other young, fresh,
 ANNA KARtNINA. 289
and powerful voices would take it up, and repeat it to the
end.
The babni, singing their pyfana, passed by Levin ; and it
seemed to him, as he sat comfortably on his hay-rick, that
they were like a clond, big with tumultuous joy, ready to
overwhelm him and cany 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 defrand
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 Vnnka 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
peasantry.
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 KARilNINA.
At first there were gay gossip and langhter while everybody
was eating ; then followed songs anii 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 whinnying 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.
" Nit! 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
tnde 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 ou in his self-com-
munings, " 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 clonds, 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 KARtNINA. 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
trinmph of light over the darkness.
Levin shivered with the chill. He walked fast, looking
at the ground. " Who is that coming?" he asked himself,
healing 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 Levip
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
canght a glimpse of her frank e}-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 eyes. 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 jndged 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
i In the original it xaya that nhe recognized Ix"vin, and the joy ahone upon her
face. But it la evldeut, from the conversation in chap. xl. book ill., that It could not
have been so.
202 ANNA KAMZnINA.
himself, an alien and a stranger to every thing, walking soli
tary on the deserted highway.
He looked at the sky, hoping to find there still the sea-shell
clond which he had admired, and which personified for him
the movement of his thoughts and feelings during the niglit.
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 cirrhons clonds 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 cansed him to lose his self-control, and destroyed for
him his reasoning-faculties. His sulwrdinates 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 cansed 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 cansed 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 KARtNINA. 203
strange appearance of deathlike rigidity in his face which
so impressed Anna.
When they reached home, he helped her from the carriage ;
and. having made a great effort, he left her with ordinary
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, cansed a
keen pain in his heart ; and this pain was made still keener
by the strange sensation of physical pity for her, cansed
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
body, 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 snddenly
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.
" 1 made a mistake when I joined my life to hers ; but my
mistake was not my fanlt, and I ought not to be unhappy.
The guilty 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 KAR&NINA.
cleared himself satisfactorily from the mnd 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 becanse 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 HeIene "
of Menelans, 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, Poltavsky, Prince Karibanof, Count Paskndin,
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 any 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 shndder of having a pistol levelled
at him, and never in his life had he made any practice with
fire-arms. This instinctive horror cansed 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 KARtNINA. 2or»
"The state of our society is still so savage," he said, —
" though it is not so in England, — that very many " —
And in these many, to whom such a solution was satisfac
tory, there 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 Aleksandroviteh drew
a vivid picture of the night that he would spend after the
challenge ; and he imagined the pistol drawn upon him, and
he shnddered, 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 cansing 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 likely 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 light a duel? would never
permit the life of a government oftieial, 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 Aleksandroviteh,
now appeared to him of -extraordinary importance.
Having decided against the duel, Aleksei Aleksandroviteh
began to discuss the question of divorce — a second expe
dient which had been employed by several of the men whom
he had in mind. Examples of divorces in high life were
well known to him, but he could not name a single ease
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 KAR&NINA.
marriage, had entered into relations, imagined to be sanc
tioned, with a new husband. As to legal divoree, 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 canse him to fall
lower tn 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
hits unwillingness for her to unite her lot absolutely with
Vronsky, so that her fanlt would turn out to her advantage.
This thought was so painful to Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, that
he almost groaned alond with mental pain ; and he got up
from his seat, changed liis 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 Karibanof, Paskndin and that gentle Dratnm,
but this measure had almost the same disadvantages as the
other: it was practically to throw his wife into Vronsky's
arms. "No: it is impossible — impossible," he muttered,
again trving to wrap himself up. " I cannot be unhappy,
but neither ought she or he to he 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, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch came to
the conclusion that there was only one way to escape from his
trouble, and that was to keep his wile under his protection,
shielding his misfortune from the eyes of the world, employ
ing all possible means to break off the illicit relationship,
 ANNA KARtNINA. 207
and — what he did not avow to himself, though it was the
principal point — punishing his wife's fanlt.
" 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 strennous
condition that she fulfil my w".ll, and absolutely break off all
relations with her paramour."
Having made this resolution, Aleksei 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 I 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, (lur
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 why his
relations with his wife should not remain as they had alwavs
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, becanse 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 KARtNINA.

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.
Aleksei 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-cham.bre, 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 voiis
[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, I 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 returnmg
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. KARtiNIN.
" P.S. I enclose in this letter money, which you may need at this
particular time."
 ANNA KARtNINA. 209
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.
" 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,
im|,enetrable 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, beantiful hands and the slender fingers cov
ered with rings. After gazing at this portrait for a moment,
Aleksei Aleksandrovitch shnddered, 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 tliat the conception which had taken root in his mind
in regard to the canses 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 KARtNINA.
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
employte, 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, unnecessary 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 money, 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 imprndent : 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 danghters played on stringed instruments.
Aleksei Aleksandrovitch knew this family, and had been
nuptial godfather1 when one of the elder danghters 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, becanse in every ministry there
are such cases of impropriety which no one ever thinks of
bothering with. But since they had thrown down the gannt
let, he had boldly accepted the challenge by demanding the
appointment of a special Commission for examining and
i ft,xa*honnui oteis, — a man who takes the father's place iu the Ruaaian wedding
eeremuny.
 ANNA KA R/SNINA. 801
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 fanlt 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 stndy 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 stndy into the canses of this
sad state of things, with the aim of settling it from the (o)
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 I7,0I5 and I8,308 of the 5th of
December, l868, and the 7th of June, l804.
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 angrily 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, becanse 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, snddenly presented itself in its true color, and more
inextricable than ever. She began to fear the dishonor
about which she had not thought before. When she con
sidered what her husband might do to her, the most terrible
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 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 everybody 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 son 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, saying that she had come be
canse 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 stndy of manners. I 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 attitnde, 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 mot! Bozhe mail !" 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 Aleksei Aleksan-
drovitch himself. She knew beforehand that the refuge
offered by religion was possible only by the absolute renun-
i Upravlyaiuahchy, — literally director, steward.
304 ANNA KARtNINA.
ciation 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, snddenly 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 Mamzel and Serozha are
waiting," said Annushka, coming in again, and finding her
mistress still undressed.
" Serozha? what is Serozha doing," snddenly asked Anna,
remembering, for the first time this morning, the existence of
her son.
" He is nanghty, I think," said Annushka.
" How nanghty? "
" He took one of the peaches from the corner cupboard,
and ate it all by himself, as it seems."
The thought of her son snddenly called Anna from the
impassive state in which she had been sunk. The sincere,
though somewhat exaggerated, rule 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 relatiou 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 KARtNINA. 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. Rending 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 nanghtiness 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 uloue with
my son."
"Yea, he is very nanghty," 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 jndge 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 nanghty. 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 Marictte," 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 KARtNINA.
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. And again, as before .breakfast, she felt that
mysterious sense in her inmost soul that she was in a dual
state.
"I 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." 1 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, becanse 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.
"I cannot speak of my fault and my repentance, he-
canse " — Again she stopped, unable to find the right words.
"No," she said, "I can s&y nothing;" and, tearing up this
letter, she began another, in which she exclnded 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 KARtNINA. 807
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 Aleksei 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 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch.
" The courier was ordered to wait an answer," 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
gladly 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
alwa}-s 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 KARftNINA.
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, —
kuows that I cannot repent becanse I breathe, becanse 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 may, any thing is better than lies.
"But how? Bozhe mui! Bozhemoi! 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 aat down at the table ; but, instead of writing, she
 ANNA KARtNINA. 309
folded her arms on the table, and bowed her head upon
them, and began to weep like a child, with heaving breast
and convnlsive sobs. She wept becanse 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 tshe
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
prejndices. 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 jom 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 Aleksei " (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 KARtNINA.
" Not going at all?"
" No, but don't unpack before to-morrow ; and hare 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 kammer-
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 jndged
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 hammer-junker, say, "From the count to the princess."
It occurred to her to ask him where his barin was. It oc-
cuiTed 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.
" 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, becanse 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 KARtNINA. 811
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 Tushkieviteh,
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 I should like to have a cup of tea before the others
come. And you," she said, addressing Tushkieviteh, " had
better go with Maska and try the kroket-gro-nnd, which has
just been clipped. We will have time to talk a little while
taking our tea. We'll have a cosey chat, won't we?" she
added in English, addressing Anna with a smile, and taking
her hand.
" All the more willingly, becanse 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
Frvilina 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 yon, I
should be tempted to be vexed with y0u : 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 KARtNINA.
with a snap of the eyes such as was habitual with her ; and,
taking the letter, she began to read it.
" Aleksei disappoints us (Alexin 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 I" —
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 KARtyiNA. 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 jndgments 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 toue that
clearly showed that she did not 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
lookerl 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
langhter.
" But yon are trespassing on the Princess Mingkaia's prov
ince : it is the question of an en fant terrible," said Betsy, try
ing in vain to restrain her gayety, but again breaking out into
that contagious langhter which is the peculiarity of people
who rarely langh. "But you must ask them," she at length
managed to say, with the tears running down her cheeks.
" Nu! you langh," 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 Rolandaki's frazdnik?" [festival],
said Anna, wishing to change the conversation.
314 ANNA KAR&NINA.
" 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 naive, 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 naive 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 langhter, and immediately after the expected
guests came in, — JSafo Stoltz, and a young man called Vaska
for short, whose face shone with exuberant health. It was
evident that trultles, 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 enormously 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 beanty, but by the extravagance
of her toilet and the bolduess of her manners. On her
head was a veritable scaffolding of false and natural hair of
 ANNA KARtNINA. 315
a lovely golden hne, and of a height corresponding feo 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 hack her
train. "I was coming with Vaska — Ach,da! You are
not acquainted." And she introduced the young man by
his family name, langhing 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 langhed still more.
"Not now, though."
" All right: I'll take it by and by."
"Very well, very well! Ark, da!" she snddenly cried
out to the khozydika (the hostess). "I — 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 beanty.
Anna noticed it, and approved. Liza was as quiet and un
pretentious as Safo was lond 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 KARtNINA.
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
snddenly lighted up with a happy smile.
"Ach ! How glad I am to sec you ! " she said, as she went
up to her. " Yesterday afternoon at the races I 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 now began to get ready 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 very fond of it," said Anna.
" Vot! how is it that you don't get ennuyee? To look at
you is a joy. You 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
ennuyie. 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 Ktrcmof staid at the tea-table.
"How bored?" asked Betsy. "Safo says she had a
delightful evening with you yesterday."
"Ac.h! 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 bo-ed?" she asked again of Anna. "It is
enough to look at you ! You are evidently a woman who
can be happy or mhappy, but never ennuyie. Now explain
what you do. "
"I don't do any thing," said Anna, confused by these per
sistent questions.
" That is the b^st way," said Stremof, joining the conver
sation.
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 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
canse 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 way of small talk ; but he
understood how to say light thmgs 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 witty
man's flattering words, the childlike and naive sympathy
shown her by Liza Merkalova, and all this agreeable social
atmosphere, so opposed to what she expected elsewhere,
cansed 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 KAIltNINA.
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.
Vronskv, in spite of his worldly life and his apparent friv
olity, 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 othei's 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, becanse 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,
 ANNA KAIOiNINA. 319
those that required ready money, so that, in ease of requisi
tion, there might not be a moment of delay. These amounted
to four thousand rubles, — lifteen hundred for his horse,
and twenty-five hundred as a guaranty for his young com
rade, Venevsky, who had, in Vronsky's company, lost this
amount in playing with a ahuler [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
lids disgraceful affair, in which his only share was to be
guaranty 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 thousand
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 Tehir-
fcovaia, the danghter 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
in the service• could ofnotonerefuse
of thethis
most expensive
gift. regiments
His mother, who
possessed an independent fortune, gave her younger son 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-
< The Dekabristx were the rcvolutioulste of December, i825, the time of the accee-
doD of the Emperor NichoUui.
320 ANNA KARtNINA.
ful amour, ceased to remit to him his allowance. So that
Vronsky, living on a forty-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-
renina, 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 always 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 bis stnd. 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.
Vronskv's life was especially happy, becanse 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 Vronsky never had occa
sion to go outside of this circle, he had never been obliged
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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 canse 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 KARtNINA.
told him her situation, his heart bade him elope with her.
He said this, but now on 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 canse 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 Karenina, 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. Serpnkhovskoi — 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 gymnasinm, 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 KARtNINA. 323
general. He was now in Petersburg, and people spoke of
him as a new rising star of the first magnitnde.
Just Vronsky's age, and Lis intimate friend, he was a
general, and was expecting an appointment which would give
him great influence in the affairs of the country ; while Vron-
sky, though he was independent and brilliant, and loved by
a lovely 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
Serpnkhovskoi ; but his promotion proves that a man like ma
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
mg : 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 Serpnkhovskoi ?"
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 Petriteky. " 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.
"Da / then that music is at his house?" he remarked, hear
ing the well-known sounds of waltzes and polkas, played by
324 ANNA KAReNINA.
a military band at some distance. " What is the celebra
tion?"
" Serpnkhovskoi 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 Serpnkhovskoi, nor vexatiou becanse he, returning to
the regiment, had not come first to see him.
" Ah ! I am very glad."
Colonel Dcmin lived in a vast seignorial mansion. When
Vronsky arrived, he found all the company assembled on the
lower front baleony. 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 baleony, screaming
londer 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 baleony 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 Serpnkhovskoi, smiling, with a
glass in his hand.
"You are always young, Bondarenko," said he to the
vdkhmistr. a rnddy-cheeked soldier lad, who stood directly in
front of him, in the front row.
Vronsky had not seen Serpnkhovskoi for three years. 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 Serpnkhovskoi.
As he descended the steps he canght 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 KARtNINA. 32.r>

that first he must drink with the vdkhmistr, who, standing

perfectly straight, had puckered his lips for the kiss.
".Nu! here he is ! " cried the colonel ; " but Yashvin was
telling me that you were in one of your bad humors."
Serpnkhovskoi, 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 Vronsky to Serpnkhovskoi, stndying 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.
'•Vronsky, 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
gnyety calmed down for a moment. Serpnkhovskoi 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 fancet, and rubbing them with his hands. When
he had finished his ablutions, he sat down by Serpnkhovskoi
on a divantchik [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
Serpnkhovskoi. " 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 becanse he foresaw on what subject the conversa
tion would turn, and it was not displeasing to him.
"The only ones? " repeated Serpnkhovskoi, also smiling.
326 ANNA KAR&NINA.
" Yes ; and I, too, know all about you, but not through
your wife only," said Vronsky, cutting short, by the snd
denly stern expression of his face, the allusion; "and I am
very glad at your success, but not the least surprised. I
expected even more."
Serpnkhovskoi smiled again. This flattering opinion of
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 Serpnkhovskoi. " 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
me 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 Serpnkhovskoi, with the radiant
expression of success ; " and therefore, the nearer I am to
power, the more 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, langhing. " 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 your action itself was well, but you
did not do it in the right way."
" What is done, is done ; and yon 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 be 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 KARtNINA. 327
" What do yon mean? — Bertenef's party against the Rus
sian communists? "
"No," said Serpnkhovskoi, with a grimace of vexation
that he should be accused of any such nonsense. "Tout ca est
line blague! [All that is fudge]. This always has been, and
always will be. There aren't any 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 why aren't they among the independents? "
" Simply becanse 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, they 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 plm fin que
pa [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 ns. And men of this stamp are more than ever neces
sary."
Vronsky listened attentively, not only becanse of the
meaning of his words, but becanse of their connection with
Serpnkhovskoi'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
Serpnkhovskoi might be, with his unfailing aptitnde 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 Serpnkovskoi,
smiling.
"No: it is true, true — now — to speak sincerely," per
sisted Vronsky.
"Yes; true now, — that is another affair; this now will
not last forever."
328 ANNA KARtNINA.
" Perhaps."
" You say perhaps; and I tell you certainly not," contin
ued Serpnkhovskoi, 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 [perseverirovat]. All I ask
of you 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."
Serpnkhovskoi 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 Vronsky 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
pnkhovskoi 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 furdeau [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 snddenly 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 KAR£nINA. 329
" The higher the woman is in the social scale, the greater
the difficulty. It is just the same as —-not to cany 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.
AVe make something immense out of love, but they are all
terre-d,-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 Tverskaia."
Vronsky hastily read the note, and grew red in the face.
" I have a headache. I am going home," said he to
Serpukhovskoi.
" Nit, pros/ichai! 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 izeoshchik 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 Serpnkhofskoi. 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 full
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 KAR&NINA.
urable was the mouse-like sensation of motion on his breast
when he breathed.
This same bright, cool, Angust 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 hurrying 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 beantiful 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' x hand arranged something about the lan
tern, then he applied the knout to his horses, and the carriage
whirled rapidly over the even pavement.
"I need nothing, nothing, but this pleasure," he thought,
as his cyes 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 KARtNINA. 331
" You are not angry becanse 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.
"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 snddenly halted.
" I did not tell you last evening," she began, breathing
fast and painfully, " that, coming home with Aleksei Alek-
sandrovitch, I confessed to him every 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, ho snddenly drew himself up, and
his face assumed a hanghty and stern expression.
" Da! cUt! 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 sndden 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 sou,
and gone with him. But their meeting had been the opposite
332 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 oue 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.
"Acht 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 yon. 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 day, and the duel
itself, at the moment when, with the same cool and hanghty
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 Serpnkhov-
skoi'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 KARiNINA. 333
added, begging her with his look to give him time to finish
what he began to say. " I am glad, becanse 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 then). To
morrow ' ' —
She did not allow him to finish.
"And my son!" 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, every 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 prond of my position, becanse
— proud that — prond" — She did not say why she was
prond. 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 canse 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 son, and leave him? "
" Yes ; but all this depends on him now. Now I must go
334 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 Vronsky, and went home.

XXIII.
The Commission of the 2d of June, as a general thing,
held its sittings on Monday. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 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 neede'd, 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 his
expression of weariness, as he sat with head on one side,
would have believed it possible, that, m a few moments, from
his lips would proceed a speech which would raise a real
tempest, canse the members of the Commission to outdo
each other in screaming, and oblige the president to call them
to order. When 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,
 ANNA KARtNINA. 335
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. Strernof, 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 trinmphed, 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. AleksiH 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
drovitch absolutely forgot that the day was Tuesday, the
day set for Anna Arkadvevna'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 lond, 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, up
336 ANNA KABtNINA.
parently 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 canght 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 come," he stammered, sit
ting down near her, and 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: —
" Aleksei 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 yon 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 thcu, and wrote you " (he spoke in a
sharp, shrill voice), " I now repeal, 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 KAKfJNINA. 337
that our relations must remain as they always have been,
and that only 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 sec any light in
regard to their relations.
" I cannot be your wife, when I " — she began.
He langhed with a cold and wicked langh.
" 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 your husband up and down of your infidelity, and not
finding any thing blameworthy in it, as it seems, how you can
findany thing blameworthy either in the fulfilment of a wife's
duties to her husband."
" Aleks^'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 you 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 KARtNINA.
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 mwsiiiks, the
envy which seized him when he saw them and their lives,
the desire to lead such a life himself, which on that night
had 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 stndy 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 cany out his aspirations for the
accomplishment of better models, and on the other side, the
natural order of things. In this 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 : beantiful tools were destroyed, beantiful
cattle and lands ruincd. 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, becanse 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 KARtNINA. 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 desyathis, where there
promised to be bare spaces mixed with grass, and not fit
for seed ; and they would cut his best desyiUms, reserved for
seed, and allege as excuse that it was the prikashchik's
orders ; and they vexed him the more becanse the fodder
was perfectly easy to distinguish, but he knew that they
took this becanse on these desyatins it was easier work.
He sent the winnowing-machine out, and they broke it on
the first trial, becanse 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
babui will soon winnow it." They had to give up using
the new-fangled ploughs, becanse 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, becanse not one muzhik was
willing to be night-watchman : and notwithstanding the
express commands to the contrary, the laborers took turns
on the night-guard ; and Vanka, who had been working all
day, fell asleep, and acknowledging his mistake, said, " Vulya
vasha ' ' [Do with us as you please] . Three of the best
heifers were lost becanse they were let into the clover-patch
without water, and no oue 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 becanse there was enmity against
Levin or his estate. On the contrary, he knew that they
loved him, called him by a title which meant in their lips the
highest praise [proxtni bariii]. But they did these things
simply becanse 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 uny more.
340 ANNA KAR&NINA.
To this was added the fact that Kitty Shcherbatskaia was
not more than thirty versts away, and he wanted to see her,
and could not.
Darya Aleksatidrovna Oblonskaia, when he called upon
her, invited hiiu 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 canght
the glimpse of Kitty Shcherbatskaia, felt that he had not
ceased to love her; but he could not go to the Oblonskys',
becanse 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, becanse
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 rdle 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. " They 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, becanse
he could not come : to write that he could not come becanse
he was busy, or was going away 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 beantiful 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 KAR&NINA. 341
was glad to go from the neighborhood of the Shchcrbatskys,
and especially from his estate, and to hunt, which for all bis
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 ou 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 ? " 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 mnd, should not soil
the floor, and hade 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 KARtNINA.
fields with their ploughs and horses. The roan horses at
tached to the sokhas were fat and in good condition. The
laborers evidently belonged to the family : two were young
fellows, and wore cotton chintz shirts [rubdkha], 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.
" 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, bdtiushka, 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 in 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 young 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
tarantds, begged the starik to take tea with him.
" Da tchtdl 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 desyutins, 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 desyatins 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 izba was
burned, and each time better. Notwithstanding the starik's
complaints, it was evident that he felt pride in his prosperity,
 ANNA KARtNINA. 343
pride in his sons, in his nephew, his danghters, 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 beantiful 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 \babionk%] do it? "
" Oh ! they pile it up on one side, and then the telyiga
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 Sviazhsky, for example. We know what splen
did land — but they don't get decent crops. All comes from
lack of care."
" Da! 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 some
joke, and all broke into lond guffaws ; and more hilariously
than the others langhed the baba in goloshes, who was pour
ing shchi into a tureen.
It well might be that the jolly face of the baba in the
344 ANNA KARtNINA.
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.
Sviazrsky was marshal [predvoditel] 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 lady 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 Shcherbatskaia.
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 liberal ;
hut 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
otlicial 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 1 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
i Khozyt"ftatvo includes household economy, the outside intercuts, farming, mills,
— every thing connected with an estate. The muster of an estate is catted khouydin,
Ifae mistress khozy(Wc<t, — terms often used for host and hostess.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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
onl/ 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 khozi/tiika , a lady of medinm 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, becanse 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, but his eyes were constantly attracted
to her; and he felt ill at ease, and his constraint was shared
by the young lady 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, hut 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? "
" Y"es : 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 KARtNINA.
" Yes, I teach, and intend to ; but we have an excellent
school-mistress."
" 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 arc saying."
And he went to the other end of the table, where the klioz-
ydin 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 official 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 anthoritative, slow, and stndied 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 Helene,' 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, becanse 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 ! Every thing goes
to destruction. No horses, no cows. They starve to death.
But try to help them, — take them for farm-hands : they
 ANNA KARtNINA. 347
manage to rain 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.
"Mi vot! 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 [khuzyd'Utvo] ? "
demanded the proprietor, especially accenting the word
" rational " [ratsioiialnoe].
" My way is very simple," said Mikhail Petrovitch,
"thank the Lord! My whole business lies in seeing that
the money is ready for the antumn taxes. The muzhiks
come, and say, ' Bdtiushka, help us, father.' Nu! all
these muzhiks are neighbors : I pity 'em. Nu ! 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 hay, harvesting.' Nu! 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 ahout these patriarchal traditions,
exchanged gbnees with Sviazhsky ; and, interrupting Mikhail
Petrovitch, he said, " How would you advise?" addressing
the old proprietor with the gray mustache. " How do you
think one's estate [khozydistvo'] 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.
i Id the Russian m/r, or commune, the *turxhind, or elder, la the chief elected every
Ihrce years. Before the emancipation of the serfs, In i861, each commune had its
district court [volttxtnoi sud], the decisions of which were often very ridiculous.
Amunifthe reforms instituted by the Kmperor A lexander II. wax the xo-called jus.
tice of tin• peace, — more properly, judiie of the peace [inifonn Hudyd], — an innova
tion which al first called much opposition among the peasantry. SJeo Wallace's
" l.ussiA," and Leroy Iieanlien's " L'Einpire des Tsars."
348 -4.tf.ZVr4 KARtNINA.
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 [khozydistvo] , 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 scoru ; 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 agnculture.
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 bur affairs to perfection : drying-rooms
and winnowing-machines and improved carts — all sorts of
tools — we could introduce, becanse 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 anthority ; and so our estates [kkuzydUtvo] , now that
every thing is reduced to the same level, mast necessarily
sink back to the condition of primitive barbarism. This is
my view of it."
" Da! but why? If that were rational, then yon could
keep on with your improvements by hiring help," said
Sviazhsky.
"Not without anthority. 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 KARtNINA. 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 tcltetverta [5.775 English
bushelsJ of wheat, you can raise only a few hundred thou
sand. The public wealth is diminishing. If they were
going to free the serfs, they 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 thiug. Our
agriculture [khozydistvo] always needed to be pushed."
" Da! but it would need some power, Nikolai Ivanuitch.
Very well for yon; 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 KARtNINA.
"There are banks on purpose."
" To have 01y last goods and chattels sold under the ham
mer. No, thank ybu ! "
" 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, langhing 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 [khozydi$teo] 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 k/iozyuika 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 r, 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 [khozydtn], or
I sink my capital to increase the revenue."
''Ark! 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 0u it. the worse it is — that is becanse it exhansts
it — so there is no revenue."
" How, no revenue? It is a law? "
" Then we are exceptions to the law. The word revenue
[reuta'] 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 KARtNINA. 3a1
eurds or some raspberries," said Rviazbsky 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
rinm which will utilize the forces of the laborer, and render
them productive ? "
" That will never come about with the Russian people :
there is no anthority," 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 day-laborer,
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? "
" Becanse 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 KARtNINA.
"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 Miilhansen, —
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,
yon should go into them."
" But where do they lead you? " —
" Beg pardon."
The two pomyishchiks 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 nn-
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 KARtNINA. 3f,3
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 [stutkd] , 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?" Whi"u Sviazhsky was through. Levin could
not help saying, " 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 con6rmed 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, langhing.
" 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 Jtatrtondlnoc khozydUtvo.
354 ANNA KARtNINA.
is strange to them. In Europe the ' rational management '
succeeds becanse 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 yon're
worse for it. I suggest socialism : worse still. Education :
still worse."
"Da! But what can schools do ? "
" They 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, becanse 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 buba with a baby at the breast, and I asked her where she
had been. She said, 'To the bubka'.?:1 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, langhing 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
babku'n method of curing. The peasantry are wretched and
uncivilized : this we see as plainly as the baba saw her child's
distress becanse 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 remedy the
canse of the misery."
i Habka, diminutive of baba, — a peasant grandmother; popular name for the
midwife.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 355
" Nu! In this at least yon 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, cot! 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 very little con
sequence to him where his conclflsions 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 jndicious 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 cansed 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, 1.*vin
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 becanse 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 KARtNINA.
advance only where the work is carried on in consonance
with the customs of the laborers, as at the house of the
star'k on the highway. Our failure to carry on our estates
profitably, results either from our fanlt 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
ou 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 antumn harvests,
so that the muzhiks might reap under the new conditions.
He had decided entirely to reform his method of administra
tion.
XXIX.
The carrying-out of Levin's plan offered many 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 running-order, and that it was
impossible to come to a sndden stop and begin anew. He
had to wind the machine up by degrees.
When he reached home in the evening, he summoned hia
prikashdiik, 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 prUaishchik
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 KARtNINA. 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
their conviction that his real purpose was hidden. They, on
their side, made many words ; but they 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 way ; and by antumn 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] composed of members of his
family, and took charge of the cattle-yard. The new field
was taken by the shrewd carpenter Feodor Rezunof, who
joined with him seven families of muzhiks; and the muzhik
iShuraef 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 KARtNINA.
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 Angust the Oblonskys returned to
Moscow, as he learned through the man that brought back
the saddle. The memory of his rndeness in not answering
Darya Aleksandrovna's note, or going to call upon them,
cansed 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 stndied 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 beantiful but impracticable
fancies, such as he dreamed when he was a stndent, 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 KARtNINA. 359
$0 abroad and stndy on the spot certain special questions,
so as not to be always sent from one anthority to another, —
to Kanfman, to Le Bois, to Michelet.
He saw clearly now that Kanfman 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 antumn 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 prikanhcliik 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 rivnlets that trickled
360 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 dvantik
[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 serf, a man who went to a ball in a black
necktie, and was rejected by a ShcherbaUky , 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 priknshchik, 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
prikdshehik told how he had seen wheat still standing in
the field by the road, while his one hundred and sixty
stiicks, 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 KARtNINA. 301
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 nutchalniks 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 snddenly arose, and began
to walk up and down the room. The memory of Kitty and
her refusal, and the recent glimpse of her, came before his
imagination with extraordinary vividness.
"Zfci/ why trouble yourself?" asked Agafya Mikhailovna.
" Nu ! why do you stay at home? You had better go to the
warm spi'ings if your mind is made up."
" I am going day after to-morrow, Agafya Mikhailovna ;
but I had to finish up my business."
" Nu! your business, indeed! Haven't you given these
muzhiks enough already ? And they say, ' Our burin is
after some favor from the Tsar ; ' and strange it is. Why
do you work so for the muzhiks 1 ' '
" I am not working for them : I am doing for myself."
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 Denisiteh : 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."
" Dal 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."
" Nu! 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 KARtNINA.
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 Mikaflovna'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 mnddy 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 nw&y 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 KARtNINA. 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 lime; 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 impetnous.
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,
in the samethin
gay hair,
and and wenthumor
happy up-stairs
th•atradiant. He was
Konstantin had
seen when he was a child. He even spoke of Sergei
Ivanoviteh 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. " Dal 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."
" Marya Nikolayevna? How? What for?"
364 ANNA KARtNINA.
tiAch! she was a wretched woman ! She cansed 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 becanse she made his tea too weak, still less
becanse 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 reality 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 unnaturalness, 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 oue 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 cry out, ' ' ^l<7t /
Buzhe 7tWi!" 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 KARtNINA. 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, — dtath."
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 snddenly
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 langh, langh 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 beantifully. 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
candle, 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."
360 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 fanlt, 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 fanlt 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."
"Z)a/ 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 KARtNINA. mi
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 stndied from the same point of view as the natural
sciences, to learn its constitution and " —
"Zto/ 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 becanse 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 you 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 twiteh 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
Konstantin 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 KAR£NINA.
"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 bis 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, langhing. "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 KARtNINA. 869

PART IV.

L
Kar£nin 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 canse of all the trouble, and the one
ou 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 enjoyed 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
Spanish girl who played the mandolin ; in Switzerland he
370 ANNA KARtNINA.
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
canse he had changed of late, or else becanse 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 than once, in listening to the prince's remarks about
the Russian women whom he condescended to stndy. 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 prond 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 KARtNINA. 371

II.
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 Aleksandrovitch 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 Karelins' house, he again looked at
his watch, and saw that it was ten minutes of nine. A
coitp4, 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 Aleksci Aleksandrovitch. A gaslight placed at the
entrance of the vestibule threw full light on his pale, worn
872 A NNA KARtNINA.
face. He wore a black hat; and his white cravat, tied
under a fur collar, was conspicuous. Karelin's gloomy, dull
eyes fixed themselves upon Vrousky, 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 becanse 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.
"Did 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 KARtNINA. 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 you 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 canse of the sndden change in her beantiful
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
sho did not work.
"Liza came to see me this morning — they came to my
house again, in spite of the Countess Lidia Ivanovna — and
told me about your Athenian nights. What an abomina
tion I"
"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
1 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 only possi
ble to a man for whom a woman has sacrificed every thing,
happiness seemed farther off than when he left Moscow.
" Well, tell me what you have to say 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 mc 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-informed 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 you. 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 nervously,
drawing her crochet-needle through the stitches of white
wool, which gleamed in the lamplight.
"Tell mc how you met Aleksei Aleksandrovitch," she
asked snddenly, in a voice still constrained.
" We almost ran against each other at the door."
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 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
langh, with that fresh, ringing langh, 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 you, and provoked a duel with
me ; but how can he bear the actual situation ? One can see
that he suffers. "
"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 ijell 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 cktre Anna."
" He is not a man, I tell you : he is a puppet. If I were
;n his place, I would long ago have torn in pieces a woman
like myself, instead of saying, • You, ma chdre 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
876 ANNA KABt NINA.
her from continuing ; and she placed her white hand, whose
rings sparkled in the lamplight, on Vrousky's arm.
" What do you 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 hi»
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 you 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?" tyid Vronsky involuntarily recalled the
muzhik (peasant) of his nightmare.
"Yes, in a dream," she continued, "some time ago. I
dreamed that I ran into my 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, ' Jl funt le battre, le fer,
h broyer, le pitrie.' 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 mv
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 KARtNINA. 377
She snddenly ceased speaking. Horror and fright disap
peared from her face, which assumed an expression of atten
tive, serious sweetness.
IV.
After meeting Vronsky, Aleksei 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 gloomy 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 KARtNINA.
" 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
«lbow 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 plansible 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 rndeness made her bold — "is it possible that
you are not aware how easy it is for you to wound me? "
" 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 becanse he gives his wife
perfect freedom, on the so\e condition that she respect the
laws of propriety? You call that cruelty, do vou? "
" 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 bo 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 trop, and she
replied gently, —
" You cannot jndge 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 KARtNINA. 379
that you may know, that, since you pay no attention to my
wishes, I shall hike 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
sutlers "— In his emotion, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch spoke
so rapidly that he stammered ; and this stammering seemed
ridiculous to Anna, who nevertheless immediately reproached
herself becanse she could be sensible to the ridiculous at
such a moment. Kor 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 began 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 canse 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.
"•Aleksei 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 KARtNINA.

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-
sei 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 Aleksfi 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 jndi
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 prejndices.
" The lawyer 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 KARtNINA. 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 vnlgar ; his manner pretentious
and in bad taste.
" Be so good as to walk in," said he, turning to Aleksei
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
hardly seated when a moth-miller flew on the table, and
the little man, with unexpected liveliness, canght it on the
wing : then he resumed quickly his former attitnde.
" 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 you know my name? "
" I know you," and again he canght 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 coutinned, 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 cansed 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.
" You wish my assistance to obtain the divorce? "
" Exactly ; but I run the risk of wasting your time, be
382 ANNA KARtNINA.
canse I have only come to ask preliminary advice. I wish to
remain within certain limits, anii I shall give up the divorce
unless it is consonant with the forms I wish to keep."
" Oh ! you will always 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 Aleksei
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 Karenin, " but I should like to kuow 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? 80 it being neither a case of physical defect, nor
absence of one of the parties, as far as I understand?" —
Aleksei Alexandrovitch asseuteu, with an luiauiauou 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
tmued, —
"The simplest, the most reasonable way,.in my opinion,
 ANNA KARtNINA. 383
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."
Aleksei 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."
Aleksei 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 and 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."
Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 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 canght 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 Aleksei Aleksan
drovitch. leaning against the table; "and since I conclnde
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, elnding 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 KARtNINA.
" Certainly."
Tim 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 Aleksel Aleksandrovitch in
the assembly of the l7th of August had unfavorable results.
The new commission, appointed to stndy the situation of
the foreign population, had acted with a promptness sur
prising to Karenin : at the end of three months it pre
sented its report. The condition of this population had
been stndied 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 bureancracy. 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 Aleksei 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 canse, he snddenly went over to Kan5-
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 Aleksei 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 KAR&NINA. 385
and their dissatisfaction reflected on the originator of tho
commission. Karenin 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 factions : some of
them, with Stremof, explained their mistake through over-
coufidence, and declared the reports of the committee of
inspection to be absurd ; others, with Karenin, 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 equally problematical. Kare-
nin's position, already threatened by the bad effect cansed
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 stndy 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 carnages of every description
are always thronging ; and turning at the sound of a gay,
sonorous voice, he saw Stepan Arkadyevitch on the side
walk. Dressed in an overcoat of the latest fashion, his great
stylish hat on one side, his face glowing with youth and good
health, he called with such persistency that Karenin 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 :
380 ANNA KARtNINA.
but Ohlonsky motioned to the coachman to stop, and ran
through the snow to the carnage.
'•How long have you been here? What a shame not to
let us know you were coming ! I saw the name of Karenin
on the list of arrivals at Dusseanx'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 very busy," replied Aleksei Alek-
sandrovitch briefly.
" Come and speak to my wife : she wants to see you very
much."
Karenin 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 Karenin, 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 Stepan Arkadyevitch detained him.
" Do you 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 von 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 yon."
And he went back to his carriage. "Yon will come?"
cried Dolly again. Karenin 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 KAR£NINA. 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 Bolshoi [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 lUbut 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 Dusseanx's,
where three travellers, friends of his, by happy chance, were
stopping, — Levin, just returned from his journey abroad;
his new natchulnik [chief], who had just been appointed,
and had come to Moscow to look into affairs ; and lastly,
bis brother-in-law, Karenin.
Stepan Arkadyevitch was fond of a good dinner, but what
be 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 r&xixtance,
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 Karenin, a
l'etersburger 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 weleome ;
uniting the fact of Aleksei Aleksandrovitch's coolness with
certain rumors that had reached his ears about his sister's
relations with Vronsky, he suspected serious trouble between
3S8 ANNA KARtNINA.
the husband and wife. The second shadow was the arrival
of the new niitchiilmk, 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 Ntcpan
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 natcluilnik.
" 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 KARtNINA. 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. Shcheibatskv told me that he had
found vou 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 ns, how
miserable life seems ! When we know that death will surely
come, and that there will he 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 becanse 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."
" Dal 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
ns to-day. Your brother will be with us : my brother-in-law,
Karelin, 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.
" Whether she has come back or not, it's all the same. I
will accept," he thought.
390 ANNA KARENINA.

" Will you come?"

"JVa/ Of course I will."
" At five o'clock in frock-coat."
And Stepan Arkadvevitch rose, and went down to see the
new natchahiik. Insfinet 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 anxiliary 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, Aleksel 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 his brother-in-law
were at home, and insisting upon being announced.
"So much the worse," thought Alekst'i Aleksandroviteh,
" 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.
" Nu! 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 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch's room.
" I am delighted to find," — he began gayly. " I hope" —•
"It will be impossible for me to go," replied Aleksei
 ANNA KARtNINA. 301
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 beantiful 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 becanse our family
relations must be broken."
'•How is that? Why?" said Oblonsky with a smile.
" Becanse 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.
•' Aleksei 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."
Aleksei 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 thing 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 Aleksei 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 yet 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 KAR&NINA.
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 wiih 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. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch had never liked Count
Anitchkin, and he cpuldn'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 bureancracy, 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 tanght him how to make
a drink, you know — wine and oranges."
Stepan Arkadyevitch looked at his watch. " Ach, bdliush-
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."
Aleksei Aleksandrovitch took leave of his brother-in-law
very differently from the way in which he had greeted him.
" I have promised, and I will come," he replied in a mel
ancholy 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 Sergei Ivanovitch Koznuishef and
Pestsof at the door. The old Prince Aleksandr Dmitrievitch
 ANNA KARtNINA. 393
Shcherbatsky, Karelin, Turovtsuin, Kitty, and the young
Shcherbatsky were already in the drawing-room. Conver
sation was languishing. Darya Aleksandrovna, anxious
becanse 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 Arkadyevitch 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 Karenin a subject of conversation,
— the Falsification of Poland, — installed the old prince
near Dolly, complimented Kitty on her beanty, 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 Oblousky, taking him by
the arm.
"Are there many people here? Who are they?" asked
Levin, blushing involuntarily, and with his glove brushing
away the snow from lns 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 canght as she sat in her car
riage.
" How will she seem ? Just as she used to? If Dolly had
only been right ! AVby wasn't she right? " he thought.
" Achl Present me to Karenin, I 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
l«'en 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 bad not been so brilliant.
"It is a long time since we have seen each other," she
forced herself to say.
394 ANNA KARtNINA.
" 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 Karenin.
" 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-
kuska 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 Russifieation 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 lis 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 fanlt ; 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 langhed, and Oblonsky most of all.
" Do you still practise gymnastics? " said Oblonsky, tak
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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 Aleksei 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 recaleitrant 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:Iaw, — 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 poluskAbok [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 nvy 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.
3% ANNA KAR&NINA.
" What makes him look so trinmphant? " thought be.
And really, Levin felt as though he had wings. For she
was listening to him, she was taking pleasure in what he
said : every 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 Arkadyeviteh seemed entirely to forget Levin and
Kitty in placing his guests at table : then snddenly remem
bering them, he put them side by side.
'• Nu! you can sit there," said he to Levin.
The dinner, elegantly served, — for Stepan Arkadyeviteh
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.
Pkstsof, 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 densitv 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 Aleksandrovitch.
" It seems to me that that amounts to the same thing,"
replied Karenin slowly. " In my jndgment, 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 bis 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 KAntNINA. 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 Karenin. " As for my education, it was classi
cal ; but that doesn't hinder me from finding that classical
stndies 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 Pcstsof.
" Look at astronomy, botany, and zoology, with the unity of
their laws ! "
" That is an opinion that I cannot share," replied Aleksei
Aleksandrovitch. " Can the happy influence on the develop
ment of intelligence be denied in the stndy of the forms of
language? Ancient literature is eminently moral ; while, un
fortunately for us, the stndy 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 Aleksei
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 KARtNINA.
This made everybody langh, 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 cany on the conversation ; for Kozunishef 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 Aleksandrovitch 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 becanse 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 priuce, whose little,
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 399
scornful eyes shone as he listened to this conversation. " I
may repeat it before my danghters : ' Woman has long
hair'" —
"That is the way we jndged the negroes before their
emancipation! " cried Pestsof with dissatisfaction.
" I admit that what astouishes 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 langhing, and Sergei Ivanovitch re
gretted that he was not the anthor of this pleasantry. Even
Aleksci Aleksandrovitch himself smiled.
"Da! enough of nurses," said Sergei Ivanuitch. "But
women " —
" But what about young girls, without am- family ? " asked
Stepan Arkadyevitch, 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 Turovtsum, letting the large cnd of a piece of
asparagus fall into his sance.
XI.
Kittv 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 KARtNINA.
called the opinions that he had formed on the subject ; but
they quickly disappeared, as of no louder 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 marry. 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 canght 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 you 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
you were thinking about! Was it something very impor
tant?"
" Is it possible that I didn't have 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 langhing merrily, —
" I really don't know any thing about it."
" How heartily Turovtsuin langhs! " said Levin, admiring
the gayety of this big fellow, whose eyes were moist, and his
sides shaking with langhter.
" 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 misjndged him; but he is an ex
cellent man. His heart — true gold."
 ANNA KARtNINA. 401
" How can yon 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 scarlatina, 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 Konstantin Dmitritch of Turovt-
suin's kindness at the time of the scarlatina," said she, turn
ing towards her sister.
" Yes, it was remarkable : it was lovely ! " replied Dolly,
looking at Turovtsuin 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 Aleksei 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 snddenly offered a cigar to Karenin.
" 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 KAR&NINA.
The conversation seemed fated, on this occasion, to touch
Aleks<•i Aleksandrovitch on the sore spot. Stepan Arkadye-
viteh noticed it, and wished to come to his brother-in-law's
assistance ; but Karen in asked, with curiosity, " Why did
he fight a duel?"
" Oil 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 Aleksandrovitch, preserving the air of indiffer
ence cansed 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, " 1 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."
Karenin 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
Shcbeibatsky, 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
sei 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 KAR&NINA. 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.
" I 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 fads.
" 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.
Aleksei Aleksandrovitch smiled coolly out of the corners
of his mouth : he wished to prove to Dolly, and to prove to
himself, that his couviction 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 son 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 son. 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.
" Ach ! it is terrible ! but are you really decided about
the divorce? "
" I have resorted to this at last, becanse " —
" 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 KARtNINA.
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 ue pent vivre d, 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 snddenly she folded her hands
with a supplicating gesture, and, lifting her eyes fearlessly
to Kartinin, " 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 Karenin, raising his shoulders
and his eyebrows ; and the memory of his last explanation
with his wife, snddenly 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! "
Aleksei Aleksandrovitch listened ; but Dolly's words were
of no effect, for the anger which cansed him to decide upon
a divorce was rankling in his soul. He replied in a lond,
penetrating voice, "Forgive her? I cannot, nor do I wish
to. It would be unjust. I have done what was next to im
 ANNA KARtNINA. 405
possible for this ■woman, and she has dragged every thing
m the mire, which seems to suit her better. I am not a bud
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.
'■ Love them that hate you," murmured Dolly, almost
ashamed.
Aleksei Aleksandrovitch smiled scornfully. He was famil
iar with these words, but they 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, Karenin 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, and 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 IVstsof 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 KAR&NINA.
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. Shchcrbatsky stepped
away ; and the young girl, going to a card-table, sat down,
and, taking a piece of chalk in her hand, 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, t, i, w, i, t, 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 stndied 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 » 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 : t, I, 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 amid not answer differently."
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 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 absolutely 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 allnde to his good fortune. To avoid
being alone, he joined his brother.
" Where are you going? "
" To a meeting."
" Nu ! I'll go with you. May I? "
408 ANNA KAR&NINA.
" Why not? " said Sergei Ivanovitch, smiling. " What has
happened to you to-day? "
" Wiiat has happened? Good fortune," said Levin, let
ting down 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 shnbu, 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 y<jur 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 trinmphant 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 nobly 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 Sergei Ivanovitch.
" Very much : I never should have believed that it would
be so interesting."
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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 prejndices ; 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
clnded 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
lnding 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 ahout to
withdraw when Levin stopped him. This fellow was called
Yegor. Never before had he paid any attention to him ; but
he snddenly became aware that he was a good, intelligent
man, and, above all, kind-hearted.
" Tell me, Yegor, don't you fmd 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 Yegor 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 Yegor, remarking that
people are always happy where there is love, becanse their
happiness is in themselves. Yegor listened attentively, and
evidently understood Levin's meaning ; but he confirmed it
410 ANNA KAR&NINA.
by an unexpected reflection, — that when he, Yegor, 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. "Nu! 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 ya\vning. " 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 beantiful,
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 KAR&NINA. 411

XV.
The streets were still deserted when Levin reached the
Sheherbatskys' 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 [whitehead] 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 hearty, 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 watch 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 sutkis
[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 clond of fine snow ; and the smell of hot
bread came through the window where the saikis were dis
played. All these, taken as a whole, produced so lively an
impression on Levin that he began to langh alond. 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
izvoshchiks, 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 KARlSNINA.
ised to take them some other time ; then he drove to the
Shcherbatskys'. The izvoshchik 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 you 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 canght the old man's good-natured eyes.
" Are they up? "
" Please come in. Leave that here," added the Swiss as
Levin w;is turning back to get his shopka [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
ih"ar. 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 KARtNINA. 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 watch 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 rind mamma," said she, taking his hand.
For a long time he could not utter a word, becanse not
only was he afraid of lessening the intensity of his joy by
words, but becanse 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
druwing-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, putting 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 KARtNINA.

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."
" Nu! 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 danghter who was to be married, but themselves.
When they had gone out, Levin approached his Jiancie,
and took her hand ; he had regained his self-possession5 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 KARtNINA. 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 happy 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, instead 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! 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, becanse there
would be many expenses for presents and other necessities
of the hour.
410 ANNA KARtNINA.

" For presents? Really?" and he started off ou the run

to buy jewellery at Fn lda's.
At the confectioner's, at Famin's, at Fnlda's, everybody
seemed to expect him, and everybody seemed happy and
trinmphant, 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,
becanse his fiancee was the pink of perfection : and Kitty wag
impressed in the same way.
When the Countess Nordstonc allnded 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 cansed her to shed
bitter tears.
Levin had a great struggle with himself ltefore he decided
to make this confession : he was resolved to make it becanse
he wished to have no secrets between thpm, 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 KAll6NINA. 417
them to me? However, perhaps it was for the hest," 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, Aleksel 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 tue 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 Aleksandrovitch opened them : the first announced
the nomination of Strcmof to the place for which he had
been ambitious. Karenin threw down the telegram, and
began to walk up and down the room. " Quox vnU perdere
Jupiter elementaI," 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 speechifler, 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 KA RtNINA.
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-!1 to prevent the divorce? The despatch says, 'I am
dving.' " He re-read the telegram, and snddenly realized
its full meaning. "If it were true, — if the suffering, the
approach of death, had cansed 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 (luring the journey. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, tired
and dusty with his night of travelling, reached Petersburg in
the early morning. He crossed the still deserted Nevsky 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, becanse 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 izvoskchiks, 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 carriage with a coachman
asleep, standing before the door. On the steps Aleksei
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 KARtNINA. 419
The Swiss opened the door even before Karcnin rang the
bell ; the Swiss presented a strange appearance, without any
necktie, dressed in an old coat and slippers.
" How is the buruina? "
" She is as comfortable as could be expected."
Aleksei 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 verv low," he said. " There was a consul
tation yesterday, and the doctor is here now."
" Take my things," said Aleksei 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. Aleksei Aleksandro
vitch noticed it, and asked, —
" Who is here? "
" The doctor, the nurse, and Count Vronsky."
Karenin 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 boudm'r. She came to Aleksei
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, Aleksei Alek
sandrovitch saw Vronsky weeping, his face covered with 1) is
hands. He started at the sound of the doctor's voice, un
covered his face, and found himself in the presence of Kare-
nin. 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, Aleksei Aleksandrovitch
felt the involuntary tenderness that the sufferings of others
always cansed 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 KARtNINA.
ly, gay, and articulating clearly. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch
went in, and approached her bed. Her face was turned to
wards him. Her checks were bright, her eyes brilliant : her
little white hands, coming 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 lond, 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. Ach! Bozhe.rn.otl what agony ! Give me some
water, quick! Ach! but that is not good for her, — my
little danghter. 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 Aleksandro-
vitch.
" Ach! 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, becanse you do not kno.w him. Nobody
- knows him. I alone — His eyes, oue 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."
Snddenly 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, becanse 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 sec 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, anii his emotion hardly
allowed him to glance at the dying woman. He took her
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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, Aim, 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
Kome : there is a desert there. I shall not trouble anybody
there. I will only take Serozha and my little danghter.
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 Aleksandroviteh's emotion became so great that
he could no longer control himself. He snddenly 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
thev 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, snddenly
looking towards the door, towards Vronsky. "Come! come
here, and give him your hand."
422 ANNA KARtNINA.
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. " Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, uncover his face :
I want to see him."
Aleksei Aleksandrovitch took Vronsky's hands and uncov
ered his face, disfigured by suffering and humiliation.
" Give him your hand ; forgive him." •
Aleksei 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 c4o not
look like violets," she said, pointing to the hangings in her
room. "Bozhe mc/i! Bozhe moil when will this be over?
Give me some morphine, doctor ; some morphine. Bozhe
moil Bozhe moi! " 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 Aleksei 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 mc. 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 KARtNINA. 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. l,ut" —
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 away from me this joy of forgiving."
Tears filled his eyes. Vronsky was amazed at the calm,
luminous face.
'• These are my feelings. You may drag me in the dust,
and make me the langhing-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. ' ' jVIy 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. Vronsky rose too,
and, standing with bowed head and humble attitnde, looked
up at Karenin, without a word to say. He was incapable of
understanding Aleks<5i 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 prondly 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 snddenly 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 KAR£NINA.
changed. He felt Karenin's grandenr 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 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch had uncovered his face while
he was hiding it in his hands. Standing motionless on the
steps of the Kareuin house, he seemed to be entirely uncon
scious of what he was doing.
" Shall I call an izvoshcltik? " 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
sei Aleksandrovitch 's singular attitnde 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 forgetful ness.
Snddenly, 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
 A NNA KA RtNINA . 425
face, and her brilliant eyes looking tenderly, not at him, but
at her husband ; he saw his own absurd, ridiculous face
when Aleksei Aleksandrovitch drew away his hands 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 alond, 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 hc.side
him a cushion embroidered by his sister-in-law Varia. He
tried to fix the thought of Varia in his mind by 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. Snddenly 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? Serpnkhovskoi ? the world? the court?" all
that once had some meaning, but it had none now. He rose,
took off his coat, loosened his necktie tiiat he might breathe
more freely, and began to stride up and down the room.
 426 ANNA KAR&NINA.
" It is this that makes people insane," he repeated, "that
canses 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
v 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, Vrousky'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 mail to bed, and
established herself his nurse.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 427

XJX.
Aleksei Aleksandrovitcii 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 becanse he had not fore
seen this eventuality, but also becanse 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 grief"s 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
Aleksei 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.
l1e 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, becanse 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 fmgers. 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 KARtNINA.
which directed his life in spite of himself, and gave him no
peace. He felt that everybody was looking at him, and
questioning his attitnde, not understanding it, and expecting
him to do something. Especially he felt the unnaturamesa
and constraint of his relations with his wife.
When the tenderness caused by the expectation of her
death had passed away, Aleksei 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. Aleksel Alek
sandrovitch 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 Aleksei 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 Karenin ;
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 Karenin 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 KARtNINA. 429
"She is in pain, nevertheless," said Aleksei 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 an}" better? " asked Aleksei Aleksandrovitch.
"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 Karenin 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 young nurse, and rocked
her in order to pacify her.
" You must ask the doctor to examine the young nurse,"
said Aleksei 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 KAR&NINA.

looked with melancholy face at the little thing. But snd

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 becanse 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 not 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.
" Dal 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 jlo not wish to see him
again."
Karenin, 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 weleomed Aleksei Aleksandroviteh
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! yon are a wonderful
husband ! " She gave him a friendly, flattering look, as
much as to say that she approved of Karenin's behavior
towards his wife.
 ANNA KAR1$NINA. 481
Aleksei Aleksandroviteh 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, snddenly 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 Aleksandroviteh bent his head, and cracked his
knuckles.
" Betsy 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 Aleksei
Aleksandroviteh," corrected Betsy.
" Da ! No, I cannot sec him, and that should not lead "—
she stopped snddenly to question her husband's face : he was
not looking at her. " In short, I do not wish " —■
Aleksei Aleksandroviteh 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! proshchaite, my treasure," said Betsy, rising. She
kissed Anna, and went out. Karenin accompanied her.
"Aleksei Aleksandroviteh," 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 KARtNINA.
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 your
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 hnsband return, she rose quickly, and looked
at him in a flightened 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 tin irritated Anna in spite
of herself. "I am ve^- 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 ' ' —
"Da! 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 yon 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 qnickly, 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 KARtNINA. 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 nen-0usly 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 heing 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 spile 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 ! Ach! 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 over 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 KARtNINA.
and that he would be obliged to do what was painful to him,
but necessary to be done.
XXI.
Betsv 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? What 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.
" Wait 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, langhing.
" Oh, yes, I do ! for I have become a serious man. I 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. Oue 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 KAR&NINA. 43f,
beat, and after paying her an impndent compliment, at which
she langhed, 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 clond. 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 snddenly ; " 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
happy 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 }"0ii see every thing exag
gerated. There is really nothing so very terrible."
And Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled at her evident despair
without seeming rnde ; 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 tim not yet lost : I cannot still say that all is over,
alas ! I feel the contrary. I scom 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 fmish.
" No ; listen to me ; you cannot jndge of your position so
well as I. Let me tell you frankly my opinion." He smiled
again cantiously, with his almond-oily smile. " I will begin
436 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 yourself have just said that you could no longer
endure " —
" No, I did not say so. I deny it. I know nothing. I
understand nothing."
" Dal 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."
Stcpan Arkadyevitch 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 beantiful
face lighted up for a moment ; and he came to the conclu
sion, that, if she did not express her wishes, it was becanse
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 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch."
Anna looked at him out of her brilliant, thoughtful eyes,
and did not reply.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 437

XXII.
Stepan AuKADYEViTch went into his brother-in-law's stndy,
with the solemn face which he tried to assume when he sat
in his official chair at a council-meeting. Karenin, 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 Karenin ; 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 — I 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 Aleksandrovitch 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 Arkadyevitch 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 KARtNINA.
that, during 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 may deem just and right."
Ohlonsky 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 A rkadyev itch's lips trembled convnlsively, while he
did not take his eyes from Karelin's face.
" That is what I wanted to say to her," said Aleksei
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. She is not a jndge of the matter," said Stepan
Arkadyeviteh, trying to recover himself. " She is crushed,
literally crushed by your generosity of soul : if she should
read your letter, she would he unable to say a word, and
could only how 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 Ohlonsky, rising, and growing more animated.
" You once spoke of divorce — if you 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 Karenin, giving
himself up to the weakness which overpowered him, was in
clined to believe his brother-in-law. " She will never say what
 ANNA KARtNINA. 439
her wishes are. Bat 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 canse
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 Aleksei 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 " —
Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 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 he 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, you 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 Y•rousky by a
440 ANNA KARtNINA.

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 Aleksei 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, }"ou 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 Vrousky had done.
"You arc distressed; I understand it; but if you 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 your 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 KARtNINA. 441
accept it as an accomplished fact, and I will try to help you
and her," said Stepan Arkadyevitch.
When Oblonsky left his brother-in-law's stndy, he was sin
cerely affected, which did not prevent him from being de
lighted at having settled this matter ; for he was certain that
AleksfM Aleksandrovitch would not go back on his word.
His satisfaction suggested a conundrum which he could ask
his wife and intimate friends : —
" What 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.
Vronskv'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 iu 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
humiliatiou which had weighed ou him before. Henceforth
442 ANNA KARtNINA.
he could think calmly of Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, 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. What 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
Karen in, 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.
Serpnkhovsko'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 burv 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.
" 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 Oblonsky, that Aleksci
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 :
Vronsky'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 KARiNINA. 443
" Yes, you have conquered me: I am yours ! " she suc
ceeded in saying at last.
" So it had to be ! and so long as we live, 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 iove increasing, it
would increase, becanse 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 I Udy : you will grow strong there."
"Is it possible that wc 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 he 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 sou 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.
" Ach! 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 anthorities, he gave in his
resignation.
A month later, Aleksl'i Aleksandroviteh was left alone
with his son, and Anna went abroad with Vronsky, refusing
a divorce, and peremptorily taking leave of him.
444 ANNA KAR&NINA.

PART V.
I.
The Princess Shcherbatskaia thought it would not be
possible to have the wedding any time within the five weeks
before Lent, on account of the troussean, 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 annt of the prince's was
very ill, and liable to die. So a medinm course was taken,
by deciding to have the wedding before Lent, and to prepare
only a small part of the troussean at once, leaving the larger
part till afterwards. The young couple intended to set out
for the countrv 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,
Sergei 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 alter the wedding;
Stepan Arkadyevitch advised him to go abroad. He con
sented to everything. Make whatever plans you plei.se,"
ha thought, " I am happy ; and whatever you may decide
on, my joy will be neither greater nor less." But when he
told Kilty 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 :.t home in his work, and although she
neither understoed his affairs, nor tried to understand them,
stiil 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
mi nation surprised Levin ; but it seemed to him all right,
and he begged Stepan 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, langhing,
"and you look on me as a nihilist! But that can't be
allowed to go on ; you must go to cuunmmion."
" 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 lns 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 KARENINA.
views. He could not believe ; he was also equally unable
absolutely to disbelieve. This confusion of feelings cansed
him extreme pain and annoyance during the time allotted to
his devotions ; his conscience cried out that to act without
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 tha£ his own thoughts
might not be disturbed.
" 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 langhing 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 KARENINA. 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 you 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 evervthing."
" 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
vanlt with its stars, decked the earth with all its beanty?
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 has 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 danghter of
my parishioner and spiritual son, the Prince Shcherbatsky,"
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 your
little children if you do not succeed in conquering the temp
tations of the devil, who canses you to doubt? If yon 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 yon 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 becanse he was afraid this time of
an unbecoming discussion, but becanse nobody had ever put
such questions to him before, and becanse 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 KARENINA. 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
son, in his goodness and loving kindness to all mankind."
Ajid 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 fiancie at Dolly's
was very gay ; while talking with Stepan Arkadyevitch, he
said that he waa 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 Jiancie 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 fmally, 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 DmitrieVitch," said
Katavasof, with the slow speech of a professor accus
tomed to be listened to. " What a talented fellow he was !
450 ANNA karEnina.
I speak of him in the past, for he no longer exists. H«
loved science when he led 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 vour wed-
ding."
"But I am already in love."
"Yes; with your mollusks. You know," said Levin,
" Mikhail Semenuitch 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
mollusks."
" 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 Prndnof, 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
happv one may be, he is always sorry to give up his lib
erty."
 ANNA KARENINA. 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 lond langh.
" 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 langh ! "
" 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. Nu !
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 talk
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 snddenly 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
Vronsky, 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
are? Anything is better than life-lonsr nnhappiness, shame,
distrust ! ' " And with despair in his heart, full of hatred to
452 ANNA KARENINA.

wards all mankind, towards himself and Kitty, he hastened

to hi-r 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.
" A<:h!" she exclaimed, beaming with joy at seeing him.
" Is it tai? is it vui? [Till this last day she had sometimes
said tui, sometimes ««».] I 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 beantiful, 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?"
' ' I am — 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 on r — ? " —
" 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?"
" Bozlie mot! what can I do?" said she; and she burst
into tears.

_
 ANNA KARENINA. 453
" AcA ! ■what have I done ? " he cried instantly, and throw
ingW•hen
himself
theon his knees,
princess cameheinto
covered her hands
the room with kisses.
live minutes later,
she found them completely reconciled. Kitt}" had not only
convinced her fianci of her love, hut she had explained to
him why she loved him. She said that she loved him becanse
she understood him perfectly ; becanse she knew that he
could love, and that all he loved was good and beantiful.
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 at 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 beanty ; 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
he sent for the shafer (best man), while another was to come
to the hotel for Sergei Ivnnovitch. 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 attitnde
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 away, and in great perplexity about
the carriage arrangements.
454 ANNA KARENINA.
"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.
m.
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 offleer 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 chaeing 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 eehoed strangely
beneath the high, vanlted 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 di,or 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 elnde 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 KAR0NINA. 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 (shafers)
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 m the Shcherbat-
skys' drawing-room, with her sister, Madame Lvova, and
her nuptial god-mother (pomzhionaia 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?"
"Dal 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 KARENINA.

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 cage, 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 Mdtushka, more
dead than alive ! " was murmured through the crowd, as
Levin came in with KiMy.
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 beantiful to him than ever. But it was not be
canse the flowers or her veil or her Parisian dress added any
thing to her beanty : 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 witn a smile.
" What happened to me was so absurd that I am ashamed
to tell you about it," be 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 langh.
" Yes, yes," replied Levin, without understanding a word
that had been said.
" Nu, ! 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? —
Chat is the question."
" Yes, yes ; new ones."
" jVu/ 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 Nordstone, stepping up to her. — "You look
your best," she added, addressing Levin.
" Are you frightened?" asked Marya Dmitrievna, an old
annt.
" You aren't cold, are you? You look pale. Bend forward
a moment," said Madame Lvova, raising her beantiful 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 langh
nervously.
Kitty looked at those around her as absent-mindedly as
Levin.
During this time the officiating clergy 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 he said.
" Take her hand and go forward," whispered his ahafer 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
the 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, 0 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,
Koustantin and Ekaterina, and pour forth thy benefits upon
them. For the glory of the Father, and of the Son, and of
the Holv 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 conclnded 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
160 ANNA KAK0NINA.
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, sh« rejoiced in the sentiment which was
the canse of it. But this new life had not yet begun, and
she could form no definite itlea 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 naturally, 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 larare 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 lingers, 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 Arkadyevitch's face, as he went to them, died away. It
seemed to him that a smile might be offensive to them.
 ANNA KARENINA. 461
" O Thou who, from the beginning of the world, hast
created man, mule and female," continued the priest after
the ceremony of the rings, " and hast given him woman to
be his 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.
Au 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 cantious 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 beantiful Madame
Lvova just returned from abroad.
"■ Why is Mary in lilac at a wedding? It is almost mourn
ing," said Madame Korsunska'ia.
" With her complexion it's her only salvation," replied
Madame Drubetskala. "But why did they have the cere
mony in the evening? That savors of the merchant."
" It is pleasanter. I, too, was married in the evening,"
said Madame Korsunskaia, sighing, and recalling how bean
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 ahafers 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 be 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 Frelflina Nikolayeva his
intention to place the crown on Kitty's headdress to bring
her good luck.
462 ANNA KARENINA.
" There is no need of wearing a headdress," replied Frei-
lina Nikolayeva, deciding that if 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 becanse young couples were shamefaced.
'' Your brother may well be prond of his choice. She is
charming. You must envy him."
"The time has goue 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.
" What a shame that she has grown so ugly ! " said the
Countess Nordstone to Madame Lvova. " After all, he isn't
worth her little finger, is he?"
"I don't agree with you; I am very much pleased with
him, and not only becanse he is going to be my beau-frire"
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 Stepan 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 past
withi joy, and began a mysterious future, with hope and fear
 ANNA KAHEN/NA. 4ti3
in their hearts. Among the number she recalled her deal
Anna, who she had just heard was to be divorced ; she had
seen her enveloped in 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? Nu! Just hear
the deacon howl, ' Let her fear her husband ' ! "
" Are the singers from Tchndof ? " 1
" No ; from the synod."
"I have asked the servant about it. He says that her
husband is going to take her awa;' to his estate. Awfully
rich, they sav. That is why she is marrying him."
"They make a pretty pair."
" And you pretend to say, Marya Vasilievna, that they
doa'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. Dd^'ou see now? "
" What a sweet little creature the bride is ! — like a lamb
for the slanghter. 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-
i A monMtcry, famous for iu siugers.
 464 ANNA KARtiNINA.

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 after 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 trinmphant 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
danghters"; 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 Kitty 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
Shcherbatskv, iifliis 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 dr:mk 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 )oy 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 KARENINA. 465
last prayers and congratulated the young couple. Levin
looked at Kitty and thought he had never been her so beanti
ful ; it was the beanty 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 his wife's smiling lips,
gave her his arm, and went out of the church with a new
and strange feeling of being snddenly 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.
Vronskv 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 expunse
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 of 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
406 ANNA KARENlNA.

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 becanse 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
(tchiii), 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 Golennishchef looked down from the lofty heights of his
liberal profession upon Vronsky's profession and career.
Consequently, Vronsky, at this meeting with Golennishchef,
gave him that cold and hanghty 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.' Golennishchef 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,
the^ 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 ! Nit! 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."
•t
 ANNA KARENlNA. 407
And, according to the habit of Russians when they do
not wish to be understood by their servants, he said in
French, —
■ ' Do you know Madame Karenina ? We have been trav
elling together. I was just going to her room." And while
he was speaking he stndied 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 Vronsky, contin
uing to stndy his companion.
" Dal 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 toll ; 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
Karenina 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 beanty, 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 becanse, even in the pres
ence of a stranger, which might have cansed restraint, she
called Vronsky Aleksei, 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's happy and vivacious manner, knowing Aleksei Alek
468 ANNA KARENINA.

sandrovitch and Vronsky, it seemed to him that he under

stood, as she herself liid 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-hook," 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.
" I 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.
" Tak vot kak," 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 Two
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 Byzantinm," and he began a long
dissertation.
Vronsky at first was confused becanse he did not know
about the first part of the Two Origins, about which the
anthor 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 KARENINA. 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 Goleiiuishchef's 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 Golennishchef at the School of Pages, — a lad of
small stature, thin, nervous, agile, a good-hearted and good-
natured malchik, 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 Golennishchef, a man of good social standing, should put
himself down on the level of these common scribblers, and get
angry with them becanse 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 Golennishchefs keen and
feverish eves, and to look with ever-new love at his charming
friend, radiant with life and gayety.
It was hard for Golenoii-hchef 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. 8he 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, " Aleksii 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 jndge. But good jndges whom I
know say so."
470 ANNA KARENINA.

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 canse 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 sndden 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 Vronsky
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 they 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,
cansed her any pain at this time. Her baby, her danghter,
was so lovely and so filled her heart, that she seemed to have
only the danghter, and rarely thought of the son.
The joy of living cansed 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 KARENINA. 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. IShe 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 bce'de hers, and his only aim
seemed to be to anticipate her d- iire.-t. 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
V•ronsky,wearied her. notwithstanding the complete reali
meantime,
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 cansed 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 cansed Anna a most unex
pected and uncomfortable storm of despair. The enjoyment
472 ANNA KAR1SNINA.

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 becanse he had already seen them, but becanse 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 Vronsky 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 amatenr 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
readily to his illusion.
 ANNA KARENINA. 473
II is new role satisfied Vronsky for some time. He made
the acquaintance of an Italian painter, under whose instruc
tion he made some stndies from nature. At the same time,
he undertook to make investigations into Italian life during
the middle ages, which inspired him with such a lively
interest, that he began to wear a mediaeval hat, and throw bis
plaid over bis shoulders in the antique style, which was very
lx•coming to him.
" Do you like Mikhaflof's painting?' asked Vronsky one
morning of Golennishchef, who came in to see him, and at
the same time he handed him a Russian paper, containing
an article on this artist, who bad 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
genins.
" I know him," replied Golennishchef. " He certainly has
no lack of talent, but his theories are absolutely false. He
always shows the Ivanof-Stransz-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 only 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 danghter], or her," she added, with
a furtive glance at Vronsky, and pointing to the pretty
Italian nurse, who was just tnkin<r the baby into the garden.
474 ANNA KARENINA.
This Italian woman, whose mediaeval type of beanty Vronsky
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 he jealous, and was accordingly all the more kind
to her and her little boy. Vronsky looked out of the window,
and then catehing Anna's eyes, he turned to Golennishchef.
" Do you know this Mikhailof ?"
"I have met him. He is an original [lchudak], 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'emblie [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 anthorities exist, and who possess only
the sentiment of negation , in a word, savages. Mikhailof is
one of these. He is the son of a major-domo \ober-lak&] at
Moscow, and never had any education. He entered the
academy, and showed some promise. He was willing to be
tanght, 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 stndy
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
anthorities and secular traditions of the past ; and these
very traces of struggle -gave an inkling that these things
existed. But now no longer arc 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 KARJiNINA. 475
Golennishchef readily consented ; and as the artist's stndio
was situated in a remote quarter, they had a carriage called.
An hour later, the carriage, with Golennishchef, Vrousky,
and Anna, stopped in trout of a new and ugly house. A
woman came to receive them, and told them that Mikhailof
was at his stndio, only a few steps away. The visitors
sent in their cards, and begged to be admitted to see his
paintings.
X.
Mikhailop was at work as usual, when the cards of Count
Vrousky and Golennishchef were brought him. He had
been painting all the morning in his stndio ; but when he
reached his house, he became enraged with his wife becanse
of her failure to make terms with an exacting landlady.
"I have told you twenty times not to dispute with her.
Yon 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 fanlt.
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 stndy of a man snddenly 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 danghter 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 he bought his cigars, and instantly he gave his
design an energetic and sharp outline, and the sketch ceased
476 ANNA KARtiNMA.

to be something vague and dead, but became ammated and

alive. He langhed with delight. As he carefully finished
his design, the two cards were brought him.
" I will come instantly," he replied. Then he went back
to his wife.
" Nu, come, Sasha, don't be vexed," he said, with a smile
at ouce tender and timid. "You were wrong; so was I.
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 stndio, greatly wondering what the
visit of these stylish Russian gentlemen, 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 was begun, he attached
great value to the jndgment of the publie, and the expecta
tion of what this jndgment 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 stndy 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 Mikhailof had been greatly
modified by Golennishehef'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 vnlgarity of his long
face and the mixture of timidity and pretentious dignity which
it•expressed were not caleulated 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 stndio.
 ANNA KARENINA. 477

XI.
As soon as they entered, Mikhailof again glanced at his
guests. Vronsky's luce, with its rather prominent cheek
bones, instantly engraved itself m 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
imlierceptible indications. " That one [meaning Golennish-
chef] must be a Russian resident in Italy." Mikhailof
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 Mikhailof's intuition,
Russians of high rank, rich, and ignorant of art, like all
rich Russians who play the amatenr and the connoisseur.
"They have undoubtedly seen all the old galleries," he
thought, '•and now are visiting the stndios of the German
charlatans and the imbecile English prc-Raphaelites, and
brinar their tour to an end by doing me the honor of a visit."
He knew very well the fashion in which dilettante visited
the stndios 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 Talked up and down the stndio, leisurely examining
the mauikins and busts, while he was arranging his paint
ings.
Notwithstanding his prejndice and his private conviction
that rich and titled Russians were infallibly fools and imbe
ciles, he got out his stndies, raised his curtains, and with
eager hand unveiled his masterpiece.
"Here," he said, stepping back from the easel and beck
oning, to■ the siirhtseers, "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, Mikhailof looked
at his picture with a sort of indifference, as though he were
one of the spectators. In spite of him he expected a su
perior criticism, an infallible jndgment, 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 fanlts. How far would the politeh' hypocritr
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 Mikhailof 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 tchinovmk to the bottom of his soul, — who is ab
solutely blind to the meaning of his action. But it seems
to me " —
Mikhailof'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, becanse he had
such a low estimation of Golennishchef's artistic instinct,
filled him with joy. He snddenly conceived a liking for his
guest, and snddenly 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 cansed by the desire not
to say anything that might give offence, and, more than all,
 ANNA KARENlNA. 479
not to let any one hear those absurd remarks which are so
easily made in regard to art. Mikhailof 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 enlogy 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, Mikhailofs lace was radiant with joy.
"Da! And how that figure is painted! One could go
round it," said Golenuishchef, 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 Vronsky. " How alive
those figures in the background are ! What technique ! " he
added, turning to Golenuishchef, and allnding 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 Vronsky's last remark nettled
Mikhailof ; 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 Mikhailof, 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 Mikhailof gloomily.
480 ANNA KARENINA.
" In that case, excuse me if I look at it from my own
standpoint; your painting is so beantiful, 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 he 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 Mikhailof.
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 stndio. 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 stndy."
"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 cantiously 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 cansed by this stndy brought back some
what of MikhaTlof'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, Mikhaflof 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
signilicanee. 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 disposHiou of mind
necessary for the continuance of his work.
The foreshortening in the leg 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
medinm 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
palazzo, were very lively and gay. They talked about Mik
haflof and his paintings. The word talent was often heard
as they talked ; they meant by it not only 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, becanse he lacks intellectual cul
ture, a fanlt 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 waa. Da ! I must not fail to buy it," said Vronsky.
482 ANNA KARENINA.

XIII.
Mikhailop sold Vronsky the little picture, and also de-
cided to paint Anna's portrait. He came on the appointed
day and began his work, which even on the fifth sitting
struck Vronsky by its resemblance and by its very delicate
feeling for the beanty 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 Golennishchef, 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 Vronsky 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, Miklnulof was an entirely different man from what
he was at home and in his stndio. He showed himself
respectful almost to affectation, as though he were anxious
to avoid all intimacy 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 ;
Golennishchef never lost an opportunity of inculeating sound
theories of art : still Mikhaflof 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 cansed 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 KARENINA. 483
to tbe palazzo. Golennishchef 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 lite to painting,
but you have a mental culture which people like Mikhailof
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 envy him.
The two portraits of Anna might have shown him the dif
ference between him and Mikhailof. It was only after
Mikhailof'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 mediaeval
painting. He himself and Golennishchef and Anna espe
cially felt that it was good, becanse it resembled, more than
all that Mikhailof did, the works of the old masters.
Mikhailof, meantime, in spite of the pleasure which he
took in doing Anna's portrait, was glad to be freed from
Golennishchef's discourses and Vronsky's paintings. Of
course, it was impossible to prevent Vronsky from amusing
himself, he and all other dilettants having unfortunately the
right to paint as much as they please ; but he suffered in con
sequence of this amatenrish 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 fanlts, at first apparently trifling,
grew more and more grievous as he went on. He was like
Golennishchef, who willinglv nurtured himself on illusions,
and imagined that he was collecting materials, and storing
up ripened thoughts, becanse 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 KARENINA.

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 podazzo snddenly appeared
old and dirty ; the spots on the curtains assumed a sordid
aspect ; the cracks in the mosaics, the broken 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.

xrv.
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 langhed 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 KAKENINA. 485
fmd 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 eared for these wearisome minutiie
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 Agafya Mikhailovna, whom she re
moved from the charge of the provisions. The old cook
smiled gently as he received fantastic orders, impossible to
execute ; Agafya Mikhailovna shook her head pensively at
the new measures introduced by her young baruina. Levin
looked on, and thought her wonderfully charming when she
came to him. half langhing, half crying, to complain becanse
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 canliflower and hvas, 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 against 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 ^ee without pleasure, seemed to him
a new delight.
486 ANNA KARENINA.
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?"
"Yon'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 thon 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
 ANNA KAIUtNINA. 487
not confess
ever tender it,to felt
him,herself in the
so that theywrong, and was
l•elt that theirmore
love than
was
doubled.
Unhappily, these differences kept constantly rising, often
from canses as idle as they were unexpected, and becanse
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 canses 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 sa
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.
Thev 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 grandl"ather 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 ANNA KARENINA.

notions, and he began to fill in many 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 which
Russian agriculture suffered. The poverty of the country, in
his estimation, was not cansed 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 mot! 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.
" What 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
becanse 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 KAllUNINA. 489
" I am so happy here ! I never, never, want 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."
Cut the serious things were interrupted ; and, when Kuzma
came to announce tea, they separated as though they were
guiltv.
" 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 fanlt, 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, 1

3hall 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 fanlt 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 br<,derie aiightise, 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 jndging 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
(khozaika) , 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 Dollv, with whom she kept up a brisk correspondence.
Agafya Mikhailovna, with a cup of tea before her, was
cosilv ensconced at a small table beside her.
" You see, your wife [baruiiia] has asked me to sit here,"
saitl the old women, looking affectionately at Kitty.
These last words showed Levin that the domestic drama
which had been going on between Kitty and Agafva Mik
hailovna 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 husband an illiterate-looking envelope.
"I think it is from that woman — you know — of your
 ANNA KARENINA. 491
brother's — I have not read it. This is from Dolly — 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 Nikolayevna, his brother's discarded mistress, and
read it. This was already the second time that she had
written htm. 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 snddenly changed. Dolly, Tania, and all
were forgotten.
" When shall you 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 becanse my brother is dying," said Levin.
" What can you do?"—
" Whatever you 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 ANNA KARENINA.

lovna, seeing that a quarrel was imminent, put down hei

cup and went out. Kitty did not even notice it. Her
husband's tone wounded her all the more deeply becanse he
evidently did not believe what she said.
" 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 ? "
" Becanse 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 t If it were only becanse 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,
becanse " —
"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 ahmys 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 yon 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.
 ANNA KARENINA. 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 Marya Nikolayevna'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 becanse 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 cansed it to degenerate into an ill-kept grog-shop.
Everything about it produced an unpleasant effect 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 dining-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 by 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
becanse he 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 KAKENINA.
door he ran against Marya EJikolayevna, who had just heard
of his 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, anji 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 canght 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.
"£>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 cansed for him. He was quite prepared for all
this. But what he saw was absolutely different.
 ANNA KARENINA. 495
In a little, close, dingy, 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. Konstantin 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. -m
" 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 ; snddenly 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.
"Nit! good! I will have things put in order here. It is
496 ANNA KA RENINA.

dirty here and smells bad j 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
questiouingly.
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 canse 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 hand, 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 becanse 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 KARKNINA. 497
" I am afraid that you are not very comfortable here,"
coutinued 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
feel at ease in his presence. When he oame 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 uneleanliness 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.
It 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 meaim 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 Nikolav-
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 KARENINA.

The waiter who served the table d'h6te dinner several times
came with surly face when she rang ; but she gave her orders
with such gentle anthority, that he never failed to execute
them. Levin did not approve of all this commotion. He
did not see any reasou 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 Marya Nikolayevna and the
maid were in great perplexity over the sleeves of Nikola"fs
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.
"Z>ei/ 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 lying
flown 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, stond 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 "n his eyes as he looked at Kitty.
The docto • whom Levin found at the club was not the one
 ANNA KA RENINA. 499
who had vexed Nikolai. He came and carefully sounded
the sick man's lungs, raised his head, wrote a prescription,
and 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 andible : "... your Katya." 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 ; hut
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, becanse she
was near him.
" Turn him on his side," said she to her husband. " He
alwavs sleeps on that side. I cannot do it myself ; and I
should not like to leave it to the man. Can you lift him?"
she asked of Marva 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 Kittv quickly turned the pillows so as to make the
bed more comfortable. Nikolai kept one of his brother's hands
in bis, 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 KARENINA.

He did not call himself wise ; but he could not help feeling
that he was more intellectual than his wife and Agafya
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, Agafya Mikhaylovna, and
Katya, — 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 stndying 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 KARENINA. 501
solace or performing purely material acts: both of them
"instinctively, vitally, unreasoningly, 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 hud 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 liis wife.
But Kitty showed extraordinary animation. She had supper
brought, she herself unpacked the 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 away 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 KAR1SNINA.
almost crafty expression which came over her face when
sht! 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, mournfully. "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 KARENINA. 503

XX.
DEATII.
Communion 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 desperatety, would be all the more cruel.
He knew his brother and his brother's ideas ; knew that bis
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 y^e 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 snddenly 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 arid asked for a cutlet. Impossible as his
recovery was, Levin and Kitty spent this hour in a kind of
timid jov.
"Is he 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 KARENINA.

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! Thisjs 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 Nikolayevna
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.
" Becanse I am going," he repeated, as if he had an affec
tion for the phrase. " It 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. " Nn ! 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 KARENINA. 505
ing man's eyes were shut, but the muscles of his forehead
twitched from time to time us 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 panses ; "lay me down!" Then long silence
followed. "So!" said he snddenly, as though all had been
explained for him. " O Lord ! " and he sighed heavily.
Marya Nikolayevna felt of his feet. "They 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 far 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 he
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 owu ? 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 ;
hut 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 KARENINA.

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 bow 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 Levin saw that she
was suffering physically as well as morally, although she
would not confess it. The sadness cansed by the approach
of death was joined with other feelings. All knew that the
end was inevitable ; they saw the invalid almost dead, and
they felt that the sooner it came, the better it would be ; yet,
still, they 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, becanse he loved his brother
more deeply, and becanse 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
canse 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 KAR£NINA. f,07
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 cansed 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, —
bminer, weariness, thirst, — these sensations which once after
suffering or privation cansed him a certain pleasure, were now
only painful. He could only hope to be delivered from the
verv source of his woes, from his tortured bod}". Without
finding words to express this thought, he continued out of
habit to :isk 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 cansed 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 ever."
" 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
" What do you mean ? "
" This way," she .s'nd, plucking :it 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 Marya Nikolayevna, gave no sign of
life. But before the prayers were ended, he stretehed
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 cf
the dying man.
"It is all over," he said at last, about to go away ; then
snddenly Nicolai'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 antumn night
when his brother came to see hiiu. More than ever he felt
bis 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 becanse 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 KARENINA. 509

XXI.
As soon as Karenin learned from Betsy and Stepan Arka-
dyevitch that every one, and Anna 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 ritl 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 lirst days after Anna's departure, Aleksei
Aleksandrovitch kept up his andiences, 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
Koruei 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 mtroduced.
"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 Aleksandrovitch appeared to be cogitating, then
snddenly turning round, he sat down near the table ; lor 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 AXXA KARLMNA.

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, uot
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 Karenin, 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 g\mnasinm 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 Aleksandroviteh's marriage.
While Karenin was governor of one of the provinces,
Anna's annt, a very wealthy banana, 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 annt 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
fiavcie, 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 6uch
 AN.VA KARltNINA. 511
that he could invite great personages to dinner, ask favors of
them in the interests of lis puuuc 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 Hasilievitch Slindin was a simple, good, intelligent,
and well-bred man, and he seemed full of sympathy for
Karenin ; 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 Slindin, 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, " 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, Karenin did not think of them at all. 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 forgi la consign? " [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 KA NINA.

vitcb, my friend ! " and she pressed his hand between her
own, auu looked at him from the depths of her beantiful eyes.
Aleksei Aleksandroviteh, with a frown, arose, and, having
withdrawn bis hand, offered her a chair. " I beg you to sit
down. I am not receiving becanse 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. Aleksei 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 your
grief. It is great, but you must try to conquer it."
" I am wounded, I am killed, I am no longer a man," said
Aleksei 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 becanse I can find neither in
myself nor outside of mvself anv 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 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch,
albeit they 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 Aleksei Alek
sandrovitch ; " but I cannot help a feeling of shame for the
situation in which I am placed in the eyes 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, yon have no canse for shame," said the
countess, ecstatically raising her eyes.
Karenin frowned, and pressing his hands together, he
made his knuckles crack.
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 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, arising [he accented the word] from my
new, lonely situation. The servants, the governess, the ac
counts, — this is a slow fire devouring mc, and I 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."
Karenin wanted k, 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, my 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 ? "
Kareuin 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 ekonomla. 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 who
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 Aleksei Aleksandro-
vitch felt that she was praying.
Aleksei Aleksandroviteh 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,
and even found a secret pleasure in her words.
" I am very, very grateful to you. both for your words and
for your sympathy," he said, when she had ended her
prayer.
Again the countess pressed her friend's hand.
" Now I ain 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."
The 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 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch'a 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 lukewannness through her influence was
changed into a fervent and genuine sympathy for Christian
instruction, such as shortly al"ter 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 canse 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 becanse he held a complete and unquestioning faith,
judged in his own way, or that even in this world he might
look upon his safety as assured.
Nevertheless, the frivolity, the error, of these doctrmes
often struck him. He then felt how much deeper was the joy
cansed by the irresistible feeling that impelled him to grant
Anna's pardon than from that cansed by the constant thought
 ANNA KARENINA. 515
that Christ dwelt in his soul, and that by signing certain
papers he was following His will. But illusory as this
moral loltiness 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 plank 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 fanlts 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-Kndzhitsky, had not the Slav question existed.
510 ANNA KARENINA
But Karenin 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 Vronsky 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 Karenin'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 Karenina. 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 kommisaioner from the hotel."
The countess waited long before she had the courage to
sit dowu 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: —
" 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 KARENlNA. 517
do me the favor of letting me see him once more before I
depart. If I do not make direct application to Aleksft
Aleksandrovitch, it is becanse I do not wish to give this
generous-hearted man the pain of thinking of mc. Knowing
your friendship for him, I felt that you would understand
me ; will yon have Serozha sent to me here? or do you prefer
that I should come at an appointed hour? or would you let
me know how 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 Karenin'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 Aleksei 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 you.
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'ii 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 Marya Borisovna
was made minister of war, and the Princess Vatkovskaia,
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 KAMININA.

"Yon? Your place is already settled. You are to have

charge of the department of religions, and Kar^■nin 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 Kaienin?" 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! I beg of you not to speak ill of the Countess
Lidia."
" Is there any harm in her being in love with Karenin ? "
" Is Madame Karenina really here?"
"Not here at the Palace, but in Petersburg. I met her
yesterday with Aleksei Vronskv bras dessus, bras dessous
[arm in arm], on the Morskaia."
" (Test un homme qui n'a ]ms," — 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 pansing to take breath, lest he
should lose him, was giving a detailed explanation of a
financial scheme.
Aleksei 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
 ANNA KARENINA. 519
simple fact that Alekser Aleksandrovitch had reached his
limit, the fact remained that every one saw clearly that his
official race was run. He still hi ld 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 anii vain. But Aleksci 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 Panl. And Aleksci 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 by devotion to these projects
he served the Lord more faithfully than ever.
The Imperial Counsellor's very manifest impatience in no
way abashed Kareuin, but he stopped a moment as a priuce
of the Imperial family was passing, and his victim seized his
opportunity to escape.
Left to himself, Aleksei 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 canght 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 le»s.
" Ah ! Aleksci Aleksandrovitch ! " cried the little old man,
with a wicked light glowing in his eyes, as Karenin passed
him with a cold bow. " I have not yet congratulated you,"
and he pointed to the newly received ribbon.
520 4iVA^ KARliNINA.

" I thank you. This is a fine day ! " replied Aleksei Alek-
sandroviteh, 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 Ivunovna'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 elegiiut for her taste ; now she sought to render the
contrast endurable between her person and her toilet, aud in
Aleksei Aleksandrovitch's eyes she succeeded : he thought
her charming. This woman's sympathy 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, cansed him the keenest pleasure.
" How is our angel? " she asked, referring to Serozha.
" I cannot say that I am very well satisiied with him,"
replied Aleksei Aleksandroviteh, lifting his eyebrows and
opening his eyes. " Situikof 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 ; hnt having been called upon to look alter his son's
training, he spent a portion of his time in stndying works on
anthropology, pedagogy, and didactics, and he conceived a
plan of stndy 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 KARllNINA. 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 momeut's silence. I have a verv 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."
Aleksei Aleksandrovitch quivered at the recollection of his
wife ; but his face instantlv 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.
Wiien Aleksei enlered 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. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch
studied the unmberless 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 eves with some timidity.
'• My friend, yon never can see evil anvwhere."
" 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 KARENINA.
absolute sincerity, since she did not know why women could
be immoral, " but what I do not understand 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 learu every day your grandenr 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 have
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.
" 1f you ask my advice," she replied at length, " you wilI
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 anthoritv, I will replv
to her."
Aleksei Aleksandrovitch 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 jndge that which should
remain sacred to him. You would, therefore, easily under
stand that your husband's refusal is in the spirit of Christian
charity. I pray the Omnipotent to be merciful to you.
"Comptesse Lima."
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 Aleksandrovitch went home disturbed, and unable
to take up his ordinary occupations, or recover the peace of
a 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 fanlt?" 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
s0ul, the more he suffered, as though eternal salvation was
only a chimera.
Fortunately the temptation was not long, and soon
Aleksei Aleksandrovitch regained that serenity and eleva
tion of mind, by which he succeeded in putting away all that
he wished to forget.

XXVI.
" iV«, Kapitonuieh ? " 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 ANNA KARENWA.

no heed ; standing by the Swiss, he held him by the belt,

and guzed 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 Aleksei 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, sudor," 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 yon say ? Where ? "
"Kornei took it to papa ; it must be something beautiful."
" How big? as big as this?"
" Smaller, but beantiful."
"A little book?"
"No; its something. Run away, run away. Vasfli
Lnkitch 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 Lnkitch," 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
tchinoimik's success and his present. It seemed to Serozha
that every one ought to be happy this beantiful 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 danghter? Isn't it a long time since she
has becu to see us ? "
The Swiss's danghter was a ballet-dancer.
"How could she find time to come on woik-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 Lnkitch 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 Lnkitch," 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 stndied it, had
526 ANNA KARENINA.
not made any impression on bis 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 confused, He seized a moment when his teacher
was looking up some reference, to ask him, —
" Mikhail Ivanovitch, 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, stndied his
sparse beard, his eye-glasses far down on his nose, and got
into such a deep brown stndy, 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 docs 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, becanse she and he langhed 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
becanse she was a wicked woman, this seemed still more
 ANNA KAIiliNINA. 521
impossible to Serozha, becanse he loved her ; and he looked
for her and longed for her. This very day, in the Summer
garden, he had seen a lady in a lilac veil, and his heart heat
violently when he saw her take the same footpath where he
was walking ; but snddenly 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 Lnkitch.
Serozha jumped up from the chair, ran to kiss his father's
hand, and looked for some sign of pleasure becanse he had
received the decoration.
" Did you have a good walk?" asked Aleksei 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 Nddenka [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 you to understand
that. If you seek only the recompense, the work will seem
painful ; but if yon 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 unweleome
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 fmd wherein he had anything in common with these
exemplary little malchils.
" You understand me, I hope."
"Yes, papa," replied the lad, playing the part of this
imaginary little personage.
528 ANNA KARENINA.
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 snddenly 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. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch
son'clnded 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.
■ " Nu! how about these patriarchs?"
" 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 KARENINA. 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 fanlt 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 tanght 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 Lnkitch. 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 Lnkitch was in good humor,
and tanght 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 snddenly 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 stndy better?"
" No."
"Toys?"
"No. You must not guess. It is a secret; when it
comes to pass, I will tell you. Are you sure you don't
know? "
'• No ; you must tell me ! " said Vasili Lnkitch, smiling,
which was ran; 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 gayly.
Serozha believed that he heard his mother and felt her
530 AIWA KA RENINA.
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
Aleks<M Aleksandrovitch. Vronsky explained to him that he
considered the bond which united him to Madame Karenina
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 Aleksei to call upon Mad
ame Karenina. Vronsky spoke to Anna with the formal viti
(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 prejndices,
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."
 ANITA KARENINA. 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 thut he must sit in such a con
strained position, then his legs get cramps, he will feel draw n
to get awa}-. 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? lean
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 tletsy'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
entirely 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-davs, ca 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.
"Yon 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 becanse 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 jndge her — not at all; perhaps I 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
danghter* 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 you 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 fanlt,"
said Varia, with a timid smile.
" I am not angry with you, but I suffer doubly," said he,
growing more and more gloomy. " I suffer becanse 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 uselessuess
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 everywhere associated with that of Aleksei
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 RARENINA. 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 snddenly 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 Aleksei Alek-
sandrovitch 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 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch.
On the third day, having learned of Aleksei 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 becanse 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 canse 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 ANNA KARENINA.

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 I 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 bouse 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 ready 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 any 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.
 ANNA KARENINA. 535

" I come from Prince Skorodumof to see Sergei Aleksie-

vitch."
" He is not up yet," replied the Swiss, looking sharply at
the veiled lady.
Anna had never dreamed that she should be so troubled by
the sight of this house where she had lived nine years. 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}our ladyship1 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.
" 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.
" 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
i Vtuha prevusklwdUdstvo, literally, Your Ezccllcucy.
536 ANNA KARENINA,
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
eyes. For several seconds he looked with an inquiring face
at his mother, who stood motionless before him. Then he
snddenly 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 boy ! " she stammered, choking
with tcare, and throwing her arms around his plump body.
" Mamma ! " he whispered, cnddling 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 eyes. 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, ready
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 KARENlNA. 537
But you are sitting on my things." And Serozha langhed
heartily. She looked at him and smiled.
"Mamma! dushenka, golubtchika ! " [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
Serozba'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 ileparture, 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 Kapitonuiteh had
let her in. and that she was in the child's room ; they 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 KARMNINA.

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?
Yon've served here ten years, and had nothing but kind
ness from ! •her,You
from here butknow
you what
wouldpolicy
haveis,said,
you ' sly
Now,
dog.go What
away
you don't forget is to rob your master, and to carry off his
raccoon-skin shubas!"
"Soldier!" replied Kornei, scornfully, 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 Alekst•i Aleksandroviteh, as soon as he is up, will be
going to the nurserv."
" What a scrape ! what a scrape ! " said the nurse. "But,
Kornei Vasilyevitch, find some way to keep your master,
while I run to warn her, and get her out of the way. Wrhat
a scrap 3 ! "
When the nurse went into the child's room, Serozha was
telling his mother how Xadenka and he had fallen when
sliding down a hill of ice, and turned three somersanlts.
Anna was listening to the sound of her sou'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 Vaslli Lnkitch'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 \nyanya], my dear; I did not know that
you were in the house," said Anna, coming to herself.
" I don't live here ; I live with my danghter. I came to
give my best wishes to Serozha, Anna Arkadvevna, golub-
tchika."
The nurse snddenly 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
 AyXA KARENlNA. 539
his little, bare feet on the carpet. His old nurse's tender
ness towards his mother was delightful to him.
'•Mamma, 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" [proshchdi] ; but
the expression of her face said it, and he understood.
" My precious, precious Kutik 1 " 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.
" Dushenka, 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 KARENINA.
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 jealous}" on account of her son. She
hurriedly lowered her veil, and, quickening her step, almost
ran from the room. She had entirely 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 hack 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 smiled 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 her little
danghter's fresh cheeks and pretty shoulders, and letting her
catch hold of one of her fingers, screaming with delight, and
jumping ; she could not help taking her in her anus, and
 ANNA KARENINA. 641
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 danghter 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, jndged 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. One 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, which 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 snddenly remembered that he was the canse 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 J 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 KARENINA.

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 Yashviu,
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 hell 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 that, becanse my tastes are gener
ally bad," said Yashvin, biting the left side of his moustache.
After they had talked some little time, Yashvin, seeing
 ANNA KARENINA. 543
Vronsky look at his watch, asked Anna if she expected to
be in retersburg long. Then stooping with his huge back,
he picked up his kfrpi.
" 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 becanse 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 Aleksei's 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 Vronksy lingered behind.
" Are you going too? " she asked him.
" I am already 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.
" Aleksei, do you feel changed towards me?" she asked,
pressing his hand between her own. " Aleksei, 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.
"Nil ! 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 hini 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 aw ay
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 KARENINA.

Anna did not come back alone ; she brought with her her
old annt, the Princess Oblonskaia. 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 precantions 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 verv 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 luge."
" 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-mockins; 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 they rose
from the table, TushkieViteh went to engage a box, and
Yashvin went down-stairs to smoke with Vronsky ; after
 ANNA KARENINA. 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 beanty of
her face.
"Are you really going to the theatre?" he asked, trying
to avoid looking at her.
"Why do you ask mc in such a terrified way?" she
replied, hurt becanse 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."
'■ I5ut don't you know ? " — he began.
" Da, I don't want to knovv 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 beanty, and the dress which
was so becoming to her ; but this beanty and this elegance
were precisely what irritated him.
" You know very well that my 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 KARENINA.

" And I for my part beg you to explain why I should not
go-"
" Becanse it may canse you " — lIe was confused.
" I don't understand at all : Tnshkievitch, 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 anger. 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 beanty.
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
his 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 canse
of Vronsky's vexation, without attaching much importance
to it.
 ANNA KARENINA. 547
" I am not going," replied Vronsky, gloomily.
"I promised, bo I uiust go; good-bye! If you should
change your mind, take Krasinsky'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.
"7>a/ 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 ! TushkieVitch, Yashvin, the Princess
Varvara ! What am I to do? am I 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 Kxcellency" [ Vashe HiAtelstvo].
The lighted lobby was empty, with the exception of the
Kapelldiener and two valets holding shubas, and listening at
the d.>ors ; the sound of the orchestra could be heard care
fully accompanving 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,

reached Vronsky's cars. He could not hear the last part, for
the door had closed again ; but from the applanse which fol
lowed, he knew that the aria was ended.
The plandits still continued as he went into the anditorinm,
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 andience, boxes and
parquet, shouted, applanded, and rose to their feet. The
Ka.pelmeister, fixing his white necktie, came to meet him.
Vronsky went forward to the middle of the parquet, stopped
and looked through the andience, 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.
" llow unmartial you look," said Serpnkhovsko'i ; "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 resiretted to put these on again, when
I got home from abroad," said he, pointing to his epanlets.
" I mourn for my liberty."
Serpnkhovskoi had long since given up trying to push
 ANNA KARENINA. 549
Vronsky along in his military career, but he continued to
have a warm affcction fur him, and seemed especially friendly
towards him on this evening.
"It is too bad that you lost the first act."
Vronsky, while listening with one ear, examined the boxes
and the first tier of seats, with his opera-glass ; snddenly
Anna's head came into view, prond, and strikingly beantiful,
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
beantiful, rich shoulders, the radiance of her eyes and face,
— all brought her back to him as she had looked that evening
at the ball in Moscow. But her beanty no longer inspired
him with the same feelings; there was nothing mysterious
about them : s0, while more than ever under the sway of her
charm, he felt almost hurt to see her so beantiful. 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 langh 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 h?ad was bent towards her.
Kartasof went out without having bowed, and the box was
left empty.
Vronsky did not understand the meaning of this little
550 ANNA KARENINA.

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 beanty 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-
nins' name spoken, and noticed that the colonel hastened to
call to him alond, 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 Vronsky, 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
Karea ina. Her husband began to speak across to her from
his box, and Madame Kartasova made a scene about it.
 ANNA KARENINA. 551
They say she said something very offensive in a lond voice,
and went out."
" Count, your maman is calling you," said the young Prin
cess Sorokina, 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.
" What, I hope you are not going faire la cour a Madame
Kurfnina" [to pay court to Madame Karenina], she added,
when the young Princess Sorokina was out of hearing ; "eKe
fait sensation. On oublie la Putti 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.
"I 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, Aleksei ! " said his brother, " how abominable !
She is a silly thing, nothing more. I am going to see Mad
ame Karcnina. 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 lege, he saw
Stremof leaning on the box, talking with her.
'•There are no more tenors," he said; " la moule en est
brisi" [the mould is broken].
Vronsky bowed to her, and stopped to speak with Stremof.
" Yon came late, it seems to me, and you lost the best
aria," said Anna to Vronsky, in a way which seemed to him
scornful.
" I am not a very good jndge," he replied, looking at her
severely.
"Like Prince Yashvin," she said, smiling, "who thinks
Patti sings too loud."
552 ANNA KARENINA.

"Thank yon," she said, taking the programme that

Vronsky passed to her, in her liitle hand, encased in a long
glove ; and at the same moment her beantiful face quivered ;
she rose and went to the back of the box.
The last act had hardly begun, when Vronsky, seeing
Anna's box empty, rose, left the parquet, and went back to
the hotel.
Anna had also returned ; Vronsky 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 canse of it all!" she ex
claimed, rising, with tears of anger, 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
J " — she said, looking terrified.
He pitied her and protested his love, becanse 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 expressions 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 KARENINA. 553

PART VI.
I.
Darva Ai.eksandrovna 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 he 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 danghter
at this particular time indispensable ; they had also Varenka,
Kitty's Soden friend, and Sergei 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, Sergei
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 KAJiENINA.
children would have to pass out on their way to the field,
and as soon as he saw Varenka 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 Andrevna ! "
" What do you think of my Varenka? Is she not charm
ing?" said Kitty to her husband, lond enough to be heard
by Sergei Ivanovitch. "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-
iug, disturbed, becanse 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."

n.
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 Sucherbatskys,
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, anthor of this
new concoction, and feeling herself abused becanse 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 danghters. The conversation of the
three ladies fell upon Varenka, and Kitty, not wishing to be
 ANNA KA RENINA. 555
understood by Agafya Mikha•ilovna, spoke in French. She
hoped to learn that Sergei Ivanovitch 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
m the world, has no need to marrv for family or fortune ;
what he needs is some sweet, intelligent, loving young 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 sav to
it, Dolly?"
" Do not get so excited," resumed the princess.
"Mamma, how did papa ask you to marry him?" said
Kitty snddenly, prond, 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.
" You loved him before he spoke?"
" Certainly. 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 Ivanoviteh to be warned that
Varenka h:is 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 rGles 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 tete-ct-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 Shchcrluitskys.
Nevertheless, he approached Kitty with a smile.
"Nitl Are you coming to meet the children? I have
ordered the horses. Will yon 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 dislovalty 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.
" Nu! Agafya Mikhailovna, 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 Mikhai
lovna," said Kitty, divining her husband's intention. " And
you know that there is no more in the ice-house. As for
your spiced meat*, 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, barnina," replied Agafya
Mikhailovna, 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 KARENINA. 557

III.
Kittv 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 disquietnde 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."
" 1 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 Vdienka. Have you noticed them? What do you
think of it?" added she, turning towards her husband the
better to watch his face.
" I 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 hut 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
Serg«M 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, especially 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 I 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. 80 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 young girl's
presence cansed 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 Ivanoviteh was well aware that this objection related
only to that poetical rdle which he played in the eves 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 KARENINA. 559
charm of youth without childishness ; was accustomed to
society without wishmg to sliiue in it; possessed a lotty re
ligion based upon serious conviction. Moreover, she was
poor and without family, and would not, therefore, like Kitty,
impose upou 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. Had
not Varenka herself once said that it was only in Russia that
a man of fifty was considered old ; in France that daws la
force de Tage was considered the vigor of life? Then at
forty one must be unjenne homme [a young. man].
When he. canght 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
myself an ideal of the woman whom I should love, and whom
I should be very happy to call my — 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, Sergei Ivanovitch looked at Varenka as
she knelt on the grass within ten steps of him, defending a
mushroom from the attacks of Grisba, to save it for little
Masha.
" 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 Sergei Ivano
vitch. They walked a few steps in silence. Varenka, stifled
with emotion, suspected what Koznuishef had in mind. Snd
denly, though not really in the mood for talking, she said
almost involuntarily, —
" If you have not found any, it is becanse there are never
as many mushrooms in the woods as along the edge."
Koznuishef sighed without answering. It displeased him
becanse she spoke about trifles. They continued walking,
560 ANNA KARENINA.
going further and further from the children. The moment
was propitious for coming to an understanding ; and, as Sergei
Ivanoviteh 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 Vdrenka seemed like a couple of stndents 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. Stcpan
 ANNA KARENINA. 5G1
Arkadyeviteh and, perhaps, the old prince were expected
by the evening 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 avenue interrupted the
conversation.
"It's Stiva ! " exclaimed Levin. "And I see some one
beside him ; that must be papa. Grisha, run and meet
them."
But Levin was mistaken. Stepan Arkadyevitch'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
cansed ; 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.
"AW" 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 docs 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 KARENINA.
that his brother had no very high esteem for Stepan Arka-
dyevitch.
As for Vdrenka, 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 Mikhailovna standing on
the stairs, consulting over what wines to put on the table.
" Da! 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
Arkadyevitch.
" 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
plentv. 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.
 ANiVA KARENINA. 563
" Fve so many things to tell you about. Do }ou know —
Veslovsky has seen Anna? IShu lives only seventy versus
[4G.4I miles] away from here ; he is going there when he
leaves us, and I intend to go, too."
"Have you really been to Anna Arkadyevna'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 Vdsenka'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 jndge 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.
" AVhen 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 ma
enjoy the enchanting presence of this attractive stranger."
564 ANNA KARENINA.
Vdsenka, 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 m 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 oid 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 Levin, Vdsenka 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 young 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.
Vdsenka has a charming voice, and he has brought two new
ballads with him which he and Varvara Andrevna might sing
to us."
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 annoy-
ance, Kitty finished by smilingly asking him whether Ves
lovsky were its canse.
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 KARfiNINA. 565
is disgusting to me. Conld I be jealous and at the same
time believe in you ? But 1 am hurt, humiliated, that any one
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 attitnde at supper a little familiar, but
she dared not acknowledge it. '• You know you are the onlv
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 when 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 ! Oolubchik, 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 KARENINA.
■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 band.
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 Arkadyevitch, 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, canght at his gun
and game-pouch. He had on great boots, old trousers, a
short overcoat, and a 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 begrndge 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
 ANNA KARENINA. 567
they find any game? Would Laska be equal to Krak?
Should 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.
" Let me take 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.
" Nu! 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
Oblonskv's experienced eye, and as they were passing a
small marsh, he exclaimed, " Shall we not try this?"
"Oh. yes ; let's stop, Levin," begged Vasenka ; and Levin
could not well refuse.
568 ANNA KARENINA.

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 they 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 hannts 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 snddenly, while Levin, with a beating heart, fol
lowed cantiously.
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 mnd. 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, drily, 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, hut 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 in 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.
" Bon appetit — bonne conscience ! "
"This chicken goes to the right spot," said Vasenka, in
French, serenely devouring his second.
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 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."
" 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, langhing 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 ou
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 cry of a woodcock.
"Pif, paf!"
It was Vasenka, firing at some ducks. Half a dozen
woodcock rose, one after the other, and OMonsky seized
the opportunity to hit two of them. Levin was less fortu
nate. Stepan Arkadyevitch picked up his game with an air
570 ANNA KARENINA.

of satisfaction, and went off to the left, whistling to his

dog, while Levin reloaded his gun, leaving Veslovsky to
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 every 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 rlu'ite 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 they treat us?"
" Probablv in honor of some festival. Come ; it will amuse
you."
" Allons! e'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 canght 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 rea<hed 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 Arkadyevitch, walking heavily,
 ANNA KARENINA. 571
and covered with perspiration, but with an overflowing
game-bag.
" What a marsh ! " exclaimed he. " Veslovsky must have
bored you. It's impossible to hunt in couples with a dog,"
added he, to soften the effect of his trinmph.

XI.
Levin and Oblonsky found Veslovsky already established
at the izba where tliey had engaged supper. IIc was sitting
on a bench, and clutching it with both hands, while a soldier,
the brother of the hostess, drew off his mnddy boots.
" I've just come," said he, with his contagious langh,
"//.■i out He. charmants! Imagine it; after they had made
me eat and drink, they refused to take any pay. Anii what
bread! what n,dka! delirieux!"
"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
izba, which their boots and their dogs' paws had covered
with black mnd ; and they supped with an appetite only
known when hunting ; 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
Vi'isenka's raptures over the hospitality of the peasants, the
pleasant odor of the hay, and the intelligence of the dogs,
which lay at their feet, kept them awake.
Oblonsky gave an account of a hunt at which he had been
present the year before, at the place of Malt bus, a railroad
speculator worth millions.
He described the immense game preserves, which Malthus
owned in the department of Tver, the dog-carts, and how-
wagons 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
accepts their invitations for good-fellowship's sake ; but many
say Oblonsky is visiting" —
572 ANNA KARENINA.

" You arc mistaken," said Oblonsky. " If I visit them,

it is becanse 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 stndies?"
" 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 disproportionate to the labor, it is dishon
est. These fortunes are scandalous. Le roi est mart! rive
le roi! 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."
"Nul Why do you make, say, five thousand rubles where,
with more work, our host, the muzhik here, makes fifty?
and why shouldn't Malthas 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, becanse 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
mv fortune."
" What a paradox! "
 ANNA KARENINA. 573

"Yea ; that savors of sophistry," added Vcslovsky. "Hello !

kkozydin," shouted he to a muzhik who just then opened the
door, making it creak on 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! What 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. Yon'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?
" 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 Oblonsky, 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.
"Why so?"
574 ANNA KARENINA.

" Becanse 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. (Ja ve tire pas a conxequence.
My wife would not object greatly to it, and the main thing is
to respect 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.
" Channante ! I discovered her, a genuine Gretchen," added
he, with the air of a connoissenr. 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 sou 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 by 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 lie was falling asleep he heard his companions come in,
and opened his eyes an instant to see them, illumined by the
moo'i, through the half-open door.
"To-morrow at sunrise, gentlemen," he said, and fell
asleep.
XII.
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 hall in the hay. stretched her hind legs lazily, before
she could make up her mind to follow her master. Levin
 ANNA KARfiNINA. 575

put on his boots, took his gun, and cantiously went out.
The coachmen were sleeping near the carriages, the horses
were asleep ; it was scarcely daylight.
"You arc 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.
"I'm going out to shoot, Titushka [anntie]. 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 sndden
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, — "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 KAnENINA.
before a little hill. Her short legs prevented her from see
ing, but her instinct did not deceive her. fShe could scarcely
breathe, in the joy of her anticipation ; she stood motion
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.
" Nu ! 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 nndge 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 vnltures 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 KARENINA. 577

XIII.
The superstition of hunters, that if the first shot brings
down bird or beast, the held will be good, was justified.
Tired and hungry, but delighted, Levin returned about
ten o'clock, after a run of thirty vcrsts, 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 Arkadyeviteh's envy
was delightful to Levin. To crown his happiness, he found
a letter from Kitty.
" I am perfectly well and happy," she wrote ; " and if you
fear lest I shall not be sufficiently cared for, it will re-assure
you 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 pdlfa so visibly in his
mind's eye that when he returned he smelled the odor and
tasted them in his mouth ; but they had all disappeared, as
had also the chicken and the meat, and Laska was cracking
the bones.
578 ANNA KARENINA.

" Nu! talk of appetites," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, 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 for me!"
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
becanse he had shown his disappointment so plainly and
before a stranger, and he began to langh 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 becanse he no longer felt that animosity which he bad
felt at home towards Vasenka Veslovsky ; but, on the other
hand, really conceived a friendship for him.

XIV.
About ten oelock 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?"
 ANNA KARENINA. 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? Splendid 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 danghter settled at Moscow at the
time of her confinement. Nothing annoyed 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 prejndices, 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" —
"Dal In that case" —
" Let Kitty do as she pleases about it."
" It is impossible to speak with Kitty about it. Do you
580 ANNA KARtNINA.
think I want to frighten her? Only this spring Natali Golit-
siiin died in confinement — her second child."
'• I shall do as yon 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 goon," thought he, now and then casting
a glance towards Vasenka, who was bending over Kitty, with
a flattering smile, and looking at his wile's disturbed and
blushing face. There was something improper in Veslovsky's
attitnde, his smile, his eyes. So, too, Kitty's action and
appearance seemed to him unbecoming, and again the light
flashed in his eyes. And again, as happened two days before,
he felt himself snddenly, 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 cansed 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.
"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 KARENINA. 581
This guilty confusion confirmed h is suspicion of his wife's
hypocrisy. " I am going to apeak 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 imprndently
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 muzhik 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 yon see that I am not to blame ? I wanted yesterday

to show such a manner, but these people — Why did he
come ? IIow 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 Dolly. Darya Aleksandrovna 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 nanghty little girl," she said to Levin ; " where does she
get this abominable disposition?"
" Dal 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 onHr 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 yon? — 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. I1 fait la cour a une jeune et julie 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, 'Je
crois que Veslovsky fait un petit brin de cour a Kitty ' " [I
guess Veslovsky is^trving 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."
"Not 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 taranlds. 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 covr 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 mnddy," replied Vasenka, putting up one
leg ou 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 Vasenka's timidity in the presence of the
khozy&in [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 snddenlv
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 an\thing 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 mc " —
" I will not explain, and you will be wise not to question
me," Levin said slowly, trving 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. Vdsenka 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 1 1 is
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. " AVhat else could he do?" he thought.
"There is no sense in such conduct! It is perfectly
absurd ! " cried Ntcpan 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 e'est ridicule, metis e'ext du dernier ridicule of this young
 ANNA KARENINA. 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 }"oung 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 puis e'est ridicule."
"But it was insulting to me and extremely disagreeable.
I am not to blame towards him, and I can't endure him."
' ' JVa / I did not expect this of you. On pent e'tre julonx,
mais d ce point e'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 Varenka 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 jjaitcrs, seated on the straw!
" If only a carriage had been given him ! But no ! Then
I hear a shout : ; 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 KARJSNINA.

XVI.
Darva Aleksandrovna fulfilled her intentions, and went
to see Anna. It made her sister very angry, and 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 the 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 family, 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 twenty 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 were 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,
atone, afforded her an unusual opportunity for reflecting on
her past life, and for considering its different aspects.
 ANNA KARENINA. 587
First ahe 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 danghter would need a shnba 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, becanse, 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 danghter
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 danghter, 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 becanse 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 shnddered 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 KAR2NINA.
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 Hearing 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 pansed 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 becanse I need him — that is all. I had some
beanty 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 KARISNINA. 589
however, she could remember her former power to please.
She thought of the attentions of Sergei Ivanovitch, who
had ouce loved her, and the devotion shown by good
Turovtsuin, 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 beantiful, 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 langh 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 yon'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, hi! 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 Vronsky in jockey costume, Anna, Veslovsky, and
590 ANNA KARENINA.
a mounted groom ; the Princess Varvara and Sviazhsky fol
lowed in a carriage. They hnd all come out to see the oper
ation of a new-fashioned steam reaper.
When 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, becanse 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. Vasenka 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 up in a corner of the old carriage, and uttering
a cry of joy, she put her cob to a gallop, leaped lightly off
the horse without any one's aid when she saw that Dolly 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 annt, 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 KARENINA. 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 train of her riding
habit, she stumbled.
There was a cool exchange of greetings between Darya
Aleksandrovna and the princess ; 8viazhsky 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 brilliaat 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 beanty
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 Hp, with its full, rich sounds, and even the
quiet, friendly manner in which she replied to Veslovsky
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 Dolly,
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 pramenazlie,
but ho can't show forty versts at a heat," he decided, inter
nally, by way of consolation."
The muzhiks had left their tclyiqa, 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 KARllNINA.

" Glian-ka, look! Is that a woman in trousers?" asked

another, pointing at Veslovsky sitting on the side-saddle.
" Nyi, 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 beanty which she read in her friend's eyes
checked her, —
" You are stndying 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 ! " Darya Alexandrovna answered, more
coldly than she wished. " I am glad for you ; but why have
you not written me ? "
"Becanse 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 Vdsenka 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 KARENINA. 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 you and always have loved }0U.
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 Aleksei
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 [khozydtstvo]. Ah, his is a rich nature !
Whatever 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 \khozydin"] , 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; e'est une prtitesse [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 beantiful ! " cried Dolly with involuntary surprise
at the sight of a stately house ornamented with a colonnade,
and surrounded by trees a century old.
"Isn't it? And the view from the second story is
magnificent."
They came into the dvor (court) paved with small stones
594 ANNA KARENINA.

and ornamented with flower-beds, which two workmen were

at this moment surrounding with roughly trimmed stone.
They stopped under a porte-cochere.
" 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, " Iu the balcony cham
ber?"
" Oh no, that is too far off. In the corner chamber. We
shall be nearer one another. Xu ! come, come," said she,
giving her favorite horse some sugar that the lackey had
brought.
" 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 plein lespoches" [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, wilting 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 by. 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.
" Nu, dushenka! how glad I am to see you here, my dear
friend," said Anna again, seating herself in her riding
habit (amazonka) before her sister-in-law. "Tell me about
 ANNA KARENINA. 595
yonr family. I saw Stiva just an instant, but he could not
tell me anything about the children. How is my Uubimitsa
[darling] Tania? She must be a great girl ! "
Yes, very large," answered Dolly, astonished at finding
herself talking so cooly 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.
" Dal but we are so well" — began Dolly 1n confusion.
" Dal I am so happy, I talk nonsense ; only, dushenku, 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.
Dollv, when left alone, examined her chamber with the
eyes of a genuine khozydika. 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 bron7.es 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 KARENINA.
Fortunately, the girl was called away by her mistress,
and, to Dolly's great satisfaction, her old acquaintance,
Anunshka, took her place.
Annushka, overjoyed at seeing Darya Aleksandrovna again■
prattled on to her heart's content about her dear banana,
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 Arkadyevna, and love her more
than the whole world. It's not my place to jndge her, and
she seems to loVe " —
" Please have these washed," said Darya Aleksandrovna.
"I will obey. We have two women especially for the
lanndry, 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.
" Nit! but how is your danghter?" asked Dolly.
"Ani? very 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 attnehed to her. we have to keep her."
" But hew 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 ef the child's name, weren't you? It is the great
grief of Aleksei that she hasn't any name ; that is, she is
Knrenina," and she half-closed her eyes. " We will talk
again about all that ; come, and I'll show her to you. Elle
est tres gentilk; she is already beginning to walk."
 ANNA KARENlNA. 597

The nursery, a high, spacious, and well-lighted room, was

fitted up with the same sumptnousness 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, beantiful, 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 beantiful 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 energeticallv 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, vnlgar
maid. Was it becanse they could not Bnd 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.
"Oh, no! You know that I have seen Serozha again,"
598 ANNA KARENINA.
said she, looking fixedly before her, as if she sought for
something faraway. "You can't believe — but I aui 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 yon
will meet here," she began. " First, the Princess Varvara.
You know her, and I know your opinion and Stiva's. Stiva
says her whole aim of life consists in proving her pre-eminence
over Aunt Katerina Pavlovua. 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 an chaperon was indispensable. You don't know
how difficult my position was, there in Petersburg ! Here I
am very comfortable and happy. Nit, 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 Aleksei for something. You see, with his
fortune, now, as we live in the country, Aleksei can gain a
wide influence. Then, TushkieVitch ; you have met him ; he
was at Betsy's ; now they sent him off, and he came to visit
us. As Aleksei 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 tr&s gentil et naif"
[he's very nice and very unaffected], she added, smiling.
" I have to entertain all these people, becanse men need
amusement, and Aleksei needs society ; and we have to have
it lively and gay, else Aleksei 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 bis knife. Then the architect, — une petite cour" [a
little court J.
 ANNA KARENINA. 599

XX.
" Nu! here we have Dolly, Princess, whom you wished so
much to see," said Anna to the Princess 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 immediately began to explain that she
had come to live with Anna becanse she loved her more than
her sister, Katerina Pavlovna, and becanse, 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 solitnde ; 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 jndge them ; it is not for us. It was just
so with Birinzovsky and Madame Avenyeva, and then
Vasiliyef 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 e'est un inteWieur si joli, si
comme il faut. Tout-a-fait & I'anglaise. On se r&unit le
matin au breakfast etprris on se sipare. [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 ? Q'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 lawn tennis. I'll take
one side with you again, Anna Arkadyevna," he said with
his gay, contagious smile.
600 ANNA KARENINA.
" No, it is too warm ; suppose we go into the park, and
take Darya Aleksandrovna out in the boat to show hur the
landscape," said Vronsky.
Veslovsky and TushkieVitch went to get the boat ready,
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.
Abstract!y, 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 Anua 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. Vronsky was not congenial to her at any time ;
she thought him prond, and could see no reason except his
wealth to justify his hanghtiness. 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 beanty 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 ! " Aud
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?"
 ^iViV^l KARENINA. 601
" Yes. — Shall we not? " she said, turning to Sviazhsky ;
" mais il ne faut pas laisser le pauvre Veslovsky et Tuskii-
vitch se morfondre ld, dans le bateau ! [but not leave these
gentlemen to wait in vaiu 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 whieb 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."
" C'est devenu tellement commun les icoles " [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 antumn, for the inside is fmished now,"
said Anna.
" What 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; "da, 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
be:iun 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 building was almost finished, on the upper floors
602 ANNA KARENINA.

scarcely arything was done. 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.
Dolly 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 uew 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 connoissenr in horses," she
answered, seeing by Vronsky's face that he bad 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 bead : " He is going to ask me to
come and visit them with my children, or to get society fur
Anna when she comes to Moscow. Or is he going to speak
of Vusenka Veslovsky and his attentions to Anna j or of
 ANNA KARENINA. 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 panse ; " 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 becanse you approve of our position ;
it is becanse you love Anna, and knowing the cruelty of her
position, want to help her. Am I right?"
" Yes," said Darya Aleksandrovna, shutting up her sun
shade, " but" —
" No one could feel more deeply than I do the cruel diffi
culties of our lili•," 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 canse of her
trouble, and therefore I feel it."
" Certainly ; but aren't you exaggerating difficulties ? " said
Dolly, sincerely affected bv 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 easilv, and perhaps you alwavs
will."
" I see in Anna that she is happy, perfectly happy, and
ehe has hud 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. Nu! 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 KARENINA.

we did right or wrong is a bard question ; but the die is

cast," he said, changing from Russian to French, " and we
are joined for life ; 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 ber afflictions and sufferings, does not see and will not
see. It is natural ; but I cannot help seeing. My danghter,
according to the law, is not my danghter, but Karelin'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 prond 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
wile 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
has for her. and so he exacts this letter from her. I under
stand that it is painful to her. She ought to lie above these
excessive sensibilities ; her happiness is involved, as well
as her children's. But the reasons are so imperative, that
 ANNA KARENINA. 605
she must passer pardessus toutes ces finesses de sentiment. H
va du bonheur et de Vexistence d'Anva, et de ces enfants. I
don't speak about myself, though it is painful, very painful,
to me. And this is the reason I 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 Karenin.
" 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.
" Dinner is 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
knotbrushed
of ribbon at her throat, put a bit of lace in her hair,
and herself•.
" It is all I could do," she said, langhingly, 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. '•Aleksei 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
TnskieVitch in offering his arm to the Princess Varvara, and
TuskieVitch 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, even in a
600 ANNA KARENINA.

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.
Oidy as far as conversation went was Anna khozydika,
and thus conversation was by no means easy among guests
belonging to such different spheres of life. But she had a
word for every one, inclnding 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 Tuskie-
vitch had been left alone in the boat, and that led Tusku5-
viteh to speak of the recent yacht-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 patrou-
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 Aleksandrovna. " 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 beantiful
white hands and tried to show her. She apparently saw
that she did not make herself very clear, but knowing that
she spoke pleasantly and that her hands were beantiful, she
continued her explanations.
" Better say a pen-knife ! " said Veslovsky, jestingly, noi
Caking his eyes from her. Anna smiled, but she did not reply.
 ANNA KARENINA. 607
"Am I not right, Karl, that they are like scissors?" she
said, appealing to the director.
•' O/t, ja " [Oh, yes] , replied the German. " Es ist ein gam
einfaches Dimj" [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 camplicirt, macht zu viel klopots" [Too complicated,
makes too much bother], he said in conclusion.
" Wunscht man Dochots, so hat man aucli klopots" [If one
wants money, he must have bother], said Vasenka Veslovsky,
making sport of the German. "J'adore I'allemand " [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 un
petit pen 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 KARENINA.

" I, on the contrary," said Vronsky, evidently somewhat

piqued,
has been" amdonevery
me,sensible,
thanks astoyou see, of
^Nikolai■ the honor inwhich
lvanovitch, my
appointment as honorary justice of the peace. The duty of
jndging 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."
Vronsky'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 [popehhitel], jndge, town
counselman, 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 twenty, 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 attentively, 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
Borne Petersburg acquaintances, so as to change the subject ;
and remembering what Vronsky had told her in the gtfrden
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 KARENINA. 009
After dinner they went out upon the terrace. A game of
lawn tenuis was arranged. Dolly at lirst attempted to play,
but soon gave it up, and went to sit witn the Princess Var-
vara, who was watching the others. Vrousky 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 never ceased. Like the other men he took on" his coat
and played in his shirt-sleeves, and his tall, well-shaped fig
ure and his rnddy, 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 gay. 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.
Jdst as she was feeling ready to go to bed, the door opened,
and Anna came in, with a white dressing-gown on.
All day, every 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 KARENINA.

" Oh, no ; but you know this is not pardonable."

" Yes, yes," said Anua, turning towards the open window.
" But I 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 Aleksei Kirillovitch.
" With Aleksei, 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 may live alone without him,
absolutely alone, — but I see that this may 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.
Dal what can I say about it?" she smiled. "But what
did he talk with you about?"
'• 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 KARMNINA. 611
cam©
haps }to0u see meher.
know in Petersburg waslaBetsy
Au fond e'est J•emmeTverskaVa. Per
la plus depravie
qni existe [At heart she is the wickedest woman in the world] ;
she deceived her husband — she and this Tuskievitch; but
she told me that she did not wish to know me, becanse my
position was illegal ! Don't think that I compare — I know
you, dtishenka moya [my dear soul]. But I could not help
remembering it. Nu! What did he say ?"
" He 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 danghter 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?"
"Nu! to make his children legitimate, to give them a name."
" What children r " 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? "
" Becanse I will not have any more ; " and in spite of her
emotion, Anna smiled at the expression of astonishment, of
naiue curiosity and honor depicted on Dolly's face. "After
my illness the doctor told me" —
"It is impossible," exclaimed Dolly, 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.
'• Why? 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 KARENINA.

" Dal" she thought, " I have not tried to keep Stiva ; hut
has she who took iniu from tue kept, Liiu either? She was
young and pretty, but that did not 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 ou.
" 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 Aleksaudrovna
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 snddenly 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 clond 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 snddenly 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 KAMiNlNA. 613

XXIV.
" One more reason for legalizing your position, if pos
sible."
" Yes, ifpossible," 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."
" Nit! 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 faix des jiassions [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 Aleksei. Rut he is
a mere boy and entirely in my hands. You understand, I do
as I please with him; just as you do with tirisha. —■
Dolly ! [she snddenlv changed the conversation] yon 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 Aleksei,
and that I don't think about that. I 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 ; — becanse the thought
of it makes me mad," she repeated. " When I think of it,
I can only quiet myself with morphine. But verv 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
svmpathetic 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 KARENINA.

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 Aleksei."
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 KARENINA. 615
I am glad you like Dolly," she said, simply.
" Dal I'veknown her for a long time. She's an excellent
woman, mais excessivement terre a terre [though exceedingly
commoni>laee]. 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 kaftan 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 parte cochbre.
Darya Aleksandrovna took a cold farewell of the Princess
Varvara and the gentlemen. The day that they had passed
together madu them all see clearly that they had no interests
in common, 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 lter 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 learu how the
servants were impressed, Filipp, the coachman, snddenly
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? Onlv a bite. Now-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 thev?" 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 gnve 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.
Vronskv and Anna passed the rest of the summer and part
of the antumn 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 solitnde of antumn, 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
Vronsky, and take the place of all that he had given up fur
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 landed proprietor which he was trying
 ANNA KAR&MXA. 617
was decidedly to his taste, not only becanse he saw that it
was from such men that the true Russian aristocracy was
constituted, but becanse 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
make 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,
Sviazhsky, 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
antumnal 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.
Cut 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
w hen 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 KARENINA.
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 uiy
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 ; bnt 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 eighty rubles. And these
eighty 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, becanse 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
iii a dream ; but marriage had tanght Levin patience, and he
tr'ed not to be exasperated. He also patiently tried to
understand the electoral maneeuvres, which were so exciting
to the honest and estimable men around him, and he did his
best 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 fortu^f in the most honest way in
the world, and whose antiquated ideas did not suit present
 ANNA KARENINA. 619
needs. As marshal, he handled large sums ef 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 nobility 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, tumultnously and eagerly, and even enthusiastically,
followed him, and surrounded him while he was putting on
his skuba, 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 Marva 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 body to the
cathedral (xobdr).
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 KARENINA.

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 predvodtiel arose, and with
tears in his eyes thanked the nobility for their trust. The
nobles londly congratulated him, and shook hands with him.
But at this time one noble (dvoridnin) belonging to Sergei
Ivanoviteh'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 goverumentyrerf-
voditel to give an account of his expenditures, and that the
superflnous delicacy of that member of the Commission de
prived him of this pleasant recreation. Then the members
of the Commission resigned, and Sergei Iranovitch 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,
becanse when he asked Sergei Ivanovitch whether Suetkof
were suspected of peculation, he replied: "Not at all;
he's a very 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 Seldznevskoe, 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, nnd 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 epanlettes 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.
Stepan 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, 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. " 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.
"O sancta simplicitas!" replied 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 snddenly a great tumult and
shouting was heard in the large hall. Levin heard the words
"Law — anthority —■jndgment — who — for what," spoken
on every side ; and with the rest he hurried into the large
622 ANNA KARENINA.
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 ^rechwMei, Sviazh-
iky, and other party leaders were angrily discussing.

XXVIII.
Lev™ 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 clanse of the law, and the words
" nakhodivshagosa pod sh/Mstviem."
The crowd parted to let Sergei Ivanovitch get to the table.
Sergei Ivanoviteh, after waiting till the sarcastic gentleman
was done speaking, said that it seemed to him that it would
be a better way U, 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
pomyishchik (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 londer and
londer. 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 KARENINA. 623
votes it was necessary to give Flerof his vote ; and to decide
upon the legality of Flerofs 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
brdtels [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 Ivanoviteh 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, an<l 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 KARENINA.

and still more confused, he retired to the back of the hall.

The election was very close, but the new party won the day.
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 waa say
ing something. Approaching, Levin heard him making a
farewell speech to his constituents, whom he had served for
twenty years. It was an affecting farewell, and snddenly 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 be 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 khozydika, a tall, benevolent
lady in her lace cap and Turkish shawl, who was caressing her
lovely grand-danghter. The youngest son, a boy in the
sixth class of the gymnasinm, 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.
Thb 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 KARENINA. 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 Ivanovitch, Stepan
Arkadyevitch, Sviazhsky, and others, becanse he had just
canght 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 becanse 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 interest 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 Ivanitch."
" Nu! How goes your estate [kliozydtstvo^?"
" Dal 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'itat ? 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 ; 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 dvorianxtvo " [noblesse].
" Certainly new, but not dvorianstvo. They are land
626 ANNA KARENINA.

holders, but we are the pomytshchiks. But they are trying

to get the power as though they were nobles."
"Then you think it an 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 be suppressed in one year. Nu! but how goes your
khoydistvo ? "
" Da! not very brilliant; only five per cent."
" But yon 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? Krom habit, I suppose," replied the pom-
ytehehik, 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 delnded myself as to any profits of my labor, for
some time past. But oue feels a sort of obligation to the
earth."
" Da veil 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
Vasilve\-itch, 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 exhanst 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 KARENINA. 027

«' You are married, I think? "

" Yes," replied Levin, with prond satisfaction. "/)« / it is
wonderful ! We live without making uuy profit, obliged, like
ancient vestals, to wateh some holy lire."
The old gentleman smiled under his white moustache.
".Some people, like our friend Sviazhsky and Count
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! becanse we guard the sacred fire, as you say.
It is not the business of the dvoriaimtvo. 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."
" 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 pnmi/fahehik 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 SergeM Ivanovitch, and
was looking straight at Levin as he came along.
" Delighted ! " said he, offering his hand to Levin. " We
met at the Princess Sheherbatskaia'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. Rut 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 rndeness.
628 ANNA KARENINA.

" How are you getting on? " he asked, turning to Sviazh
sky and Vronsky.
" Snctkof 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 eyes, 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."
" Becanse 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 rndeness.
"I do not think so; ou 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 miller 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 KARENINA. 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 oppouent — 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 gvardi,
Mikhail Stepanovitch Snetkof, had a decided majority, and
when he came in, the nobles pressed around him, congratu
lating him.
" Nu! 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, arsd 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 silting a throng of lawyers,
professors of the gymnasinms, 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
030 ANNA KARENINA.
listened and tried to understand what it all meant, and
when he found it was impossible, he felt dull ; and as he saw
the excitement and anger on all faces, he felt still more sad.
He made up his mind to leave, and went down-stairs. As
he went down, trving to find the number of his shuba, the
secretary again discovered him.
" Excuse me, Konstantin Dmitriyevitch, 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 pomyishchiks.
" I cannot endure it," said one of the red-faced pom-
yishchiks.
Immediately behind the pomyeshclu'k was the old govern
ment pred coditel. 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 Itrevos-
khoditelstvo].
" Oospodi!" [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 becanse it was tiresome
in the country, and it was necessary for him to assert his in
dependence before Anna, and also becanse he wished to
 ANNA KARENINA. 631
render a service to Sviazhsky in return for similar favors
shown him, and last and principally, becanse 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
sndden 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 prond. 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
things to everybody whom he met, was disposed to pay him
homage, and to attribute to him Nevyedovsky'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 trinmph of his jockey. Vron-
sky sat at the head of the table, but he placed the yonng
governor at his right. Vronsky saw that all looked upon him
as the khozydin 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 confnsed in his presence, and whom
he tried mettre d, son aise (to put at his ease.) At his left he
placed Nevvedovsky, 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 Nevvedovsky, he could not call it.
a failure, since he had the delight of seeing his party trinmph.
During dinner he repeated in a most comical way the old
predvoditel's affecting speech, and advised the new incumbent
 632 ANNA KARENINA.

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 exclnded from the halls
given by the late predvoditel and advised the new predvoditel
to give a ball with lackeys in short clothes. Stepan Arkadye-
vitch was also gay, becanse the day had passed so well and
becanse everybody was satisfied, and after dinner, when
despatches were being sent off in all directions, announcing
the result of the elections, he sent one to Darya Aleksan-
drovna, " to please them all," as he confided to his neigh-
bora. 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 tiUgraphe (make the telegraph play)
after a hearty 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
beanty. 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 significant 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 lie
full of reproaches becanse 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 KARENINA. 538
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 danghter, 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.
Rkfore 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 way that she
interpreted the look in her solitnde.
" 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, and resolved that when he or Stiva spoke about it again,
she would no longer resist him on this point, as she had al
ways 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 KARENINA.

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 Vronsky, 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 canse 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 danghter had
not been dangerously sick. Anna now acknowledged to
herself that he would miss his liberty, perhaps, ami fmd 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 coch&re. 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
danghter 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 KARENINA. 635
"How is Ani?" he asked anxiously, from the bottom of
the stairs, 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.
" 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.
" 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, 1 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 *hat she had him at her feet again, wished to efface
the unplersant 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," answerod he, " your letter was strange. Ani was
sick, and yet you wanted to come yourself."
'• Both were true."
" Dal and I do not doubt it."
" Yes, you do doubt. I sec that you are angry."
" Not for one minute ; but what vexes me is that you will
not admit that there are duties " —
636 ANNA KARENINA.
" 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 you 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 Aleksel
Aleksandrovitch's reply and immediately afterwards to secure
the divorce, they set up their establishment as though they
were married.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 637

PART VII.

I.
The Levins had been in Moscow for two months, and the
time fixed by competent anthorities 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
chiid which she expected, and she entertained this feeling with
joy. The child already existed for her ; he even manifested
bis independence at times by cansing 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 clonded 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 ways. Iu 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 stndies 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 bis jealousy which stood in danger
of being observed, and that he was not only not to be pitied,
038 ANNA KAR&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
becanse 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 becanse city conditions
were different, or becanse both were beginuing to be more
guarded and prndent : 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 oue 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
prin<■pSn, 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 KARtNINA. 63!>
She exchanged some words with Vronsky, smiled when he
called the assemblv 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 becanse it is impolite not to look at a man when
he bows.
She was grateful to her father becanse he said nothing
about this meeting with Vronsky ; 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 pity 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."
n.
"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, becanse 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. I want to talk over my book with him."
640 ANNA KARtNINA.
" 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? "
" Da! why should I go all aloue? "
" Do go. They're going to give those new pieces : it will
interest yon. I would certainly go." .
"Nit! 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, yo« 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 langhed.
"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 l"or 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, proshchai ! — 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? "
'• 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 becanse much money was spent, but becanse it
reminded him of what he wanted to forget.
 ANNA KAIttNINA. 641
" I have ordered Sokolof to seil the corn, and to get the
rent of the mill in advance. We shall have money enough."
" No ; bnt I fear, that, as a general thing " —
" Not at all, not at all," he repeated. " Nu! proshchat,
dushenka " [good-by, 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."
" Truly? " said she, looking into his face.
He said that, thinking only to comfort her. But when he
saw her gentle, honest eves 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
i 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 money at all. We talked about it yes
terday with mamma and Arseny, — 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 Arseny's, and talk with him : he
will tell you what we decided about it."
''Nu! I will follow Arseny'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, proshchat! "
On the staircase, old Kuzma, who acted in the city as
steward, stopped his master.
" Krasavtehika [Beanty] 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 KAR&NINA.
his horses from the country. He wanted to set np a suitable
stable which should not cost too heavily ; 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
izvoshchiks.
" 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 put 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 " [s/«s/tal"«-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 heavy 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 exhansted, 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 KARtNINA. 043

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 jndgment, 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 Katavasofs
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. N'u!" And Katavasof in a few words
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 held by the high anthori
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 anthor
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. 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 his
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 KARtNINA.
skoe kliozydistvo], said Levin, blushing; "but in stndying
the principal instrument, the laborer, I 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 Metrof had written
au 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.
" How, in your opinion, does the Russian lalwer 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.
" 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 explaiued 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. He 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 they differed, he
 ANNA KARtNINA. 645
let Metrof talk, and only listened. Though he was not at all
interested in what he said, he felt extremelv 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
Dot know that the eminent professor, having worn out his
own circle on this subject, was not sorry to have a new
anditor ; and, moreover, that he liked to talk on the subjects
which occupied him, becanse 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 ' [Obahchesteo Liubitelye], 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 they reached the university, 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 stndent, and asked him in a low voice what they
were reading. The stndent, looking angrily at Levin, re
plied, "The biography."
Levin listened to the biography 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 lond, brilliant voice a sketch of the work of Svintitch.
When Katavasof had fmished. 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 stndies,
each in his own line.
646 ANNA KARtNINA.

TV.
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: yon'll find this
better. Have you read the circular of the Journal de St.
Pitersbonn/? I fmd 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 fanlty."
"I can't think that." said Levin with a smile, who was
touched by the genuineness of this humility.
"Ach, kakzhe! I now feel how little I know. Now that
I am educating my sons, 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 KARtNINA. 647
"and it is so hard. Nu! tell me one thing. Here he says
— but you are langhing at me."
" Ou the contrary, 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 Op
as yours, and I should not want better children than yours."
Lvef 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.
''Nu! how is Kitty? I am going to dine with you to-day.
Vol tchtd! Arseny," she said, turning to her husband, " you
take the carriage." . . .
And between husband and wife began a discussion of the
question how they 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 Arseny, and that then they
should go all together to Kitty's.
"This man is spoiling me," said Lvof to his wife: "he
assures me that our children are lovely, when I know that
they are full of fanlts."
648 ANNA KARtNINA.
" Arseny 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 belitage. 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 Apraksina, 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 ! maman wants us, les beaux-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 matinfe, 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 KAR&NINA. 649
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 only the impression of a
laborious attempt at instrumentation. But these same new
themes, beantiful as some of them were, gave an unpleasant
impression, becanse they were not expected or prepared for.
Gayety and sadness, despair, tenderness, trinmph, followed
one another like the incoherent thoughts of a madman, to be
themselves followed by others as wild.
When the piece snddenly ended. Levin was surprised at
the fatigue which his mental intensity had cansed him. He
felt like a deaf man who sees dancing ; and as he listened
to the applanse of the andience, he wished to compare his
impressions with those of persons of musical ability.
People were rising on every 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 yon, 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 ewig Weibliohe,
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 KARiNINA.
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 Bold, and the call which he
should have made upon him came to mind.
" Nu! go quickly," said Natali, 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.
"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,
"ivu/ 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 danghters 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 sndden death! " — said
Levin.
The countess came in, sat down on the sofa, and asked
also about his wife and the concert.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 651
Levin replied, and asked some questions about the sndden
death of Madame Apraksina.
" Besides, she was always in delicate health."
" Were 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 had got through, the
colonel, who had hitherto held his peace, began also to speak
about the opera and about an illumination. Then, langhing,
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."
" I have promised to go there to fetch my belle-soeur,"
replied Levin.
Silence again : the mother exchanged a look with her
danghter.
.' it must be time to go," thought Levin ; and he rose.
The ladies shook hands with him, and charged him with
mUle choses [" 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 KARtNINA.

VII.
Levin had not set foot in the club since the time when,
having finished his stndies 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 Shchcrbatsky,
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," said 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
[lish-soup].
'• Here, Levin," cried a jovial voice from the other end of
the room. It was Tuiwtsuin. He was silting with a young
officer, and near him were two chairs tipped up. Levin, with
 ANNA KARtNINA. 65.3
joy, went to join him. He always liked the good-hearted,
prodigal Turovtsuin ; 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, langhing eyes, — Gagin,
from Petersburg.
"Oblonsky is always late."
" Ah ! here he is."
" You have only just come, haven't you? " asked Oblon-
eky of Levin, hurrying up to him. " Your health. Will you
take vodka ? Nu! come on."
Levin got np, 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 livery hastened to get for him.
Immediately after the ukhd, 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 langhed uproariously. Stepan Arkadyevitch ordered
more champagne, and then, taking his glass, drank to the
health of a bald, rnddy, 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'^ anecdote was also very diverting.
Then Levin told his story, which likewise raised a langh.
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 Arkadvevitch, 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. Vronsky 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 KARtNINA.
"Da! I ran away the same day. We have just been
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 ! 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 uear 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 langh, 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 ball,
"you would think that they were born shliupiks."
" How shliupiks?"
" Here you are, and don't know what that means ! That
 ANNA KARtNTNA. 655
is our club term. You know how eggs roll. "Well, when
anyone goes with a gait like that, he becomes a shliupik.
And so our brother yonder goes slithering through the club,
he becomes a shliupik. Da, vot! you langh ; 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."
"2Vru, kakzhe, nu ! Prince Tchetchensky is famous. Nu !
That's all right. He's always playing billiards. Three years
ago he wasn't among the shliupiks, but was a great gallant.
He himself called other people shliupiks. Only he came one
time — But our Swiss — you know Vasili, our tall one?—^
he made a ban mot. Prince Tchetchenskv asks him, ' Nu,
Vasili! anybody here yet? any shliupiks come?' And Vasili
answers, • Yon are the third." Da, 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 Ivanovitch 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-
nata, 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;
 ANNA KARtNINA.
" but It's the uncertainty, the indefiniteness of the situa
tion. "
He was about to pass on discreetly, but Stepan Arkadye-
vitch called him.
"Levin," said he : and Levin saw that there were tears
in his eves, as was always 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, he-
canse 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, they 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 ou,
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 onry 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 Iiifernalnaia, 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 yon 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 KARtNINA.

IX.
" Prince Obi.onskv'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 cluhbish 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 izcoshchiks 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 ' especially 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 mouths. 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? "
" Ach! 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, becanse she doesn't wish to impose herself
on any one. What do you think? That fool of a Princess
Varvara sent word to her that she left her lor 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. " Fu, how hot it
is! " he added, throwing open his shuba in spite of twelve
degrees of cold.
058 ANNA KARtNINA.
" Da! she has a danghter, hasn't she, to take up her time
and attention ? "
" You seem to imagine every woman to be a mere com-'
veuse" [setting-hen], said■ Stepan Arkadyevitch. '•Why,
yes, of course, she gives her time and attention to her dangh
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 Vorknyef, 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 becanse she loves to do it. They
had — that is, Vroiisky 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 gymnasinm ; 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. Stepau
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
Arkadyevna?" and received the answer, "Mr. V•orknyef."
" 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 wilh a huge
shade. A reflector-lamp on the wall threw its rays on a full
 ANNA KARtNINA. 659
length portrait of a woman, which instantly attracted Levin's
attention. It was the portrait of Anna, painted by Mikhai-
lof in Italy. While Stepan Arkadyeviteh 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, beantiful 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 becanse it was not alive did
it seem more beantiful than life itself.
" I am very glad" \_ya otchen rnda], said a voice snddenly
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 beanty 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 cansed 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 Vorknyef, and
mentioned by name the girl who was seated with her work
near the table.
"I am very, 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.
06O ANNA KARtNINA.
Oblonsky asked if smoking was allowed.
" That is why we have taken refuge in Aleksei's stndy,"
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 Vorknyef.
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 Karenina when she had seeu
Dolly.
"Dolly? She was here yesterday, highly indignant at
Grisha's Latin teacher at the gymnasinm. It seems he was
unfair to him. Ivan Petrovitch and I were talking just now
of Yashchenkof'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 Vorknyef 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 Dandet. That is,
perhaps, always the way. You begin by stndying 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 Vorknyef.
" Have you been at the club? " said Anna to her brother,
leaning towards him, so as to speak in a low tone.
 ANNA K AIl t NINA. 001
"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 tea in the drawing-room."
The child rose, and went out.
" Nu! has she passed the examination?" asked Stepan
Arkadyeviteh.
" Perfectly. She is a very capable girl, and a lovely char
acter. ' '
" You will end by loving her better than your own dangh
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 Arkadyevna," said Vorknyef, " 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-
sei 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 — " used
to^ncourage 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 I 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 jou 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,.;'e n'aipas le cceur assez large [I haven't a
662 ANNA KAR fiNINA.
heart large enough] ; cela ne m'a jamais rAum [I never was
successful in that]. It is onlv 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 snddenly frowning, — and Levin saw that
she frowned becanse 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 Vorknyef, 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, beanty, she had
sincerity. She would not conceal the thorns of her situa
tion. As she said that, she sighed, and her face snddenly
assumed a stern expression, as though it were changed to
stone. With this expression on her face, she was even more
beantiful 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 KARtNINA. 663
any one wanted to say, and each was willing to let the
other talk ; and all that was said had 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 jndged 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. Vorknyef had already left some time
before. Levin rose, too, but with regret. He felt as if he
had only just come.
" Proshchai" [Farewell], said Anna to him, holding his
hand in hers, and looking into his eyes with a fascinating
look.
" I am glad que la r/lace est rompue " [the iee 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 ! "
"Da! I will surely tell her," answered Levin, and the
color came into his face.
XI.
"What a wonderful, lovely, and pitiable woman!"
thought Levin, as he went out with Stepan Arkadyevitch
into the cold night air.
"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 jndgments," said Ste
pan Arkadyevitch, opening his carriage-door. "Proshchat
[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
064 ANNA KARtNINA.
better and better, and, at the same time, feeling the deepest
commiseration for her.
Ktizma, 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 prikaxhchik.
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 becanse 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 clamber.
On his way, 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.
" Nu! what hast thou been doing?" she asked him, no
ticing, as she did so, an unusual light in his eyes, 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 KARtNINA. 665
peasantry, or men in societv. 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.
" Nu ! 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, merelv said, " Ah ! "
" You are not going to be vexed becanse I went? Stiva
begsied 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 annoyance;
for he understood the canse 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; you drank
too much ; you gambled ; and then you 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 onlv bv promising her to avoid Anna, whose
pernicious influence, together with an excess of champagne,
he had to confess, had clonded 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. They talked till three o'clock in the morning.
Only when it was three o'clock were they sufficiently recon
ciled to go to sleep.
666 ANNA KAlltNINA.

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 cansed
Kitty to feel the fascinations of both, yet, 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 he 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 Vashvin, 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? Iam 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 Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, and I can't
write again. Still no answer. I ennnot 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 sorry 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 becanse he did not return, but not to let her grief be
 ANNA KARtNINA. mi
seen. Vronsky must not be allowed to pity her. She did
not want a contest. She blamed him becanse he wanted to
quarrel, but she herself involuntarily took the attitnde of an
opponent. Vronsky came in with a bright, contented ail,
approached her, and guyly asked her, —
" Nu! 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. Nu! how do
you like Levin? " he asked, as he sat down near her.
" Very much. They have only just gone. Hew about
Yashvin?"
" 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, snddenly
raising her eyes to his. The expression of Vronsky'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 becanse 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 becanse 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 forme" — and again the sense of her pitiable lot
came over her, and she almost sobbed. " If you knew what
it meant forme 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 kar£nina.
" 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.
" Nit! 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," sho replied. " I myself don't
know. It's the loneliness : it's my nerves. Na ! Don't
let's talk about it any 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 cansed his wife.
At five o'clock the noise of a door opening awakened him
snddenly. 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
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 069
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; I 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 ala.tu which
lie 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 Fctrovna had better be called."
The candle was again lighted. She was sitting on the
bed, holding the knitting that she had begun the day 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 cansed 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 snddenly 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 cansed 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? " ha thought. She suf
670 ANNA KAR&NINA.
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
vyeta Petrovna — 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
riage, 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 I will call there. There's
nothing more, is there? Oh, yes, — Dolly ! "
Hhe looked at him without hearing, and motioned him with
her hand. " Yes, yen, 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 bead, he rushed out.
" Lord have mercy on us! pardon us! save us! " he ex-
claimed : and these words were not sicken merely by his
lips. Now he, the unbeliever, knowing no longer either
scepticism or doubt, called upon Him who held in His power
his soul and his love.
The horse was not ready. In order not to lose time, and
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 izvoshchik 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 platok. "Thank God!" [S^<■wi
Iiohn], 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 sludge alongside of Kuzma, and hurried
off to the doctor's.
 ANNA KAR1ZNINA. 671

XIV.
The doctor was not yet up ; and a servant, who was busy
cleaning the lamps, announced that his master had goue 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
landanum 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 tllat 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,
cuse me ! —init•sthemore
name of two
than Heaven! Piotr! "Dmitritch, — ex
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."
072 ANNA KARtNINA.
" Piotr Dmitriteh," 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-x?" [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 rii"st
have some coffee.
" I understand you," added the physician, smiling; " but
you may be sure there's no hurry, and we husbands cut a
sony 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.
" 1n 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 you 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 he merciful! " and
he was afraid that he could not endure it, so terrible was it
to him : thus an hour went by.
 ANNA KA RtxINA. 673
And after this another hour passed, and a second, and a
third, and more than live 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 Petrovna asked for a light, he was sur
prised to fmd 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 Petrovna 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 cantiously, 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 duma [council].
Then they sent him to the princess, to get a holy image made
of silver, with a golden chasuble, from her bed-chair.ber ;
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
this 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. Bnt that grief and this happiness raised him
above the usual level of existence. k-, heights where he
674 ANNA KAR&NINA.
canght 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, aiid 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 Pctrovna, quick, quick!" —
She spoke rapidly, and tried to smile; but snddenly her face
grew convnlsed, 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 KARtNINA. 675
But aay what they might, he knew now that all was lost.
He leaned against the lintel, and asked himself if it eould he
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 hack to
the bedroom, expecting to die with his wife. Snddenly 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,
beantiful with a supernatural beanty, and tried to smile at
him, one hand resting on the counterpane.
Coming snddenly 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 on 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 saying, 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
know.
Just before, Levin would unhesitatingly have believed, if
he had lx•en 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
676 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 happ}-. 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 be 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 offend 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.
" Kind 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 [mob-
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 weleomed 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 h«
had slept.
 ANNA KAlltNINA. 677
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 snddenly the expression
of her face changed. She heard her baby cry. " '
" Give him to me, Lizavyeta Petrovna, and let me show
him to his father," she said.
" Nu, vol! Let papa look," said the nurse, taking up
and showing a strange, red, uncertain something. " Wait,
we must dress it first," said Lizavyeta, Petrovna, 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 langhed. " 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 prond 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 yon. But we must let papasha
see what a fine young man we arc."
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 [prekruitnut rebydnok'] 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. Snddenly Kitty langhed : the baby had taken
the breast.
678 ANNA KARtNINA.
"Nu! that's enough, that's enough," said Lizavyeta
Petrovna ; but Kitty would not let go of her sou, who had
gone to sleep close to her.
•• Look at him now," said she, turning the child towards
his'father. The little face snddenly 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 Ids
heart when the infant sucezed.

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 was 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. I'etrof. 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 u|>on it, beginning at Moscow through his uncles, his
aunts, and his friends, and then, when success seemed as
 ANITA KARtNINA. 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. Stepan 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 plaoe.
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 Karelin about the divorce, he extorted fifty rubles from
Dolly, and set out for Petersburg.
Karenin received him in his library ; but 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 Aleksei 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, be read
the conclusive paragraph : —
680 ANNA KAR&NINA.
" ' 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 Oblousky,
"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 Hearing the end ; and he did not try to
escape " the principle of hberty," but waited until Aleksei
Aleksandrovitch came to a panse, 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-
morsky, to say a won! 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." Stepan
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 be
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 axsiette [position] of our administration."
"Z)a/ What do you want?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch.
"Nil! 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 KAnGxiNA. 081
for merchandise, and consequently ought to be subject to the
same Jaw of supply and demand. If salaries are not sub
ject to this law, — if, for example, I see two engineers of
equal capacity, having pursued the same stndies, 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 conclnde 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 Arkadye-
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 tome that Bolga'rinof would
be more influential."
" Bolgarinof is well disposed," Oblonsky hastened to say;
and be 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
trinmph 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 clteie the cnd
of expectation;1 — 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, Karenin's face snd
denly changed, and took on an expression of corpse-like
rigidity in place of its former vivacity.
» " Bullo dyilo do-ZMda i ya doihida lta."
682 ANNA KARtNINA.
"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-
druvitch. 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 Karenin 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 Karenin snddenly, in a piercing,
almost whining voice, " that Anna Arkadyevna had obtained
all that she wished."
" Acht Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, for God's sake, don't
make recriminations. What is past is past; and you know
what she is how 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 Arkadye-
viteh, 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
tiling. But the reality and time have shown her that her
position is painful and intolerable."
" Anna Arkadyevna's life cannot interest me," said Ka-
renin. 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?
Whose advantage is it? "
 ANNA KAR£NINA. 083
" Excuse me : you seem to accuse me of being the canse
of her sufferings."
" Da! not at all, not at all, understand me," said Stepan
Arkadyevitch, touching Karenin's arm, as if he believed
that personal contact would have a mollifving 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 Arkadyevna would in her turn have the generosity
to understand" — Karenin's trembling lips could hardly
utter the words.
" She leaves all to your generosity. Sht 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 Aleksandroviteh, you arc 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 months has had the rope around his neck, and does
not know whether lie is to expect pardon or execution.
Pity her; — and, besides, I will take care to arrange all —
vox scrupules."
" I am not speaking of that," said Aleksci Aleksandro
viteh, with some disgust; "but I have perhaps promised
more than I have the right to promise."
" Then, you refuse to do what yon have promised? "
" I never refused to do all that I could ; but I must have
time to consider."
" No, Aleksei Aleksandroviteh," 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 ' ' —
" Vnus professez d'etre wn libre penseur [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
68^ ANNA KAR&NINA.
vorce is permitted," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "Divorce
is permitted by our Church."
" Allowed, hut 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 you, and moved by genuine Christian feeling?
VVereil't you ready to sacrilice 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 Karenin, rismg snddenly, and
trembling from head to foot, " I beg of you — to cut short,
to cut short this interview ! "
" Ach, nu! 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.;'
Karenin 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.
STEr.\n Arkadvevitch was going out when Kornei came
in, and announced, " Sergei Alekscyevitch."
" Who is Sergei AlekscyeVitch?" Oblonsky began to ask,
for a moment not remembering.
" Ach, Serozha I" he exclaimed ; " and here was I, think
ing it was some direktor 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 Karenin hastened
to warn him not to talk to him of his mother.
"He was very ill after that interview with his mother,
 ANNA KAR&NINA* 085
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 stndying well."
"Why, he is no longer Serozha : he is full-grown Sergei
Alekseyevitch," said Stcpan Arkadyevilcb with a smile, as a
handsome, tall, robust boy, dressed in a kurtattfiku [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.
" Dal you remember me? "
The boy quickly glanced at his father.
" I remember you, mon oncle," answered the boy, casting
down his eves.
The uncle called the makhik to him, and took his hand.
"Xit! 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
clnded 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, becanse it awakened memories which
cansed him shame ; and it was still more unpleasant, be
canse, from certain words which he had canght as he entered
the door, and by 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 wonted to get out of his
uncle's way.
686 ANNA KARtNINA.
Stepan Arkadyeviteh, shortly after, as he went out, found
the boy playing on the stall"s, 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 Stepan Arkadyeviteh,
amused.
" Yes. He has to be bold and skilful, becanse the train
comes to a stop very sndden, and he might get thrown over."
" Da! this is no joke," said Stepan Arkadyeviteh 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 snddenly.
" No," answered the child quickly, turning red; and his
uncle could not make him talk any more.
When the Rnssian tutor found Serozha on the stairs, half
an hour after, he could not make out whether he was cry
ing or was sulky.
" Did yon 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.
XX.
Stepan Arkadvevitch, 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 caffo-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 KA JitNINA. 687
bitter, 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 Tehetchensky. 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 fStepan 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 snddenly 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
viteh was talking with him, and said, —
" You seem to have some connection with Mordvinsky.
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 langh.
688 ANNA KAR&NINA.
" Happy mortal ! I have a million and a half of debts,
and not a ruble ; and, as you see, I live all the same."
And Stepan Arkndyevitch 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. He felt as if
ten vears 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 beanties: 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
thing else. The day after his interview with Kareuin, Stepan
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 Miagkaia interrupt a call which was begin
ning to bore him.
"Ah, here you are!" said the stout princess, when she
saw him. "Nu! 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 Vronsky 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 KAR&NINA. 689
in-law. Everybody said he was a genins. A genins ! 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 Landan. 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
evenmg."
"JV«/ That's just it!" cried the princess, delighted.
" They will consult Landau."
" Why, who is Landan? "
" What ! you don't know Jules Landau, — le fameux Jules
Landan, le clairvoyant? That's what comes of living in the
provinces. Landan, you ipust know, was commis [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 Landan. They 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 Landan 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 Aleks<5i Aleksandrovitch take up
is decided without consulting him. Your sister's fate is,
therefore, in the hands of Landan 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 KARi'NINA.
" Who is with the countess? — the Frenchman?" he asked
of the Swiss, as he noticed beside Aleksei Aleksandrovitch's
well-known overcoat, a curious mantle with clasps.
" Aleksei Aleksandrovitch Karenin and the Count Bezzu-
bof," answered the servant stolidly.
" Princess Miagkaia 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 khozyatka and Aleksei Aleksandrovitch, involuntarily
turned round to look once more at this singular personage.
" Monsienr Landan," said the countess gently, and with
a precantion which struck Oblonsky. The introduction was
made.
Landan 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 Landan ; 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.
" Achl A voice? really now?" repeated he, feeling that
it was necessary to use great prndence amoug these people
where such strange things occurred.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 601
" I have known yon for a long time," said the countess to
Oblousky after a moment's silence. " Lex amis de nos amis
sunt nos amix. [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 beantiful, dreamy eyes to Stepan Ar-
kadyevitch.
" 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
conntess solemnly, and at the same time looking tenderly at
Aleksei 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 countesswith 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 renewed, 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 Oblousky. " 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
tnously.
" There cannot be differences in regard to sacred truth."
" It seems to me that he's going to sleep," said Aleksei
Aleksandrovitch, approaching the countess, and speaking in
a low voice.
692 ANNA KARtNINA.
Stepan Arkadyevitch turned round. Landan 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. " I 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 attitnde 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."
Karenin 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 Sanl."
" It seems that it isn't to be now," murmured the count
ess, following with her eyes the movements of the French
man. Landan 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 KAR&NINA. 693
"Yon mean that sin may prevent him?" asked Lidia
Ivanovna. " flut 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 read 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 their
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
KaWmin.
" Vans comprenez Vaughns?" [Do you understand Eng
lish?] asked Lidia Ivanovna; and. receiving an atlirmative
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 Karenin.
" It is very short," added she, resuming her seat. "You
will see the supernatural joy that fills the soul of the be
liever. Man who believes cannot be unhappy, becanse he is
no longer alone. Da ! here you see ' ' — She was about
to go on reading when again the lackey appeared. " From
liorozdin? 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
you acquainted with Mary Sanina? 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.
694 ANNA KARIiNINA.
" This will be dull for you," said the countess to Landan.
" 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 Landan — nufce 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 arc all
wrong, hut 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. Landan Bezzubof, — why Bezzu-
bof? " Snddenly 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 Landan. The Frenchman was as sound asleep
as Stepan Arkadyevitch had been. But Stepan Arkadye-
viteh's nap would have offended them, — he did not think
of this at the time, so strange did every thing seem, — but
Landan's rejoiced them exceedingly, and especially the
Countess Lidia Ivanovna.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 695
" Man ami " [my dear], said she cantiously, so as not to
disturb him ; and, picking up the folds of her silk dress, in
the enthusiasm of the moment, calling Karcuin, not Aleksei
Aleksandrovitch, but, "jWon ami, donnez lui la maiu! vous
voi/ezi" [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 ou his knee, but
making feeble gestures, as if he were trying to catch some
thing. Aleksei Aleksandrovitch got up, cantiously stepped
over to the chair, and put his hand into the Frenchman's
hand. Stepan Arkadyevitch also got up, and opening his
eyes wide, and trying 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 arrivie Ia demiere, celle qui de-
mande, qu'elle — sorte. 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.
••Vous m'excuserez, mais vous voi/ez — revenez vers dix
heures, encore mieux, demain " [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 pas t" [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 izvoshehik, had the man drive him to the French
theatre, and finished the evening at a restanrant, over some
champagne. In spite of all his efforts, the memory of the
evening hannted him.
He came back to his uncle Piotr Oblonsky's, where he was
staying, 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
696 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 hud 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 AlekstSi Aleksandroviteh 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 becanse 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 wanner 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 becanse 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 tomarry in case he broke with her. This
fear had been awakened in her mind by a careless remark of
the count, who, in a moment of confidence one day, blamed
 ANNA KAntNINA. 607
his mother's lack of tact in having ventured to propose to
him to marry the young Princess Sorokina.
This jealousy led Anna to lay up a great variety of accu
sations against him. And yet, after all, in spite of the
painfullness 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 Aleksei Aleksan-
drovitch'a 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.
Vronsky, for his part, dissatisfied with the false position
which Anna obstinately maintained, charged her with aggra
vating still more their difficulties in all ways. If there
came some rare moment of tenderness, Anna was not at all
appeased, seeing iii 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 canse 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 annoys 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.
C98 ANNA KA Rf.NINA.
" 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. ■
" I am 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 snddenly remembered the word [newa-
turalno] which had roused all her wrath.
" I know what he meant. He meant by affected that I
did not love my danghter, but loved a stranger. What 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. Dal 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 preparation*
for departure.
At ten o'clock Vrousky came in.

xxrv.
" 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 KARtNINA. 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 hud 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
ou my life. Don't you agree with me?"
"Oh, yes! " said he, looking with disquietnde 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. Somc 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 dc 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 hannting
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! Day 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 KARtNINA.
" Can't yon 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."
"Z>a/ Why not?"
" Sunday or never ! "
" Why not? " cried Vronsky in astonishment. " There's
no sense in that."
" Not for you, becanse 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
danghter, 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 becanse
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 sndden show of ten
derness for her didn't please me."
" Why do you, who 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, snd
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 yon 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 KARtNlNA. 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 becanse he
has sacrificed every thing for me," said she, allnding 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 annt, 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
stndy? How would Aleksei 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, hut 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 Aleksei 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."
V smile of pity for herself came over her face as she me-
■Ininically took off the rings from her fingers, and imagined
.low he would feel after she was dead. Approaching steps —
his steps — canght 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 KAR&NINA.
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 canght the sound of tears in
his voice, and that she felt their moisture on her hand. Pass
ing snddenly 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 maman. Perhaps she can get me the
money through Yegerof, and then I shall be ready 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 was 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 be
come to me," she said as she sat down by him. " Nothing is
 ANNA KARtNINA. 703
more detestable than these rhamhrex garnies. There is no
individuality in them, no soul. The clock, the curtains, the
paper — koslimar [nightmare] '. Vozdvizhenskoe seems to me
like the promised land. It is decided that we go to-morrow,
is it?" she added in a joyous tone. But snddenly 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
he between Stiva and me? "
Vronsky called the valet back, and ordered him to bring
in the telegram.
" I did not care to show it, becanse 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 Vronsky. "It seems that he has been gam
bling again, and has won about sixty thousand rubles."
" No," said she, vexed becanse 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 becanse I like clearness."
" Clearness ! But in love, not in mere outside show," she
said, getting more and more angry, not at his words, but at
the tone of cool calmness in which he spoke. "Why do you
want a divorce ? ' '
704 ANNA KARtNINA.
" Bnzlie mo)' ! 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, becanse of the children ; but
don't you have some thought of mc?" 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
beanty.
" 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 cansed by the fact that I
have come absolutely into your power," she said, seeing
with terror, in Vronsky's eyes, a cold and cruel jndge 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, obstinately 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 KARtNINA. 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 1iave 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 this 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.
"iT« / how are your affairs? Have they paid 30u your
debt? " she asked.
" Da ! not yet. I shall probably get a part of it Wednes
day," said Yashvin awkwardly; for he perceived that h<"
had come in at an unfortunate moment. " When do yo»
leave?"
" Day after to-morrow, I think," said Vronsky.
" You have taken long to make up your minds."
" Kut 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. Nu! Wo
engage in war, and that makes the fun."
706 ANNA KAR&NINA.
" Nu! but if you were married, what would your wife
say?"
Yashvin langhed. " 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 band 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, Vronsky 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 snddenly touched with com
passion for her. " What 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 canght 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 KARtNINA. 707
was full of despair, and then go ont with a calm, indifferent
face ? He had not only grown cold to her, but he hated her,
becanse 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 you," she imagined him saying. " Yon
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 yesterday that he loved
me? Isn't he a sincere and honest man ? " she said to her
self a moment afterwards. " Haven't I been in despair sev
eral times before, all for nothing? "
She passed the entire day, except two hours during which
she made a visit to her protfyes, the Wilsons, in alternate
doubt and hope. She had been waiting all day ; and late in
the evening she went to her room, telling Annushka 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
nushka ; 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
his 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 opinm, 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 KARtNINA.
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 " — Snddenly the shadow of the screen seemed to
waver and cover the whole ceiling : the other shadows from
all sides joined in with it, tremhling, and all became one
absolute obscurity.
" 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 Vronsky'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 jfistifying her
self. She went back to her room, and swallowed a second
dose of opinm, 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 KARf.NiyA. 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 mupi. 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 coupi
drove away, and Vrousky came quickly up-stairs.
This little scene snddenly cleared away the mist which
weighed upou 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 danghter have brought
me the money and papers from muman. 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-morrow? "
" 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 iudiffer
710 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 stable3. Have him hurry."
She sat down, and wrote, —
" I am to blame. Come back. Wc 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 beantiful, 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 KARtNINA. 711
day, she stepped over in front of the little one, and put
the stopper back into the carafe. The motion of the child's
brows and her hearty langh recalled Vrousky so vividly, that
Anna, choking down her sobs, rose snddenly, 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. Da, 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 canght sight of
a glowing face and strangely brilliant eyes gazing at her
from the mirror. " Yes, it is I." And she snddenly 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 Annushka was arranging her dresses.
"Annnshka," she said, as she stood before the maid, not
knowing what to say.
" Will you go to Darya Aleksandrovna's? " said the maid,
for the sake of suggesting something.
" To Darya Aleksandrovna's? Yes, I will go there. Fif
teen minutes to go, fifleen 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 caleulating,
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 down to him.
712 ANNA KARtNINA.
"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 answerback 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 musn'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 Oblon-
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 th« 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 KARtNINA. 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. Philippof— Ka-
latchi [little cakes] ; they say they send them as far as
Petersburg. The water at Moscow is so good ; ah ! the
wells of Muitishchcnsky ! " And she remembered how long,
long ago, when she was seventeen, she had gone with her
annt to the monastery of Tro'itsa2 [Trinity].
'•They travelled with horses in those days. Was it really
I, with the red hands? How many things which seemed then
beantiful 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."
\_modui i vbonii] she read.
A man bowed to her: it was Annushka's husband. "Our
parasites, as Vronsky says. Ours? Why 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 Aleksei Aleksandro-
viteh, and how she drove him out of her memory. " Dolly
will think that I a:n leaving the second husband, 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 they were
smiliug at each other. " Probably about love. They don't
Snow how sad and wretched it is. The boulevards and the
children ! There are three little boys, playing horse. Sero-
eha ! my little Serozha. I shall lose all. I shall never have
him again. Da ! if he does not come back, all is indeed
lost. Perhaps he missed the t ain, and has already reached
i Kontor i xklad. Zubnot Vrntch.
1 The Troittknit' Larra, 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 ii0,000 souls, or
male serfs.
714 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 say 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 of
subject Anna arrived,
Kitty•s diet.theDolly
two sisters were talking
went aloue over the
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 thiit he does not understand what Aleksei
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 Vionsky has no right to thrust it in my face, even if
she is right. I know that a virtnous 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 au adjoining r'X,m.
" And what am I to say to Dolly? Delight Kitty with the
spectacle of my misery ? Submit to her condescension ?
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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,'1 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 beantiful, sympathetic face, all her prejndice
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.
" When 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 KARtNINA.
much," she added, with a wicked emphasis. " Where w
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 proshrhaX [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 Dolly came in after going to the door with
Anna. " And how beantiful 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 unhappiness ! 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 begrndged 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 KARltNINA. 717
to herself, as a tall, florid man went by, 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 Vronsky,
took Levin. She envies me, she hates me ; and we hate
each other. [' So
fat•s coiffer goeshave
I will the my
world. Tiutkin ']coiffeur
hair dressed — Je me
par Tiutkin. —
I will tell Aim 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.
" 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 izvoxlichiks
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 so 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. Vuonskt."

" And has the messenger come back? "

" Not yet," replied the Swiss.
"Ah ! if that is so, then I know what I must do ;" and fee\
ing a vague sense of anger and a desire for vengeance arising
in her soul, she ran up-stairs.
718 ANNA KAntNINA.
" 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 anyone as I hate this man ! " And when she canght
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 niight happen to think of. Dinner was on the table. She
took a bit of bread and cheese : the smell of the 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 KAR&NZNA 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 y0u rselves ; " 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 snddenly 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 trinmph of success above everv thing.
Of course, he loved me, but chiefly from vanity. Now that
he is not prond 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
rnddy-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 KARtNINA.
" My love has been growing more and more selfish and
passionate : hiss 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 I am not,
either. I am not jealous, but my love is no longer satis-
fled. But" — she opened her mouth to speak, and, in the
excitement cansed 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 cjases, disgust begins. — I
don't know these streets at all. What hosts of houses ! and
in them, people, people, — no end of them! and thcy all
hate each other !
"Nu! what could happen to me now that would give me
happiness again? Suppose that Aleksei Aleksandrovitch
should consent to the divorce, and would give me back Se-
rozha, and that I should many 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 tjieir
relation to one another, which had hitherto been tinged with
tenderness, made her shndder.
" 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 iii0.
and I cannot change him : every means has been tried. . . .
 ANNA KARtNINA. 721
Da t 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 everylwdy else? Here come
the schoolboys out to play! Serozha?" It reminded her
of her son. " I used to think that I loved him, and I was
touched by his gentleness. I also lived without him, gave
him up for my love, and was not sorry for the change, since
I was contented with him whom I loved." And she remem
bered with disgust what she called that love. And tin; 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 impndent young men of a flashy
and vnlgar 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 KAR&NINA.
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 iiis
gold-laced hat, with an inane smile, for a farewell, and de
parted. The sancy conductor shut the door. A woman,
deformed, and ridiculously dressed up, followed by a lit
tle girl langhing affectedly, passed below the car-window.
Anna looked at her with disgust. The little girl was speak
ing lond 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 ear-wheels : he wore a cap. from beneath
which could be seen tufUs of dishevelled hair. "There is
something familiar about that hump-backed muzhik," thought
Anna ; and snddenly she remembered her nightmare, and drew
back frightened towards the ear-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 east 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, langhter. Anna saw so clearly that
there was nothing to rejoice at, that this langhter 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
interestmg to ask him what he meant by that," thought
 ANNA KARtNINA. 723
Anna, looking at him angrily. Then she looked by the
woman's head out of the ear-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 sun 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? "
" 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? Bnt
how? Why does the conductor keep hurrying through the
car? Why does he shout? Why are there people in this
car? Why do they speak? What are they langhing 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 rnde 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 lond, observed her
724 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 danghter.
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, immensely prond 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, becanse 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 andible remarks about her toilet. "Just in style."
they said, referring to her lace. The young men would not
leave her in pence. 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 kvas did not take his eyes from
her.
" Bnzhe moil 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.
Snddenly 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 KARtNINA. 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 cansed 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 ear ; 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? Wiry?" 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 hook, 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.
720 ANNA KARtNINA.

PART VIII.

L
Two months had passed by, and though half the summer
was gone, SergeT Ivanovitch had not yet made up his mind
to leave Moscow. An important event for him had just oc
curred, — the publication of his lxwk, 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 anthor to the people of his circle ; but
although his work could not litj said to possess the charm of
novelty, Sergei 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-oceupied with quite different mat
ters, to give the least attention to a publication of this
kind. As for the newspapers, mouths 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
anthor was. He had met him at the house of a friend.
He was very young, very clever as a writer, but perfectly
uneducated. Notwithstanding Sergei Ivanovitch's disdain
of the anthor, he began to read the article with extraordinary
interest. But it proved to be abommable. 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 KAR&NINA. 727
gible, as the critic's frequent interrogation-points testified.
In a word, he tried to show that the anthor 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 fof a moment think of answering the ridicu
lous errors and blunders ; but he involuntarily remembered
how, when he met the young anthor 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 very keen ; and his feelings were still more
tried, becanse, now that his book was off his hands, he had
nothing especial to occupy the larger part of his time. He
was bright, well educated, in perfect health, and very active ;
and he 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 alter his interest in American subjects, foreign famines,
expositions, spiritualism, was exhansted, 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' finerv, 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 agr^je. 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 KARtNINA.
other in showing absurd and abominable things, — com
manders-in-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, arousect sympathy for their
sufferings, and indignation against their persecutors ; and the
heroism of the fSerbs and Montenegrins, who were fighting
for a great canse, cansed a universal desire to help their
brethren, not only in word, but in deed.
But there was another phenomenon which delighted Ser
gei Ivanovitch especially. This was the manifestation of
public opinion. Society actually spoke out its desires.
"The national soul was moved," as Sergei Ivanovitch ex
pressed it ; and the more he stndied 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 sen-ice of this great canse, 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 Sergei 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 lxmqucts attended the heroes
of the hour, to say good-by ; and the crowd followed them.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 729
One of the ladies armed with bouquets was in the station,
and addressed Sergei Ivanovitch.
" Did you also come to see the sight?" she asked, speak
ing in French.
"No: I am going myself, princess; that is, — to have a
little rest at my brother's. But are you still on escort 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?"
" 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.
" Do you know Count Vronsky, the famous, is going on
this train? " said the princess, with a trinmphant 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
restanrant of the station, where a man, with a glass in his
hand, was making an address to the volunteers : —
" 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 canse. Ma}"
it prosper ! " he conclnded, 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 Arkadyevitch, who, with a radiant smile of joy, was
working his way through the crowd. " Didn't he speak
gloriously ? Bravo ! And here's Sergei Ivanuitch. You
ought to speak just a few words, you know, of encourage
ment, you do it so well," added Oblousky, touching Koznui
730 ANNA KAM?NINA.
shef's arm, 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 yon'll see my wife. I wrote her, but yon'll see her
before she gets my letter. Please tell her that you mefr me,
and every thing is all right : she will understand. Tell her,
too, that I got my place as member of the Commission of —
Nu, da! she knows what that is, you know, les petites mi-
strea de 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 Bartnyansky of Petersburg, and
our Veslovsky. Both are going. Veslovsky is just married.
He's a line 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.
" What splendid news 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 fanlts," said
the princess, when Stepan Arkadyevitch was gone. " He
has the true Russian, the Slavie, 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 KARtNINA. 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 vivaciously.
Vronsky was frowning, and looked straight ahead, as
though loath to hear what Stepan Arkadyevitch 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 Kozunishef had taken leave of the princess, he and
Katavasof, who bad 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 they responded in the same way ;
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 stndious habits
ki"pt 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
volunteors. Some of them were seated in a corner of the car,
talking noisily, aware that they were attracting the attention
of the othd• passengers and of Katavasof. The tall, round-
shouldered young man was talking londer than the others.
He was evidently very drunk, and was telling a story. Op
posite him sat an old officer in Anstrian uniform. He was
listening with a smile to the narrator, and occasionally
prompting him. A third volunteer, in an artillery uniform,
' "£ot/u Tmra Khrani."
732 ANNA KARtNINA.
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, becanse
he was effeminate, conceited, and sickly. 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 ; be
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. Whcu 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."
" My 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 elderly 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 imprndent 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 KARIZNINA. 733
without confiding to each other their mutual opinions on this
subject, they talked over the most recent war news, inclnding
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 they 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 restanrant ; but there was much less enthusiasm
than there had been at Moscow.

IV.
While the train stopped, Sergei Ivanovitch did not go to
the restanrant, 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 Koznuishef, 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 Sergei 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 becanse 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 clonding at this remembrance, "that woman
died as was fit for such a woman to die. Her death was low
and wretched."
"It is not for us to jndge her, countess," replied Sergei
Ivanovitch, with a sigh. " But I can imagine what you have
suffered."
734 ANNA KARtNINA.
"Ach! 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 complete,' 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.
What—did
herthe
husband anddo?•"
husband my son, — and ruined herself."
" He has taken the little girl. At first Alosha consented
to every thing : now he repents having given up his dangh
ter to a stranger ; but could he take charge of her? Karenin
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
tris bien vu <\ Pitersburg " [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, I beg
of you, he is so sad. Da ! and besides his other troubles,
 ANNA KARtNINA. 735
he has a toothache. But he will he 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.
In 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 this 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 ; " 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.
" Alight not a letter to Ristitch or Milan be of some use to
you?"
" Oh, no! " answered Vronsky, making an effort to un
derstand. " 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 KAMSNINA.
" My sole merit," replied Vronsky, " is, that life is of no
value to me. As to physical energy, I know it will not be
wanting for any purpose ; and I am glad enough to give my
life, wliich is not only useless to me, but disgusting, to be
useful to somebody : " and he made an impatient motion of
his face, cansed 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
hi nd.
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
snddenly another, not pain, but a sensation of intense inward
torture, cansed 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 sndden 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, shamelessly 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
curia 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, charming beanty, overflowing with life and gayety,
enjoying and bestowing happiness. But he saw only her
face, hanghtily expressing her threat of unnecessary but im
placable vengeance. He tried to remember the happiest
moments that he had spent with her, but those joys of the
 ANNA KARIiNINA. 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
Ivanovitch.
"Did you hear the latest telegrams? Yes: they have
fought three times, and probably there will be another battle
to-morrow." t 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 Sergei 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 taraiUds which they
hired at the station.
Kitty was sitting on the baleony 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 Sergei 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, langhing; and
his white teeth gleamed out from his dusty face.
" Kostia will be very glad. He is out on the farm, but he
will be back before long."
" Always at his fanning, while the rest of us can think of
nothing but the war with Serbia. Nal how does my 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 wile, enjoying her power of quick motion,
738 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 baleony.
" It's Sergei Ivanovitch and Professor Katavasof."
" Och t in this heat ! It will be terrible ! "
" Not at all, papa : he is very nice, and Kostia loves him
dearly," said Kitty, langhing at the expression of conster
nation on her father's face.
"Go entertain them, dushcnka," 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 actuallv 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, awd quickened
her steps. But the more she hurried, the londer 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! Ar«/ take
off his cap afterwards," said she, quite as impatient as her
baby.
The baby screamed as though it were famished. "7)a /
it can't be helped, mdtushka," said Agafya Mikhailovna. who
could not keep out of the nursery. " You must do things
in order. A'ju, agn," she chuckled to the infant, not heed
ing Kitty's impatience.
The nurse gave the child to his mother. Agafya Mikhai
lovna followed the child, her face all aglow with tenderness.
" He knows me ! He knows me ! God is my witness, he
knew me, mAtushka Kateiina Aleksandrovna." she cried.
But Kitty did not hear what she said. Her impatU nee
was as great as the baby's. It hindered the very thing that
they both desired. The baby, in his haste to suckle, could
not manage to take hold, and was vexed. At last, after one
linal 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 think he knew you?" she added,
looking down into the child's eyes, which seemed to her to
 ANNA KARtNINA. 739
peep out roguishly from under his cap as his little cheeks
sucked in and out, while his little hund, with rosy palm,
flourished around his head. " It cannot he. 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, becanse, 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 el»e
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
father, Mitya was just a little human being, who needed
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.
" AW very well, very well, we will see; now go away;
he is going to sleep."
VII.
Agafva Mikhailovna 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 Utile 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 breast.
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 on*
into a nap. Overhead she could hear the old prince's voice,
and Katavasof's sonorous langh.
" Evidently, they don't need me to help in the conversa.
740 ANNA KARtNINA.
tion," thought Kitty: " but it is too had 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, ou 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 cansed her husband's disquiet. It was
hid 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 becanse 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 mom together, or
apart? And here a sndden 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. " Nit ! he is a sceptic ; but I love him better so than if
he were like Madame Stahl, or like me when I was at Soden.
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 hu
debts.
 ANNA KA RENINA. 741
Dolly was in despair. She felt that she hated her hus
band, — despised him ; and at fhut she made up her mind to
refuse his request, and apply for :v 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, who come to consult him every day."
" 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 ; becanse 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 KARGNINA.
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 gnu-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 stndying 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 KARENINA. 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, becanse, as he began calmly to
analyze his feelings, they elnded him. He could not avow
that he had been deceived then, becanse he had experienced
a temporary spiritual condition ; and if he pretended that he
had succumbed to a moment of weakness, he would sully a
sacred 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
Schelling, and Hegel and Schopenhaner.
These satisfied his reason while he was reading, or was
contrasting their doctrines with those of others, especially
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
fore. 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 canght 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 bean
tiful words, having no more connection than logic with the
serious side of life.
744 ANNA KAR&NINA.
Once, aa he was reading Schopenhaner, he substituted the
term "love" for that which this philosopher calls "will,"
and this new philosophy gave hiiii 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 by 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 delnded by
Khomvakof'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 miserv.
"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 infinitnde of time, in
the infinitnde of matter, in the infinitnde 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
becanse 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 wag
 ANNA KARtNINA. 745
in the power of every one, and the means of deliverance
was — 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.
When Levin puzzled over what he was, and why he was
born, he found no answer, and fell into despair; hut 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
becanse 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 becanse 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 KARtNINA.
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
Sergei 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. He 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 canght 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 try 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 jndge, 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 KARSNINA. 747

of Thus he lived,
knowing, not was,
what•he knowing, andhenot
or why seeing
lived the world,
in the possibility
and
tortured by his ignorance to the point of fearing suicide ;
and 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 highl\ 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 scent 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 panse 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 tbis universal activity among the peo
ple embraced his own life.
He went to the field in the early morning, came back to
breakfasi 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 prikashchik
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 ani I here? " . ,
Standing neiir the newly thatched b%rn, tie watched the
dust, thrown off by the threshing-machin<^, flying in the air,
and the chaff settling down on the sonny grass, while the
swallows took refuge under the roof, and the laborers hurried
748 ANNA KARtNINA.
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
baba, 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 babui, 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 beantifully 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, Konstantin Dmi
 ANNA KARtNINA. 749
triteh," replied the muzhik, wiping the sweat from his neck
with a corn-husk.
" Da! how docs Kirillof pay it?"
" Mitinkh " — so Feodor called the dvnrnik — " does just
as he pleases. He has no pity on the peasants. But nude
Fokanuitch," — so he called tlussturik 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 ! "
" Dal Why does he give trust? "
"Men differ. One lives for his belly, like Mitinkh ; but
Fokanuitch, — he's an honest man, — he lives for hi* 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; pronhchai" [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 theii
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 sway 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, snddenly condensing the clond 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 uo one knows or cau
750 ANNA KARtNINA.
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 exclndes it, for it has neither canse
nor effect. 'The good,' if it had a canse, 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 unmown 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. " Every thing has its beginning,"
he said to himself, removing the leaf from the beetle's way,
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, in
the body of this grass, in the body of this beetle, — the
 ANNA KARtNINA. 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 clonds,
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.
iS"ow it was clear to him that he could live only through
the blessed influence of the faith in which he had been
tanght.
"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."
 ANNA KARtNINA.
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
mnate 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 tanght it in my childhood ;
but I believed it gladly, becanse it was already existent in
my soul. Reason discovered the struggle for existence, —
that law which demands the overthrow of every 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. They did not
believe, becanse 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 KARtNINA. 753
Interesting or worth while in it, becanse 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
in a cup over the candle, and squirting the milk into each
other's mouth. It is fun. It is new, and not half as stupid
as to drink milk out of a cup.'
" Isn't that the way we do, isn't that the way I 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 they 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 Feodort/te muzhik; and don't
they all come back to this, even though it be by an uncertain
intellectual path ? Nu — ka ! leave the children to get their
own living, make their own utensils, do the milkiug. Would
they play tricks? they would die of hunger. Nu — 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 becanse
we are spiritually satiated. We are children. Here am I, a
(Jhristian, 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 fanlts,
I feel that my childish efforts to get out of the mad circle of
reasoning have done me no good.
" Yes, reason ha■i tanght 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 KAR6NINA.
" Creation? Yes, but how did I 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, clondless
sky. " Do I not know," thought he, " that that is infinity
of space, and not a vanlt of blue stretching above me? But,
however I strain my sight, I can see only a vanlted dome ;
and, in spite of my knowledge of infinite space, I have more
satisfaction in looking at it as a blue, vanlted 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 away, and saw the herd, and his one-horse
telyiga 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
baruina sent for y0u. Your brother and another burin 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 KARtNINA. 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 Tania running towards
him.
" Uncle Kostia ! Mamma and grandpapa and Sergei Ivan-
uitch, and some one else, are coming to meet you ! "
"Dal Who is it?"
" A horrid man, who does so with his arms," said Tania,
jumping into the telytyii, and imitating Katavasof.
"Dill Old, or young?" asked Levin, smiling, and re
minded of some one by Tama's performance.
" Ark! 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 tdyfga, 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 in the house."
756 ANNA KARtNINA.
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."
"Jf«/ 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 [khozyaistvo] . Yon'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 know what to say.
He wanted to avoid the Serbian war and the Slavic question,
which had cansed unpleasant discussions while at Moscow.
Finally, he asked him how his book was getting on.
'•Nu! Was your book reviewed?" Kozunishef smiled.
" 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 clonds which
were piling up alwve 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 snddenly 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 KARtNINA. 757
will talk about that by and by. If we 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
cuenmbers, 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
clondy 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 telyega, 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.
" Vronsky. 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 lvan-
ovitch.
758 ANNA KAR&NINA.
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 Sergei 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? "
"No 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 war," 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 anthorized 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-.t, 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 yon're mistaken, bdtiushka," 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 reply. He
frowned as Katavasof spoke, and said sternly, —
" You put the question all wrong. Here there is no dec
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 759
lanition 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, hut purely as women,
children, old men. The feelings are stirred, and the whole
Russian people fly to help cheek these horrors. Suppose
you 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 bas 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. They have
beard of their terrible sufferings, and are aroused."
"That may he," answered Levin in a conciliatory tone,
" 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 sndden 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 cither a monster, or
that Carlsbad had a had 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 paople, siguified 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 KARtNINA.
'teeper, who was looking at the children with a friendly
amile.
"Da/ 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."
" Da, vok! Ask him about it," said Levin. " He doesn't
know. He doesn't think. — Have you heard about the
war, Mikhailuitch? " 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-
layevitch will think for us, as in every thing else. He knows
what to do. — Should you like some more bread?" asked
he, turning to Darya Aleksandrovna, 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 KARItNINA. 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 Mikhi.iluitch 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 IvANOvrrch was skilled in dialectics, and he took
up another side of the question.
"Z>u/ 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 way. 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 societv 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
imitv of opinion among intelligent people," said Sergei 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, fitepan 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 KARtNINA.
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 onslanght.' "
"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 ve/y vague term. What is the soul? "
demanded Katavasof, with a smile.
"Ach! You know."
" Upon my word, I haven't the least idea ; " and the pro
fessor broke into a burst of langhter.
 ANNA KARtNINA. 763
4' Christ said, ' I am come not to bring peace, but a
sword,' " remarked Sergei Ivanovitch, qnoting 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, bdtiushka, yon're beaten, yon're beaten, — wholly
beaten ! ' ' cried Katavasof gayly.
Levin reddened with vexation, not becanse he was beaten,
but becanse 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 handfnl 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 into the telyiga,
while the rest of the group hastened along on foot.
But the black, threatening storm-clond 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, langhing and screaming.
764 ANNA KARtNINA.
Dolly, hindered by her dress, tried to keep up with them.
The gentlemen followed with long strides, clinging to their
hats. At hist, just as they reached the porch, the great
drops began to rattle on the iron spout.
"Where is Katerina Aleksandrovna? " demanded Levin
of Agafya Mikhailovna, who was coming out of the door,
loaded with shawls and umbrellas.
" We supposed she was with you."
"AndMitya?"
" 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 canght 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 snddenly a glare of light seemed to burst from
the ground before him, and the vanlt of the sky above 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 neighlmring 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 towards 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 dry, but Kitty was wet through. They were
 ANNA KAR&NINA. 765
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 you 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 fanlt. We were just going
when ' ' —
" Nu! God be thanked that yon'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 joy which filled his
heart to over-flowing, 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 Serge■i 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 vu:h 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, as well as
766 ANNA KARtNINA.
the curiosity that had been roused by his brother's ideas, dis
appeared as soon as he found himself alone for a moment,
and 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 vanlt. 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 Bnddhists
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.
Killy, with her sleeves rolled up, was bending over the
bath-tub, where she was holding up the baby's head with
one hand while she s|>onged him with the other. She turned
towards her husband :is she heard his steps.
" Nu, vot ! look, look! Agafya jUikhailovna 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
•was 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. They 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 KAR&NINA. 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-
vasbf is ! Da ! the whole day has been so pleasant. You
are so delightful with your brother when you want to be.
Nit ! 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 clond 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.
" Nitl 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 evident,
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 KAR&NINA.
recognize them as well ; and this union of souls sharing a
common belief is called the Church. Nu! but Hebrews,
Mohammedans. Bnddhists, are they in the same relation?"
he asked himself, recurring to the dilemma which had threat
ened him. '• Can these millions be deprived of the greatest
of blessings, of that which alone gives a meaning to life?"
He pansed. " 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 L know that the stars do not move," said he, noticing
the change that had taken place in the position of the
brilliant planet which he had seen rising over the birdies ;
"but seeing the stars change place. a"nd 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 caleulations, and gained no knowledge, if they had
taken into consideration the varied 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 always 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, snddenly.
" 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 KAR&NINA. 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 he vexed with Ivan the coachman, and get into use
less discussions, and express my thoughts blunderingly. I
shall alwa\s be blaming my wife for what annoys me. and
repenting at once. I shall always 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."
 GLOSSARY.

Ach (akh) Oh, ah, ha, alas.

Arshin 2.833 feet, .7I I meter.
Artel Irfibor union.
Artelshchik Railroad porter.
Baba (pi. babul) Prasant-woman ; literally, woman.
Babka Midwife, grandmother.
Barin Lord, niiister.
Baruina Lady, mistress.
Baruishna Unmarried lady.
Bashluik A Cancasian hood.
Bashmak Shoes, slippers.
Batlushka Little father.
Batlushki Ye gods (little fathers).
Botvinya Vegetable soup and kvas.
Bozhe moi• My God, good heavens.
Burlak River-hoatman, 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, I.092 hektars.
Domovoi Household spirit dwelling behind the
stove.
Drozhky Carriage.
Dusha, dushka, dushenka . . Terms of endearment; little soul.
Dvornik Janitor, choreman (one who tends
the drur or courtyard).
Dvorianstvo Nobility.
Kka There l
Ekonomka Housekeeper.
Freilina Maid of honor.
771
772 GLOSSARY.
Furazhka Forage-cap.
Uolubtchik Darling.
lnfernalnaia Infernal-room (from Italian).
Ish-lui Look you.
Istopnik Stove-tender.
Izba Peasant's hut.
Izvoshchik • . . Hack-driver.
Kaftan Coat.
Kalatch Roll.
Kak-zhe IIow.
Kanuner-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.
Khozyain Master, host.
KhozyaVstvo Estate, fanning. See p. 344, note.
Kitel Linen suit.
Kondratp 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.
LineTka 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 muzli, a man.
Muzhitchok Little old muzhik.
Natehalnik 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 nohility.
Proshchai, proshchaite . . . Good-by.
Prikashcldk Superintendent.
Pud Forty pounds.
Keka River, wide ditch.
Kotmistr gvardi Captain of the guard.
Ruble (100 kopeks) 50-.80 (whether paper or silver).
Samovar Tea-urn.
Sazhen 7 feet, 2. I34 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.
Tclyega Cart, wagon.
Tlurka (pi. tlurki) Bread-crumb soaked in teas.
Topchatchek Flail.
Troika Three-horse team.
Tnlup, tuluptchika .... Sheep-skin vest or coat.
Vorst mile, I.007 kilometer.
Vodka Brandy.
Vot Here.
Zakuska Lunch.
Zemski doktor The communal doctor.
Zcmstvo Territorial assembly.
 ■ The demand for these Russian stories kas but fust fairly begun ; but it is a
$terary movement
frobabtr seen withinmore widespread,
thepast quarter more intense% than
ofa century.''• anything
— Boston this countrr has
Travkllkr.
DOSTOYEVSKTS WORKS.
Crime and Punishment, umo. $i.50.
Injury and Insult. In press.
Recollections of a Dead-House. In press.
" The readers of Turgenief and of Tolstoi must now add Dostoyevsky to their list
ff they wish
fiction.'• — W.to D.
understand
J/owellstthe reasons forMonthlrfor
in Harper's the supremacy of the Russians in modern
September.
Anna Karenina. By Count Lrof N. TolstoT. Translated from the Russian
by Nathan Haskell Dole. Royal isaio. $i.75.
Will rank among the great works of fiction of the age." — Portland Transcript.
"Characterized by all the breadth and complexity, the insight and the profound
analysis, of' Middlemarch.' " —Critic, New York.
My Religion. **y Count Lrof N. Tolstoi. Translated by Huntington
Smith, 'smo. $i.00.
" Kvery man whose eyes are lifted above the manger and the trough should take
'sions,
My Rel'gion ' to his
let him read it tohome.
confuteLetit, him read read,
but still it withandno• matter
he thatwhat
is ablehostile preposses
to receive it, let
him receive it.'" — New York Sun.
Childhood, Boyhood, Youth. By Count Lrof N. TolstoY. Translated by
Isabkl F. Hapgoud. With portrait of the anthor, ismo. $i.50.
" Will make profound impression on all thoughtful people." — Nation, New York,
" A rare and veracious picture of character development." — Star, New York.
" These exquisite sketches belong to the literature which never grows old, which
lives forever in the heart of humanity as a cherished revelation." — Literary World•
TarasBulba. By NikolaV V. Gogol. With portrait of the anthor, ismo. $i,
"For grandenr, simplicity of conception, and supcrbness of description, can
hardly be equalled." — New York Times.
" A wonderful prose epic, having all the charm and style of a stately poem, — one
of the masterpieces of literature." — New York Star.
St. John's Eve, and Other Stories. By NikolaTV. Gogol, ismo. $i.15.
In these tales of Gcgol, the marvellous abounds. His field of observation is the
village. His heroes arc unimportant people, with superstitious imaginations, — very
simple souls, whose artless passions are shown without any veil, but whose very
ingenuousness is a deliciously restful contrast to our romantic or theatrical char•
acters, so insipid and perfunctory in the refinements of their conventionality.
This volume is the second of a series of Gogol's Works which we have in prepara*
tion, and will be followed by " Dead Souls," now in press.
A Vital Question; or. What is to be Done? By Nikola! G. Tchkr-
Nuishkvskr. With portrait of the author, ismo. $i.25.
" A famous but ervde novel." — New York Tribune.
" Yet it so touches the deep realities of life that in its force one forgets its crudity
of form." — Evening Traveller, Boston.
" People accustomed to think out of leading strings will be glad to read it."
— Hartford Post.
Great Masters of Russian Literature. By Ernkst Dupur. Sketches
of the Life and Works of Gogol, Turgenief, Tolstoi. With portraits. Trans
lated by Nathan Haskkll Dolk. lamo. $i.25.
"This volume, with its clear outline of the lives of these three great 'xrvelists,
and its delineation of the'r literary characteristics, will be found a most available
and useful hand-book." — Traveller.
THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.,
13 ASTOB PLACE, NEW YORK.
 MEDlTATIONS OF A PARISH PRlEST.
THOUGHTS BY JOSEPH ROUX-
lamo. Gilt Top. $i.25.
There comes
•• Pensecs," to anthor's
and for us just name
now aa signature
book fromwhollyParisunknown,
bearing—the thattrite title,
ofJoseph
Roux. We approached the work with that distrustful indifference which a new
name arouses; we laid it down, after even the tirst cursory perusal, convinced
that in this rustic curt we had once mure come across that rara avis of hu
manity, an individual soul. Who would have dreamed that the philosophical
communings of a Catholic priest should, in these days of wide and enlightened
thought, be able to arouse the faintest interest outside the narrow community of
faithful
once soulstheforstrange
again, whose isbenefit we i"ight
the true. Thesesuppose ther hadnotbeen
" Thoughts,'• onepenned?
of whichYet,the
worthy priest's parishioners could either read or understand, have cansed a per-
feet excitement of enthusiasm in France among thinkers the most various.
M. Caro, the painter Puvis dc Chavannes, Kenan himself, nay, even the great
rtriest-hater, Francisque Sarccy, — all with one accord have done homage to the
ittlc book whose richness of first-hand thoughts {uUes mires, as the French call
them in their happy idiom) have equally charmed and amazed them. They have
not even hesitated to name their anthor in one breath with those great French
men who have achieved immortalitr in that walk of literature which seems
specially suited to the genius of the brench
The anthor of these " PenstJes," as we have said, is an unknown man, a parish
priest, and is no longer voung. He had just touched his fiftieth year when his
work was put forth to the world, — put forth almost against his will, certainly
without his aid. But tor an acc'dent, the Abbe Roux might have been numbered
among the " mute inglorious Miltons," to whom the world perchance owes more
than it wots. An accident made famous the man who, but for this, would prob
ably have gone down to his grave unhonorcd and unknown.
It was— athefestival
notice, centenarr of Petrarch,
celebrated held inFran•e
in southern iR74, bythatthefirst called that
Felibres, Rouxsociety
into
for the promotion and revival of Provencal poetrr, of which Mistral is the out-
come and to the present tune the chief glory. M. Paul Marietun, himself a young
Felibre, a poet m French and Pnvencalj made the acquaintance of the Abbe
Roux, and, struck with his work in dialect, sought to gain closer intimacy with
the author. He unearthed h\m one day m his retired nest. He appeared to
me," sars Marieton, " like one of the Limousin giants of his ' Gcste de Charle.
magne, with his strong, square frame, his deep ba<s voice. His visage, large and
tender, sweet and vet rough■hewn, resembled that ofthose Engl'sh lords of Henry
VIII.'s time, — Northern colossi, painted hy Holbein. With the gentleness of a
child and a poet, he showed me the simplicity of his life; and I departed more
moved than i can express." .... It was dunng this visit from the ardent
young Felibre that the Abbi Roux diffidently confided to him a large number of
copy.books, written in a mighty firm hand, — a hand that would delight graph
ologists, — in which were put down the mile-stones of thought, marking the way
traversed by this lonelv mmister of God during his twenty-five years of isolated
life.Abbe•
the Delighted,
•demurred. M. Marieton at once
" You would proposed
publish my ' toPensees,'"
publish aheselection. At first
said. " Beware!
I am not independent enough to seek calumny, for i am not an individual, but a
leg'on ; and the good Abbi Roux will bear the mountain of prejudice that weighs
on the clergy of all times, and above all of this time. Prudence, my fnend.
You would have me think that I shall become a personage. i can scarcely hope
it. I shall always be an immured. W'th a proud and timid character, one
neverto■day
and arrivestheatworld
anything." But w■he'
can decide M. Marieton
her he diddidwellnotorletnothimself
tn dragbe forth
deterred;
priest from his lonely obscurity. — B/acizi'ooJ's Edinburgh Mugazmt.
T. Y. CROWELL & CO., 13 Astor Place, N«w York.
 "The demandfar these Russian stories has But just fairly Begun ; But it is a literary
movement more widesf•readt more intense, than anything this country has probably seen
within the past quarter ofa century." — Boston Tkavbllbr.

CRlME AND PUNlSHMENT.

By FEODOR M. DOSTOYEVSKY.
xamo. $i.50.
"The readers of Turge•nief and of Tolsto' must now add Dostoyevsky to their list, if
they wish to understand the reasons for the supremacy of the Russians in rrodcrn
fiction."—W. D. HoxveOs, in Harper's Monthlyfor September.
"There are three Russian novelists who, though with one exception little known out of
their own country, stand head and shoulders above most of their contemporaries. In the
opinion of some not indifferent critics they are superior to all other novelists of this
generation. Two of them — Dostoyevsky and Turgenief — died not long ago; the third —
Leon Tolstoi — still lives. The one with the most marked individuality of character,
probably the most highly gifted, was unquestionably Feodor Dostoyevsky." — Spectator.
"Outside Russia the name of Feodor Dostoyevsky was till lately almost unknown. Yet
Dostoyevsky is one of the most remarkable of modern writers, and his book — ' C nme and
Punishment' — is one of the most moving of modern novels. It is a story of a murder
and of the punishment which dogs the murderer; and its effect is unique in fiction. It is
realism, but such realism as M. Zola and his followers do not dream of. The reader
knows the personages — strange. grotesque, terrible personages they are — more mtimately
than if he had been years with them in the flesh. He is constrained to live their lives, to
suffer their torture, to scheme and resist with them, exult with them, weep and laugh and
despair with them ; he breathes the very breath of their nostnls, and with the madness
that comes upon them he is afflicted even as they. This sounds extravagant praise, no
doubt ; but only to those who have not read the volume. To those who have, we are sure
that it will appear rather under the mark than otherwise.
" Every one has read the pages in which Dickens has dealt with the murder of Montague
Tigg and the agony of Jonas ChuzzlewU. The effect of 'Crime and Punishment ' is even
more poignant and devouring. To analyze the work in detail is manifestly impossible.
Every incident — and there are many — is worthy of comment; every character — and
there is at least a dozen — would furnish the matter of a long discourse. All we can do in
this place is to remark upon the strange completeness of the book as a work of art ; to
describe, however imperfectly and inadequately, the extraordinary nature of its peculiar
quality and the incomparable potency of its peculiar effect; and to note that, in spite of its
sordid subject and the sense of grinding misery which informs it throughout, its teaching is
in the main ennobling and good. It is absolutely i1on-political ; and, if we accept it as a
true picture, — and apparently we have no choice, — it is the best and fullest explanation
of Nihilism in existence." — The Athenwum.

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.,

13 ASTOR PLACE, NEW YORK.
THE MARQUIS OF PENALTA.
(MARTA Y MAR1A.)
Bv DON ARMANDO PALACIO VALDES.
'2tno. $i.50.
"The literature is delightful: full of charming humor, tender pathos, the liveliest
sympathy with nature, the keenest knowledge of human nature, and a style
whose charm makes itself felt through the shadows of a strange speech. It
is the story of two sisters, — daughters of the chief familr in a Spanish seaport
city : Maria, who passes from the romance of literature to the romance of religion,
and abandons home, father, and lover to become the spouse of heaven; and Marta,
Who remains to console all these for her loss. We do not remember a character
more finely studied than that of Maria, who is followed, not satirically or ironicallr,
through alt the involutions of a conscious, artificial personality, but with masterly
divination, and is shown as essentially cold-hearted and selfish in her religious
abnegation, and as sensuous in her spiritual ecstasies as she was in her abandon to the
romances on which she first fed her egoistic fancy. But Marta — Marta is delicious!
We see her first as an awkward girt of thirteen at her mother's tertulia, helplessly
laughing at some couples who give a few supererogatory hops in the dance after the
music suddenly stops ; and the note of friendly simplicity, of joyous, frank, sweet
naturalness, struck in the beginning, is felt in her character throughout. Nothing
could be lovelier than the portrayal of this girl's affection for her father and mother,
and of the tenderness that insensibly grows up between her and her sister's lover, left
step by step in the lurch by the intending bride of heaven. One of the uses of realism
is to make us know people ; to make us understand that the Spaniards, for example,
arc not the remote cloak.and-sword gentry of opera which romance has painted them,
abounding in guitars, poniards, billets, autos-da.fe; and confessionals, but are as ' like
folks' as we are. It seems that there is much of that freedom among young people
lover them
with whichrunmakes
has •the of theyouth a heavenly
house,' holiday intown,
in this Spanish thesequite
favored
as heStates. Maria's
would have in
Chicago or Portland, and he follows Marta about in the frequent intervals of Maria's
neglect; he makes her give him lunch m the kitchen when he is hungry, this very
human young Marquis de Penalta; he helps her id make a pie — the young lady hav
ing a passion fur all domestic employments — and to put away the clean clothes. Her
father — Don Mariano Elorza— has a passion for the smcli of freshly ironed linen,
much as any well-domesticated American citizen might have, and loves to go and put
his nose in the closets where it hangs. His wife has been a tedious, complainmg
invalid all her married life, but he is heart-broken when she dies; and it is at th's
moment that Maria — who has compromised him in the Cariist movement because that
is the party of the Church, and has tried in the same cause to make her lover turn
traitor to the government which he has sworn as citizen and soldier to defend— comes
ecstatic from the death-scene to ask his permission to complete her vocation in the con
vent. He gives it with a sort of disdain for her pitiless and senseless egotism. The
story closes with the happy love of Marta and Kicardo, clasped to the old man's
breast, and
dwellest minuling
in the he■artstheir
of thetears
good,with
canhisit ; beandthatthethese
author cries,
tears are 'less
O eternal
gratefulGod, who
to Thee
th.in the mystical colloquies of the Convent of St. Bernard?'
" A sketch of the story gives no idea of its situations, or, what is more difficult and
'mportant, the atmosphere of reality in which it moves. The whole social life of the
quiet town is skilfully suggested, and an abundance of figures pass before us, ail
graphically drawn, none touched with weakness or exaggeration. "
—W. D. liowelk, m Harpers Monthly.
T. Y. CROWELL & CO., 13 Astor Place, New York.