Anna Karenina
habit, and stumbled over it.
Darya Alexandrovna went up to the _char-à-banc_ and coldly greeted
Princess Varvara. Sviazhsky too she knew. He inquired how his queer
friend with the young wife was, and running his eyes over the
ill-matched horses and the carriage with its patched mud-guards,
proposed to the ladies that they should get into the _char-à-banc_.
“And I’ll get into this vehicle,” he said. “The horse is quiet, and the
princess drives capitally.”
“No, stay as you were,” said Anna, coming up, “and we’ll go in the
carriage,” and taking Dolly’s arm, she drew her away.
Darya Alexandrovna’s eyes were fairly dazzled by the elegant carriage
of a pattern she had never seen before, the splendid horses, and the
elegant and gorgeous people surrounding her. But what struck her most
of all was the change that had taken place in Anna, whom she knew so
well and loved. Any other woman, a less close observer, not knowing
Anna before, or not having thought as Darya Alexandrovna had been
thinking on the road, would not have noticed anything special in Anna.
But now Dolly was struck by that temporary beauty, which is only found
in women during the moments of love, and which she saw now in Anna’s
face. Everything in her face, the clearly marked dimples in her cheeks
and chin, the line of her lips, the smile which, as it were, fluttered
about her face, the brilliance of her eyes, the grace and rapidity of
her movements, the fulness of the notes of her voice, even the manner
in which, with a sort of angry friendliness, she answered Veslovsky
when he asked permission to get on her cob, so as to teach it to gallop
with the right leg foremost—it was all peculiarly fascinating, and it
seemed as if she were herself aware of it, and rejoicing in it.
When both the women were seated in the carriage, a sudden embarrassment
came over both of them. Anna was disconcerted by the intent look of
inquiry Dolly fixed upon her. Dolly was embarrassed because after
Sviazhsky’s phrase about “this vehicle,” she could not help feeling
ashamed of the dirty old carriage in which Anna was sitting with her.
The coachman Philip and the counting-house clerk were experiencing the
same sensation. The counting-house clerk, to conceal his confusion,
busied himself settling the ladies, but Philip the coachman became
sullen, and was bracing himself not to be overawed in future by this
external superiority. He smiled ironically, looking at the raven horse,
and was already deciding in his own mind that this smart trotter in the
_char-à-banc_ was only good for _promenage_, and wouldn’t do thirty
miles straight off in the heat.
The peasants had all got up from the cart and were inquisitively and
mirthfully staring at the meeting of the friends, making their comments
on it.
“They’re pleased, too; haven’t seen each other for a long while,” said
the curly-headed old man with the bast round his hair.
“I say, Uncle Gerasim, if we could take that raven horse now, to cart
the corn, that ’ud be quick work!”
“Look-ee! Is that a woman in breeches?” said one of them, pointing to
Vassenka Veslovsky sitting in a side saddle.
“Nay, a man! See how smartly he’s going it!”
“Eh, lads! seems we’re not going to sleep, then?”
“What chance of sleep today!” said the old man, with a sidelong look at
the sun. “Midday’s past, look-ee! Get your hooks, and come along!”
Chapter 18
Anna looked at Dolly’s thin, care-worn face, with its wrinkles filled
with dust from the road, and she was on the point of saying what she
was thinking, that is, that Dolly had got thinner. But, conscious that
she herself had grown handsomer, and that Dolly’s eyes were telling her
so, she sighed and began to speak about herself.
“You are looking at me,” she said, “and wondering how I can be happy in
my position? Well! it’s shameful to confess, but I ... I’m inexcusably
happy. Something magical has happened to me, like a dream, when you’re
frightened, panic-stricken, and all of a sudden you wake up and all the
horrors are no more. I have waked up. I have lived through the misery,
the dread, and now for a long while past, especially since we’ve been
here, I’ve been so happy!...” she said, with a timid smile of inquiry
looking at Dolly.
“How glad I am!” said Dolly smiling, involuntarily speaking more coldly
than she wanted to. “I’m very glad for you. Why haven’t you written to
me?”
“Why?... Because I hadn’t the courage.... You forget my position....”
“To me? Hadn’t the courage? If you knew how I ... I look at....”
Darya Alexandrovna wanted to express her thoughts of the morning, but
for some reason it seemed to her now out of place to do so.
“But of that we’ll talk later. What’s this, what are all these
buildings?” she asked, wanting to change the conversation and pointing
to the red and green roofs that came into view behind the green hedges
of acacia and lilac. “Quite a little town.”
But Anna did not answer.
“No, no! How do you look at my position, what do you think of it?” she
asked.
“I consider....” Darya Alexandrovna was beginning, but at that instant
Vassenka Veslovsky, having brought the cob to gallop with the right leg
foremost, galloped past them, bumping heavily up and down in his short
jacket on the chamois leather of the side saddle. “He’s doing it, Anna
Arkadyevna!” he shouted.
Anna did not even glance at him; but again it seemed to Darya
Alexandrovna out of place to enter upon such a long conversation in the
carriage, and so she cut short her thought.
“I don’t think anything,” she said, “but I always loved you, and if one
loves anyone, one loves the whole person, just as they are and not as
one would like them to be....”
Anna, taking her eyes off her friend’s face and dropping her eyelids
(this was a new habit Dolly had not seen in her before), pondered,
trying to penetrate the full significance of the words. And obviously
interpreting them as she would have wished, she glanced at Dolly.
“If you had any sins,” she said, “they would all be forgiven you for
your coming to see me and these words.”
And Dolly saw that tears stood in her eyes. She pressed Anna’s hand in
silence.
“Well, what are these buildings? How many there are of them!” After a
moment’s silence she repeated her question.
“These are the servants’ houses, barns, and stables,” answered Anna.
“And there the park begins. It had all gone to ruin, but Alexey had
everything renewed. He is very fond of this place, and, what I never
expected, he has become intensely interested in looking after it. But
his is such a rich nature! Whatever he takes up, he does splendidly. So
far from being bored by it, he works with passionate interest. He—with
his temperament as I know it—he has become careful and businesslike, a
first-rate manager, he positively reckons every penny in his management
of the land. But only in that. When it’s a question of tens of
thousands, he doesn’t think of money.” She spoke with that gleefully
sly smile with which women often talk of the secret characteristics
only known to them—of those they love. “Do you see that big building?
that’s the new hospital. I believe it will cost over a hundred
thousand; that’s his hobby just now. And do you know how it all came
about? The peasants asked him for some meadowland, I think it was, at a
cheaper rate, and he refused, and I accused him of being miserly. Of
course it was not really because of that, but everything together, he
began this hospital to prove, do you see, that he was not miserly about
money. _C’est une petitesse_, if you like, but I love him all the more
for it. And now you’ll see the house in a moment. It was his
grandfather’s house, and he has had nothing changed outside.”
“How beautiful!” said Dolly, looking with involuntary admiration at the
handsome house with columns, standing out among the different-colored
greens of the old trees in the garden.
“Isn’t it fine? And from the house, from the top, the view is
wonderful.”
They drove into a courtyard strewn with gravel and bright with flowers,
in which two laborers were at work putting an edging of stones round
the light mould of a flower bed, and drew up in a covered entry.
“Ah, they’re here already!” said Anna, looking at the saddle horses,
which were just being led away from the steps. “It is a nice horse,
isn’t it? It’s my cob; my favorite. Lead him here and bring me some
sugar. Where is the count?” she inquired of two smart footmen who
darted out. “Ah, there he is!” she said, seeing Vronsky coming to meet
her with Veslovsky.
“Where are you going to put the princess?” said Vronsky in French,
addressing Anna, and without waiting for a reply, he once more greeted
Darya Alexandrovna, and this time he kissed her hand. “I think the big
balcony room.”
“Oh, no, that’s too far off! Better in the corner room, we shall see
each other more. Come, let’s go up,” said Anna, as she gave her
favorite horse the sugar the footman had brought her.
“_Et vous oubliez votre devoir_,” she said to Veslovsky, who came out
too on the steps.
“_Pardon, j’en ai tout plein les poches_,” he answered, smiling,
putting his fingers in his waistcoat pocket.
“_Mais vous venez trop tard_,” she said, rubbing her handkerchief on
her hand, which the horse had made wet in taking the sugar.
Anna turned to Dolly. “You can stay some time? For one day only? That’s
impossible!”
“I promised to be back, and the children....” said Dolly, feeling
embarrassed both because she had to get her bag out of the carriage,
and because she knew her face must be covered with dust.
“No, Dolly, darling!... Well, we’ll see. Come along, come along!” and
Anna led Dolly to her room.
That room was not the smart guest chamber Vronsky had suggested, but
the one of which Anna had said that Dolly would excuse it. And this
room, for which excuse was needed, was more full of luxury than any in
which Dolly had ever stayed, a luxury that reminded her of the best
hotels abroad.
“Well, darling, how happy I am!” Anna said, sitting down in her riding
habit for a moment beside Dolly. “Tell me about all of you. Stiva I had
only a glimpse of, and he cannot tell one about the children. How is my
favorite, Tanya? Quite a big girl, I expect?”
“Yes, she’s very tall,” Darya Alexandrovna answered shortly, surprised
herself that she should respond so coolly about her children. “We are
having a delightful stay at the Levins’,” she added.
“Oh, if I had known,” said Anna, “that you do not despise me!... You
might have all come to us. Stiva’s an old friend and a great friend of
Alexey’s, you know,” she added, and suddenly she blushed.
“Yes, but we are all....” Dolly answered in confusion.
“But in my delight I’m talking nonsense. The one thing, darling, is
that I am so glad to have you!” said Anna, kissing her again. “You
haven’t told me yet how and what you think about me, and I keep wanting
to know. But I’m glad you will see me as I am. The chief thing I
shouldn’t like would be for people to imagine I want to prove anything.
I don’t want to prove anything; I merely want to live, to do no one
harm but myself. I have the right to do that, haven’t I? But it is a
big subject, and we’ll talk over everything properly later. Now I’ll go
and dress and send a maid to you.”
Chapter 19
Left alone, Darya Alexandrovna, with a good housewife’s eye, scanned
her room. All she had seen in entering the house and walking through
it, and all she saw now in her room, gave her an impression of wealth
and sumptuousness and of that modern European luxury of which she had
only read in English novels, but had never seen in Russia and in the
country. Everything was new from the new French hangings on the walls
to the carpet which covered the whole floor. The bed had a spring