Anna Karenina (Louise Maude's Translation). Leo Tolstoy

by another woman …’

      ‘Excuse me, but really I … it’s quite incomprehensible to me. It’s as if … just as incomprehensible as if I, after eating my fill here, went into a baker’s shop and stole a roll.’

      Oblonsky’s eyes glittered more than usual.

      ‘Why not? Rolls sometimes smell so that one can’t resist them!’

      ‘Himmlisch ist’s, wenn ich bezwungen

      Meine irdische Begier;

      Aber doch wenn’s nicht gelungen

      Hatt’ ich auch recht hübsch Plaisir!’

      [‘It is heavenly when I have mastered

      My earthly desires;

      But even when I have not succeeded,

      I have also had right good pleasure!’]

      Oblonsky repeated these lines with a subtle smile and Levin himself could not help smiling.

      ‘No, but joking apart,’ continued Oblonsky, ‘just consider. A woman, a dear, gentle, affectionate creature, poor and lonely, sacrifices everything. Now when the thing is done … just consider, should one forsake her? Granted that one ought to part with her so as not to destroy one’s family life, but oughtn’t one to pity her and provide for her and make things easier?’

      ‘As to that, you must pardon me. You know that for me there are two kinds of women … or rather, no! There are women, and there are … I have never seen any charming fallen creatures, and never shall see any; and people like that painted Frenchwoman with her curls out there by the counter, are an abomination to me, and all these fallen ones are like her.’

      ‘And the one in the Gospels?’

      ‘Oh, don’t! Christ would never have spoken those words, had he known how they would be misused! They are the only words in the Gospels that seem to be remembered. However, I am not saying what I think, but what I feel. I have a horror of fallen women. You are repelled by spiders and I by those creatures. Probably you never studied spiders and know nothing of their morals; and it’s the same in my case!’

      ‘It’s all very well for you to talk like that — it’s like that gentleman in Dickens, who with his left hand threw all difficult questions over his right shoulder. But denying a fact is no answer. What am I to do? Tell me, what am I to do? My wife is getting old, and I am full of vitality. A man hardly has time to turn round, before he feels that he can no longer love his wife in that way, whatever his regard for her may be. And then all of a sudden love crosses your path, and you’re lost, lost!’ said Oblonsky with despair.

      Levin smiled.

      ‘Yes, I am lost,’ continued Oblonsky. ‘But what am I to do?’

      ‘Don’t steal rolls.’

      Oblonsky burst out laughing.

      ‘Oh, you moralist! But just consider, here are two women: one insists only on her rights, and her rights are your love, which you cannot give her; and the other sacrifices herself and demands nothing. What are you to do? How are you to act? It is a terrible tragedy.’

      ‘If you want me to say what I think of it, I can only tell you that I don’t believe in the tragedy. And the reason is this: I think love, both kinds of love, which you remember Plato defines in his “Symposium” — both kinds of love serve as a touchstone for men. Some men understand only the one, some only the other. Those who understand only the non-platonic love need not speak of tragedy. For such love there can be no tragedy. “Thank you kindly for the pleasure, goodbye,” and that’s the whole tragedy. And for the platonic love there can be no tragedy either, because there everything is clear and pure, because …’ Here Levin recollecting his own sins and the inner struggle he had lived through added unexpectedly, ‘However, maybe you are right. It may very well be. But I don’t know, I really don’t know.’

      ‘Well, you see you are very consistent,’ said Oblonsky. ‘It is both a virtue and a fault in you. You have a consistent character yourself and you wish all the facts of life to be consistent, but they never are. For instance you despise public service because you want work always to correspond to its aims, and that never happens. You also want the activity of each separate man to have an aim, and love and family life always to coincide — and that doesn’t happen either. All the variety, charm and beauty of life are made up of light and shade.’

      Levin sighed and did not answer. He was thinking of his own affairs and not listening to Oblonsky.

      And suddenly both felt that though they were friends, and had dined and drunk wine together which should have drawn them yet closer, yet each was thinking only of his own affairs and was not concerned with the other.

      Oblonsky had more than once experienced this kind of acute estrangement instead of union following a dinner with a friend, and knew what to do in such a case.

      ‘The bill!’ he shouted and went out into the dining-hall, where he immediately saw an aide-de-camp of his acquaintance, and entered into conversation with him about an actress and her protector. And immediately in conversation with the aide-de-camp Oblonsky felt relief and rest after the talk with Levin, who always demanded of him too great a mental and spiritual strain.

      When the Tartar returned with a bill for twenty-six roubles odd, Levin quite unconcernedly paid his share, which with the tip came to fourteen roubles, a sum that usually would have horrified his rustic conscience, and went home to dress and go on to the Shcherbatskys’ where his fate was to be decided.

      Chapter 12

      PRINCESS KITTY SHCHERBATSKAYA was eighteen, and this was her first season. Her success in Society was greater than that of her two elder sisters, and greater even than her mother had expected. Not only were nearly all the youths that danced at the Moscow balls in love with Kitty, but two serious suitors presented themselves for her that very first winter: Levin and, immediately after his departure, Count Vronsky.

      Levin’s arrival at the beginning of the winter, his frequent visits and evident love for Kitty gave rise to her parents’ first serious deliberation as to her future, and to disputes between them. The Prince took Levin’s part and said he desired nothing better for Kitty. The Princess with a woman’s way of talking round the question said that Kitty was too young, that Levin had not shown that his intentions were serious, that Kitty was not in love with him, and so on; but she did not say the most important things, namely that she expected a better match for her daughter, that she did not like Levin and did not understand him. When he suddenly left, the Princess was pleased and triumphantly said to her husband, ‘You see, I was right!’ When Vronsky appeared she was still more pleased and was strengthened in her opinion that Kitty ought to make not only a good but a brilliant match.

      In the mother’s eyes there was no comparison between Levin and Vronsky. She did not like Levin’s strange and harsh criticisms, his awkward manner in Society which she attributed to pride, and what she considered his strange way of life in the country, occupied with cattle and peasants; in particular she did not like the fact that when he was in love with her daughter he came to the house for six weeks as if waiting and looking out for something, afraid of doing them too great an honour by making an offer of marriage, and that he did not understand that, if he visited at a house where there was a marriageable girl, he ought to declare his intentions. And then suddenly he left without proposing!

      ‘It’s a good thing he is so unattractive, and that Kitty has not fallen in love with him,’ thought her mother.

      Vronsky satisfied all the mother’s desires: he was very rich, clever, distinguished, with a brilliant military career before him, a position at Court, and altogether was an enchanting man. Nothing better could be desired.

      Vronsky was openly attentive to Kitty when they met at balls, danced with her, and came to the house, so there could be no doubt as to the seriousness of his intentions. But in spite of this the mother was in a dreadful state of anxiety