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

doorway.

      When he returned a few minutes later Oblonsky was already talking to the Countess about the new opera singer, while she was impatiently glancing at the door in expectation of her son.

      ‘Now let’s go,’ said Vronsky as he came in.

      They went together, Vronsky walking in front with his mother, Mrs. Karenina following with her brother. At the exit the station-master overtook them, and said to Vronsky:

      ‘You gave my assistant 200 roubles. Please be so kind as to say whom you intended it for.’

      ‘For the widow,’ said Vronsky, shrugging his shoulders. ‘I don’t understand what need there is to ask.’

      ‘You have given it!’ exclaimed Oblonsky behind Vronsky, and pressing his sister’s arm he added, ‘Very kind, very kind! Isn’t he a fine fellow? My respects to you, Countess,’ and he remained behind with his sister, seeking her maid.

      When they came out, the Vronskys’ carriage had already started. The people coming from the station were still talking about the accident.

      ‘What a terrible death!’ said some gentleman as he passed them; ‘cut in half, I hear.’

      ‘On the contrary, I think it is a very easy death, instantaneous,’ said another.

      ‘How is it that precautions are not taken?’ said a third.

      Mrs. Karenina got into her brother’s carriage, and Oblonsky noticed with surprise that her lips were trembling and that it was with difficulty she kept back her tears.

      ‘What is the matter with you, Anna?’ he asked when they had gone a few hundred yards.

      ‘It’s a bad omen,’ she replied.

      ‘What nonsense!’ said Oblonsky. ‘You’re here, and that is the chief thing. You can’t think how my hopes rest on you.’

      ‘And have you known Vronsky long?’ she asked.

      ‘Yes. Do you know we hope he will marry Kitty?’

      ‘Yes?’ said Anna softly. ‘But let us talk about your affairs,’ she added, shaking her head as if she wished physically to drive away something superfluous that hampered her. ‘Let us talk of your affairs. I’ve received your letter and have come.’

      ‘Yes, all my hopes are fixed on you,’ said her brother.

      ‘Well, tell me all about it.’

      And Oblonsky began his story.

      On reaching his house, he helped his sister out of the carriage, pressed her hand, and drove off to his office.

      Chapter 19

      WHEN Anna arrived Dolly was sitting in her little drawing-room giving a fair-haired, plump little boy (who already resembled his father) a French reading-lesson. The boy, as he read, kept twisting and trying to pull off a loose button that hung from his jacket. His mother moved his plump little hand away several times, but it always returned to the button. At last she pulled the button off and put it into her pocket.

      ‘Keep your hands quiet, Grisha,’ she said, and again took up the rug she was knitting, a piece of work begun long ago, to which she always returned in times of trouble, and which she was now knitting, nervously throwing the stitches over with her fingers and counting them. Though she had sent word to her husband the day before that she did not care whether his sister came or not, she had prepared everything for her visit and awaited her with agitation.

      Dolly was overpowered by her sorrow and was quite absorbed by it. Nevertheless, she remembered that her sister-in-law, Anna, was the wife of one of the most important men in Petersburg, and a grande dame. Thanks to that circumstance she did not carry out her threat to her husband, and did not forget that her sister-in-law was coming.

      ‘After all, it is not in the least Anna’s fault,’ thought she. ‘I know nothing but good about her, and she has never shown me anything but kindness and friendship.’

      It was true that, as far as she could remember her visit to the Karenins in Petersburg, she had not liked their house: there seemed to be something false in the tone of their family life. ‘But why should I not receive her? If only she does not try to console me!’ thought Dolly. ‘All these consolations and exhortations and Christian forgiveness, I have considered them a thousand times, and they are all no good.’

      All these last days Dolly had been alone with her children. She did not wish to talk about her sorrow, yet with that on her mind she could not talk about indifferent matters. She knew that, one way or another, she would tell Anna everything, and now it pleased her to think how she would say it, and then she felt vexed to have to speak of her humiliation to her — his sister — and to hear from her set phrases of exhortation and consolation.

      As it often happens, though she kept looking at the clock, waiting for Anna, she let the moment when her visitor arrived go by without even hearing the bell.

      And when she heard soft steps and the rustle of petticoats already in the doorway, she looked round with an expression not of pleasure but of surprise on her careworn face. She rose and embraced her sister-in-law.

      ‘So you’re here already?’ she said, kissing her.

      ‘Dolly, I am so pleased to see you!’

      ‘And I am pleased too,’ said Dolly with a feeble smile, trying to guess from Anna’s expression how much she knew. ‘She must know,’ she thought, noticing the look of sympathy on Anna’s face.

      ‘Come, let me take you to your room,’ she went on, trying to put off as long as possible the moment for explanation.

      ‘This is Grisha? Dear me, how he has grown!’ said Anna, and having kissed him, she stood with her eyes fixed on Dolly and blushed. ‘No, please do not let us go anywhere.’

      She took off her shawl and her hat and, having caught it in her black and very curly hair, shook her head to disengage it.

      ‘And you are radiant with joy and health!’ said Dolly almost enviously.

      ‘I? … yes,’ said Anna. ‘Why, dear me, here is Tanya! You’re just the same age as my little Serezha,’ she added, turning to the little girl who had run into the room, and, taking her in her arms, Anna kissed her. ‘Sweet girlie! darling! Let me see them all.’

      She not only mentioned them all by name, but remembered the years and even the months of their births, their characters, and what illnesses they had had; and Dolly could not help appreciating this.

      ‘Shall we go and see them?’ she said. ‘It is a pity Vasya is asleep.’

      Having looked at the children they returned to the drawing-room and, being now alone, sat down to coffee at the table. Anna took hold of the tray, but then pushed it aside.

      ‘Dolly,’ she said, ‘he has told me!’

      Dolly looked coldly at Anna. She expected now to hear words of insincere sympathy: but Anna said nothing of the kind.

      ‘Dolly dear!’ she began, ‘I do not wish to take his part or console you; that would be impossible, but, dearest, I am simply sorry for you, sorry from the bottom of my heart!’

      Her bright eyes under their thick lashes suddenly filled with tears. She moved closer to her sister-in-law and with her energetic little hand took hold of Dolly’s. The latter did not draw back from her but her face retained its rigid expression. She said:

      ‘It is impossible to console me. Everything is lost after what has happened, everything destroyed!’

      As soon as she had said it her face softened. Anna lifted Dolly’s dry thin hand, kissed it, and said:

      ‘But what is to be done, Dolly, what is to be done? What is the best way of acting in this dreadful position? That is what one has to consider.’

      ‘Everything