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

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      The family doctor listened attentively and respectfully to the end.

      ‘But in favour of a journey abroad I should like to mention the change of habits, and the removal from surroundings which awaken memories. Besides which, the mother wishes it,’ said he.

      ‘Ah, in that case let them go, only those German quacks will do mischief… . They must obey… . However, let them go.’

      He again glanced at his watch. ‘I must be going!’ he said, moving toward the door.

      The celebrity informed the Princess (his sense of what was fitting suggested this to him) that he would have to see the patient again.

      ‘What, another examination?’ exclaimed the mother, horror-struck.

      ‘Oh no, I must only find out a few details, Princess.’

      ‘If you please, doctor.’

      And the mother, followed by the doctor, entered the room in the middle of which Kitty was standing. Her thin cheeks were flushed and her eyes were burning after the ordeal she had endured. When the doctor entered she blushed all over and her eyes filled with tears. Her whole illness and the treatment appeared to her stupid and even ridiculous. Her treatment seemed to her as absurd as piecing together the bits of a smashed vase. Her heart was broken. Why did they want to dose her with pills and powders? But she did not want to pain her mother, especially as her mother considered herself to blame.

      ‘Sit down, please, Princess,’ said the celebrity.

      He sat down opposite to her, smiling, felt her pulse and again began asking tiresome questions. She answered him, but suddenly grew angry and rose.

      ‘Excuse me, doctor, but really this won’t lead to anything. You are asking me the same things three times over.’ The celebrity was not offended.

      ‘It’s only the excitability of an invalid,’ he said to the mother after Kitty had gone out. ‘And I had finished.’

      And to the Princess, as to an exceptionally intelligent woman, the doctor diagnosed Kitty’s condition in learned language, and concluded with directions how the unnecessary waters were to be drunk.

      In reply to the question whether they should go abroad, the doctor thought deeply, as if solving a difficult problem, and at last he decided that they should go, but should not believe the quacks, and when in doubt should always refer to him.

      It was just as if something pleasant had happened when the doctor had gone, and Kitty too pretended to be cheerful. She often now, almost always, had to pretend.

      ‘Really, Mama! I am quite well. But if you wish to travel, let us go!’ and trying to appear interested in the journey she began to talk about the preparations for it.

      Chapter 2

      JUST after the doctor had left, Dolly came. She knew that there was to be a consultation that day, and though she had only recently got up after a confinement (she had given birth to a daughter at the end of the winter), and though she had many troubles and cares of her own, she left her baby and another little girl of hers who was ill, and called to hear Kitty’s fate, which was to be decided that day.

      ‘Well, how is she?’ she said, entering the drawing-room without removing her bonnet. ‘You are all cheerful, so it must be all right!’

      They tried to tell her what the doctor had said, but it turned out that though he had spoken very fluently and at great length, it was impossible to reproduce what he had said. The only thing of interest was that it had been decided they should go abroad.

      Dolly could not suppress a sigh. Her best friend, her sister, was going away; and as it was, her life was not a bright one. Her relations with her husband after their reconciliation had become humiliating. Anna’s soldering had not proved durable, and the family harmony had broken again at the same place. There was nothing definite, but Oblonsky was hardly ever at home, there was hardly ever any money, and suspicions of his infidelity continually tormented Dolly, who tried to repel them, fearing the already familiar pangs of jealousy. The first explosion of jealousy, once past, could not be repeated. Not even the discovery of an act of infidelity could again affect her as it had done the first time. Such a discovery could now only deprive her of her accustomed family life, and she let herself be deceived, despising him, and especially herself, for such weakness. Added to this the care of a large family worried her continually: either something went wrong with the feeding of the baby, or the nurse left, or, as now, one of the children fell ill.

      ‘And how are you all getting on?’ asked her mother.

      ‘Ah, Mama, we have plenty of trouble of our own. Lily has fallen ill, and I’m afraid it’s scarlet fever. I have come out to-day to hear the news, because I shall not come out at all if (which God forbid!) it really is scarlet fever.’

      The old Prince came out of his study after the doctor had gone, and after giving his cheek to Dolly and greeting her he turned to his wife:

      ‘Well, have you made up your minds to go? And what are you going to do with me?’

      ‘I think you should stay behind, Alexander,’ replied his wife.

      ‘As you please.’

      ‘‘Mama, why should not Papa come with us?’ said Kitty, ‘It would be pleasanter for him and for us too.’

      The old Prince rose and stroked Kitty’s hair. She lifted her face and, forcing a smile, looked up at him. She always felt that he understood her better than anyone else in the family, though he did not speak much to her. Being the youngest she was his favourite, and it seemed to her that his affection gave him insight. When her gaze now met his kindly blue eyes looking steadily at her, it seemed to her that he saw right through her, and knew all the trouble that was in her. She bent toward him, blushing, and expecting a kiss, but he only patted her on the head and remarked:

      ‘These stupid chignons! One can’t get at one’s real daughter, but only caresses the hair of expired females. Well, Dolly,’ he said, turning to his eldest daughter, ‘and what is your prodigal about?’

      ‘Nothing particular, Papa,’ answered Dolly, understanding that he referred to her husband. ‘He is always out, I hardly see him,’ — she could not resist adding with an ironical smile.

      ‘And has he not yet gone to the country to sell the forest?’

      ‘No, he is always preparing to go.’

      ‘Dear me!’ said the Prince. ‘And so I am also to prepare? I’m all obedience,’ he said to his wife, as he sat down again. ‘And look here, Kate,’ he went on, turning to his youngest daughter: ‘You must wake up one fine morning and say to yourself: “Why, I am quite well and happy, and will go out to walk in the frost again with Papa.” Eh?’

      Her father’s words seemed very simple, but they made Kitty feel as confused and flurried as a detected criminal. ‘Yes, he knows and understands it all, and in these words is telling me that, though I am ashamed, I must get over my shame.’ She could not gather spirit enough to reply. She made an attempt, but suddenly burst into tears and ran away.

      The Princess flew at her husband: ‘That comes of your jokes. You always … and she began reproaching him.

      The Prince listened for some time to her rebukes in silence, but his face frowned more and more.

      ‘She is so pitiful, poor thing, so pitiful, and you don’t feel that every allusion to what has caused it hurts her. Oh dear, oh dear, to be so mistaken in anyone!’ said the Princess, and from the change in her tone both Dolly and the Prince knew that she was thinking of Vronsky. ‘I can’t think why we have no laws to punish such horrid, ignoble people.’

      ‘Oh, it makes me sick to hear it!’ muttered the Prince gloomily, rising as if he meant to go away, but stopping at the door. ‘The laws are there, my dear, and since you have invited it I will