ANNA KARENINA (Collector's Edition). Leo Tolstoy

and got into bed, Levin still lingered in his room talking about various trifles and unable to ask what he wanted to know.

      ‘What wonderful soap they make!’ he said, examining and unwrapping a cake of scented soap Agatha Mikhaylovna had prepared for the visitor, but which Oblonsky had not used. ‘Just look, it is quite a work of art.’

      ‘Yes, yes, there are all sorts of improvements in everything now,’ said Oblonsky with a moist and beautiful yawn. ‘In the theatres for instance and all places of amusement… . Oh, oh, oh!’ he yawned. ‘Electric light everywhere. Oh, oh!’

      ‘Yes, electric light,’ said Levin. ‘Yes, by the by, where is Vronsky now?’ he asked, suddenly putting down the soap.

      ‘Vronsky?’ said Oblonsky, ceasing to yawn. ‘He is in Petersburg. He left soon after you did, and has not been in Moscow once since then. And do you know, Constantine, I will tell you quite frankly,’ he said, leaning his elbow on the table by his bed and supporting on his hand his good-looking, rosy face with its glittering, kind, and sleepy eyes, ‘it was your own fault. You were frightened of a rival. But as I told you then, I do not know who had the better chance. Why did you not make a dash for it? I told you at the time that …’ He yawned, but only with his jaw, without opening his mouth.

      ‘Does he, or does he not, know that I proposed?’ thought Levin, looking at him. ‘Yes, there is something sly and diplomatic in his face,’ and feeling himself blush, he gazed in silence straight into Oblonsky’s eyes.

      ‘If there was anything on her side at that time, it was only the external attraction,’ continued Oblonsky. ‘You know his being a perfect aristocrat and his future position in Society had an effect, not on her but on her mother.’

      Levin frowned. The insult of the refusal he had had to face burned in his heart like a fresh, newly-received wound. But he was at home and the walls of home are helpful.

      ‘Wait, wait,’ he began, interrupting Oblonsky. ‘You talk of his being an aristocrat. But I should like to ask you what is Vronsky’s or anyone else’s aristocracy that I should be slighted because of it? You consider Vronsky an aristocrat. I don’t. A man whose father crawled up from nothing by intrigues and whose mother has had relations with heavens knows whom… . No, pardon me, I consider myself and people like me aristocrats: people who can point back to three or four honourable generations of their family, all with a high standard of education (talent and intelligence are a different matter), who have never cringed before anyone, never depended on anyone, but have lived as my father and my grandfather did. I know many such. You consider it mean for me to count the trees in my wood while you give Ryabinin thirty thousand roubles; but you will receive a Government grant and I don’t know what other rewards, and I shan’t, so I value what is mine by birth and labour… . We — and not those who only manage to exist by the bounty of the mighty of this world, and who can be bought for a piece of silver — are the aristocrats.’

      ‘But whom are you driving at? I agree with you,’ said Oblonsky sincerely and cheerfully, though he felt that Levin ranked him with those who could be bought for silver. Levin’s vehemence sincerely pleased him. ‘Whom are you driving at? Though much of what you say is not true of Vronsky, I am not speaking about that. I want to tell you candidly that if I were you, I’d come to Moscow now with me, and …’

      ‘No … I don’t know if you knew it or not and I don’t care, but I will tell you: I proposed and was refused, and your sister-in-law (Catherine Alexandrovna) is now only a painful and humiliating memory to me.’

      ‘Why? What nonsense!’

      ‘But don’t let us talk about it! Forgive me, please, if I have been rude to you,’ said Levin. Now that he had spoken out he became once more as he had been in the morning. ‘You are not angry with me, Stiva? Please don’t be angry,’ he said smiling, and took his hand.

      ‘Oh no, not at all! There was nothing to be angry about. I am glad we have had this explanation. And, do you know, the shooting in the early morning is often very good. Should we not go? I would not sleep again after it but go straight from there to the station.’

      ‘A capital idea!’

      Chapter 18

      THOUGH Vronsky’s whole inner life was absorbed by his passion, his external life ran unalterably and inevitably along its former customary rails of social and regimental connections and interests. The interests of the regiment occupied an important place in his life, because he was fond of his regiment and still more because the regiment was fond of him. Not only were they fond of him, they respected him too and were proud of him: proud that this man, with his enormous wealth and excellent education and abilities,’ to whom the road to success of all kinds gratifying to ambition or vanity lay open, had disregarded all this, and of all life’s interests had nearest to his heart those of his regiment and his comrades. Vronsky was aware of this attitude of his comrades toward him, and besides liking the life felt bound to justify their view of him.

      It goes without saying that he spoke to none of them about his love, nor did he betray himself even in the wildest drinking-bouts (indeed, he never drank so as to lose all self-control). And he silenced any of his thoughtless comrades who tried to hint at the liaison. But in spite of this, his love affair was known to all the town: everybody guessed more or less correctly what his relations with Anna Karenina were. Most of the young men envied him just on account of what was most trying in the affair, namely Karenin’s high rank and the consequent prominence of the affair in Society.

      The majority of young women, who envied Anna and had long been weary of hearing her virtues praised, were pleased at what they guessed, and only waited to be sure that public opinion had turned before throwing the whole weight of their scorn at her. They already prepared lumps of mud to pelt her with in due time. Most of the older people and of those highly-placed regretted this impending social scandal.

      Vronsky’s mother, on hearing of the matter, was at first pleased, both because in her opinion nothing gave such finishing touches to a brilliant young man as an intrigue in the best Society, and also because this Anna Karenina, who had so taken her fancy and who had talked so much about her little son, was after all such as the Countess Vronsky expected all handsome and well-bred women to be. But latterly she had heard that her son had refused a post of importance for his career, merely to remain with his regiment and be able to see Anna Karenina, and that exalted persons were dissatisfied with him for it, so she changed her opinion. She was also displeased because, from all she heard of it, this affair was not one of those brilliant, graceful, Society liaisons which she approved, but a desperate Werther-like passion which might lead him into doing something foolish. She had not seen him since his sudden departure from Moscow, and through her eldest son she sent him word to come and see her.

      The elder brother was also dissatisfied with the younger. He did not distinguish what kind of love it was, great or small, passionate or passionless, guilty or pure (he himself, the father of a family, kept a ballet girl, and was therefore lenient in these matters): but he knew that it was a love affair which displeased those whom it is necessary to please, and he therefore disapproved of his brother’s conduct.

      Besides his military and social interests Vronsky had another one, namely horses, of which he was passionately fond.

      That year there was to be an officers’ steeplechase, and Vronsky had put down his name, bought an English thoroughbred mare, and, in spite of his love, was passionately, though restrainedly, concerned about the coming races.

      The two passions did not interfere with one another. On the contrary he needed an occupation and an interest apart from his love, in which to refresh himself and find rest from the impressions which agitated him too violently.

      Chapter 19

      ON the day of the Krasnoe Selo races Vronsky came earlier than