“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 mattress, and a
special sort of bolster and silk pillowcases on the little pillows. The marble
washstand, the dressing table, the little sofa, the tables, the bronze clock on
the chimney piece, the window curtains, and the portières were all new and
expensive.
The smart maid, who came in to offer her services, with her hair done up
high, and a gown more fashionable than Dolly’s, was as new and expensive
as the whole room. Darya Alexandrovna liked her neatness, her deferential
and obliging manners, but she felt ill at ease with her. She felt ashamed of
her seeing the patched dressing jacket that had unluckily been packed by
mistake for her. She was ashamed of the very patches and darned places of
which she had been so proud at home. At home it had been so clear that for
six dressing jackets there would be needed twenty-four yards of nainsook at
sixteen pence the yard, which was a matter of thirty shillings besides the
cutting-out and making, and these thirty shillings had been saved. But
before the maid she felt, if not exactly ashamed, at least uncomfortable.
Darya Alexandrovna had a great sense of relief when Annushka, whom
she had known for years, walked in. The smart maid was sent for to go to
her mistress, and Annushka remained with Darya Alexandrovna.
Annushka was obviously much pleased at that lady’s arrival, and began
to chatter away without a pause. Dolly observed that she was longing to
express her opinion in regard to her mistress’s position, especially as to the
love and devotion of the count to Anna Arkadyevna, but Dolly carefully
interrupted her whenever she began to speak about this.
“I grew up with Anna Arkadyevna; my lady’s dearer to me than anything.
Well, it’s not for us to judge. And, to be sure, there seems so much love….”
“Kindly pour out the water for me to wash now, please,” Darya
Alexandrovna cut her short.
“Certainly. We’ve two women kept specially for washing small things,
but most of the linen’s done by machinery. The count goes into everything
himself. Ah, what a husband!…”
Dolly was glad when Anna came in, and by her entrance put a stop to
Annushka’s gossip.
Anna had put on a very simple batiste gown. Dolly scrutinized that
simple gown attentively. She knew what it meant, and the price at which
such simplicity was obtained.
“An old friend,” said Anna of Annushka.
Anna was not embarrassed now. She was perfectly composed and at ease.
Dolly saw that she had now completely recovered from the impression her
arrival had made on her, and had assumed that superficial, careless tone
which, as it were, closed the door on that compartment in which her deeper
feelings and ideas were kept.
“Well, Anna, and how is your little girl?” asked Dolly.
“Annie?” (This was what she called her little daughter Anna.) “Very well.
She has got on wonderfully. Would you like to see her? Come, I’ll show her
to you. We had a terrible bother,” she began telling her, “over nurses. We
had an Italian wet-nurse. A good creature, but so stupid! We wanted to get
rid of her, but the baby is so used to her that we’ve gone on keeping her
still.”
“But how have you managed?…” Dolly was beginning a question as to
what name the little girl would have; but noticing a sudden frown on Anna’s
face, she changed the drift of her question.
“How did you manage? have you weaned her yet?”
But Anna had understood.
“You didn’t mean to ask that? You meant to ask about her surname. Yes?
That worries Alexey. She has no name—that is, she’s a Karenina,” said
Anna, dropping her eyelids till nothing could be seen but the eyelashes
meeting. “But we’ll talk about all that later,” her face suddenly brightening.
“Come, I’ll show you her. Elle est très gentille. She crawls now.”
In the nursery the luxury which had impressed Dolly in the whole house
struck her still more. There were little go-carts ordered from England, and
appliances for learning to walk, and a sofa after the fashion of a billiard
table, purposely constructed for crawling, and swings and baths, all of
special pattern, and modern. They were all English, solid, and of good
make, and obviously very expensive. The room was large, and very light
and lofty.
When they went in, the baby, with nothing on but her little smock, was
sitting in a little elbow chair at the table, having her dinner of broth, which
she was spilling all over her little chest. The baby was being fed, and the
Russian nursery maid was evidently sharing her meal. Neither the wet-nurse
nor the head-nurse were there; they were in the next room, from which
came the sound of their conversation in the queer French which was their
only means of communication.
Hearing Anna’s voice, a smart, tall, English nurse with a disagreeable
face and a dissolute expression walked in at the door, hurriedly shaking her
fair curls, and immediately began to defend herself though Anna had not
found fault with her. At every word Anna said, the English nurse said
hurriedly several times, “Yes, my lady.”
The rosy baby with her black eyebrows and hair, her sturdy red little
body with tight goose-flesh skin, delighted Darya Alexandrovna in spite of
the cross expression with which she stared at the stranger. She positively
envied the baby’s healthy appearance. She was delighted, too, at the baby’s
crawling. Not one of her own children had crawled like that. When the baby
was put on the carpet and its little dress tucked up behind, it was
wonderfully charming. Looking round like some little wild animal at the
grown-up big people with her bright black eyes, she smiled, unmistakably
pleased at their admiring her, and holding her legs sideways, she pressed
vigorously on her arms, and rapidly drew her whole back up after, and then
made another step forward with her little arms.
But the whole atmosphere of the nursery, and especially the English
nurse, Darya Alexandrovna did not like at all. It was only on the supposition
that no good nurse would have entered so irregular a household as Anna’s
that Darya Alexandrovna could explain to herself how Anna with her
insight into people could take such an unprepossessing, disreputable-
looking woman as nurse to her child.
Besides, from a few words that were dropped, Darya Alexandrovna saw
at once that Anna, the two nurses, and the child had no common existence,
and that the mother’s visit was something exceptional. Anna wanted to get
the baby her plaything, and could not find it.
Most amazing of all was the fact that on being asked how many teeth the
baby had, Anna answered wrong, and knew nothing about the two last teeth.
“I sometimes feel sorry I’m so superfluous here,” said Anna, going out of
the nursery and holding up her skirt so as to escape the plaything standing
in the doorway. “It was very different with my first child.”
“I expected it to be the other way,” said Darya Alexandrovna shyly.
“Oh, no! By the way, do you know I saw Seryozha?” said Anna,
screwing up her eyes, as though looking at something far away. “But we’ll
talk about that later. You wouldn’t believe it, I’m like a hungry beggar
woman when a full dinner is set before her, and she does not know what to
begin on first. The dinner is you, and the talks I have before me with you,
which I could never have with anyone else; and I don’t know which subject
to begin upon first. Mais je ne vous ferai grâce de rien. I must have
everything out with you.”
“Oh, I ought to give you a sketch of the company you will meet with us,”
she went on. “I’ll begin with the ladies. Princess Varvara—you know her,
and I know your opinion and Stiva’s about her. Stiva says the whole aim of
her existence is to prove her superiority over Auntie Katerina Pavlovna:
that’s all true; but she’s a good-natured woman, and I am so grateful to her.
In Petersburg there was a moment when a chaperon was absolutely essential
for me. Then she turned up. But really she is good-natured. She did a great
deal to alleviate my position. I see you don’t understand all the difficulty of
my position … there in Petersburg,” she added. “Here I’m perfectly at ease
and happy. Well, of that later on, though. Then Sviazhsky—he’s the marshal
