Chapter 9
“Oblonsky’s carriage!” the porter shouted in an angry bass. The carriage
drove up and both got in. It was only for the first few moments, while the
carriage was driving out of the clubhouse gates, that Levin was still under
the influence of the club atmosphere of repose, comfort, and unimpeachable
good form. But as soon as the carriage drove out into the street, and he felt
it jolting over the uneven road, heard the angry shout of a sledge driver
coming towards them, saw in the uncertain light the red blind of a tavern
and the shops, this impression was dissipated, and he began to think over
his actions, and to wonder whether he was doing right in going to see Anna.
What would Kitty say? But Stepan Arkadyevitch gave him no time for
reflection, and, as though divining his doubts, he scattered them.
“How glad I am,” he said, “that you should know her! You know Dolly
has long wished for it. And Lvov’s been to see her, and often goes. Though
she is my sister,” Stepan Arkadyevitch pursued, “I don’t hesitate to say that
she’s a remarkable woman. But you will see. Her position is very painful,
especially now.”
“Why especially now?”
“We are carrying on negotiations with her husband about a divorce. And
he’s agreed; but there are difficulties in regard to the son, and the business,
which ought to have been arranged long ago, has been dragging on for three
months past. As soon as the divorce is over, she will marry Vronsky. How
stupid these old ceremonies are, that no one believes in, and which only
prevent people being comfortable!” Stepan Arkadyevitch put in. “Well, then
their position will be as regular as mine, as yours.”
“What is the difficulty?” said Levin.
“Oh, it’s a long and tedious story! The whole business is in such an
anomalous position with us. But the point is she has been for three months
in Moscow, where everyone knows her, waiting for the divorce; she goes
out nowhere, sees no woman except Dolly, because, do you understand, she
doesn’t care to have people come as a favor. That fool Princess Varvara,
even she has left her, considering this a breach of propriety. Well, you see,
in such a position any other woman would not have found resources in
herself. But you’ll see how she has arranged her life—how calm, how
dignified she is. To the left, in the crescent opposite the church!” shouted
Stepan Arkadyevitch, leaning out of the window. “Phew! how hot it is!” he
said, in spite of twelve degrees of frost, flinging his open overcoat still
wider open.
“But she has a daughter: no doubt she’s busy looking after her?” said
Levin.
“I believe you picture every woman simply as a female, une couveuse,”
said Stepan Arkadyevitch. “If she’s occupied, it must be with her children.
No, she brings her up capitally, I believe, but one doesn’t hear about her.
She’s busy, in the first place, with what she writes. I see you’re smiling
ironically, but you’re wrong. She’s writing a children’s book, and doesn’t
talk about it to anyone, but she read it to me and I gave the manuscript to
Vorkuev … you know the publisher … and he’s an author himself too, I
fancy. He understands those things, and he says it’s a remarkable piece of
work. But are you fancying she’s an authoress?—not a bit of it. She’s a
woman with a heart, before everything, but you’ll see. Now she has a little
English girl with her, and a whole family she’s looking after.”
“Oh, something in a philanthropic way?”
“Why, you will look at everything in the worst light. It’s not from
philanthropy, it’s from the heart. They—that is, Vronsky—had a trainer, an
Englishman, first-rate in his own line, but a drunkard. He’s completely
given up to drink—delirium tremens—and the family were cast on the
world. She saw them, helped them, got more and more interested in them,
and now the whole family is on her hands. But not by way of patronage,
you know, helping with money; she’s herself preparing the boys in Russian
for the high school, and she’s taken the little girl to live with her. But you’ll
see her for yourself.”
The carriage drove into the courtyard, and Stepan Arkadyevitch rang
loudly at the entrance where sledges were standing.
And without asking the servant who opened the door whether the lady
were at home, Stepan Arkadyevitch walked into the hall. Levin followed
him, more and more doubtful whether he was doing right or wrong.
Looking at himself in the glass, Levin noticed that he was red in the face,
but he felt certain he was not drunk, and he followed Stepan Arkadyevitch
up the carpeted stairs. At the top Stepan Arkadyevitch inquired of the
footman, who bowed to him as to an intimate friend, who was with Anna
Arkadyevna, and received the answer that it was M. Vorkuev.
