Chapter 21
After a capital dinner and a great deal of cognac drunk at Bartnyansky’s,
Stepan Arkadyevitch, only a little later than the appointed time, went in to
Countess Lidia Ivanovna’s.
“Who else is with the countess?—a Frenchman?” Stepan Arkadyevitch
asked the hall-porter, as he glanced at the familiar overcoat of Alexey
Alexandrovitch and a queer, rather artless-looking overcoat with clasps.
“Alexey Alexandrovitch Karenin and Count Bezzubov,” the porter
answered severely.
“Princess Myakaya guessed right,” thought Stepan Arkadyevitch, as he
went upstairs. “Curious! It would be quite as well, though, to get on
friendly terms with her. She has immense influence. If she would say a
word to Pomorsky, the thing would be a certainty.”
It was still quite light out-of-doors, but in Countess Lidia Ivanovna’s
little drawing-room the blinds were drawn and the lamps lighted. At a round
table under a lamp sat the countess and Alexey Alexandrovitch, talking
softly. A short, thinnish man, very pale and handsome, with feminine hips
and knock-kneed legs, with fine brilliant eyes and long hair lying on the
collar of his coat, was standing at the end of the room gazing at the portraits
on the wall. After greeting the lady of the house and Alexey
Alexandrovitch, Stepan Arkadyevitch could not resist glancing once more
at the unknown man.
“Monsieur Landau!” the countess addressed him with a softness and
caution that impressed Oblonsky. And she introduced them.
Landau looked round hurriedly, came up, and smiling, laid his moist,
lifeless hand in Stepan Arkadyevitch’s outstretched hand and immediately
walked away and fell to gazing at the portraits again. The countess and
Alexey Alexandrovitch looked at each other significantly.
“I am very glad to see you, particularly today,” said Countess Lidia
Ivanovna, pointing Stepan Arkadyevitch to a seat beside Karenin.
“I introduced you to him as Landau,” she said in a soft voice, glancing at
the Frenchman and again immediately after at Alexey Alexandrovitch, “but
he is really Count Bezzubov, as you’re probably aware. Only he does not
like the title.”
“Yes, I heard so,” answered Stepan Arkadyevitch; “they say he
completely cured Countess Bezzubova.”
“She was here today, poor thing!” the countess said, turning to Alexey
Alexandrovitch. “This separation is awful for her. It’s such a blow to her!”
“And he positively is going?” queried Alexey Alexandrovitch.
“Yes, he’s going to Paris. He heard a voice yesterday,” said Countess
Lidia Ivanovna, looking at Stepan Arkadyevitch.
“Ah, a voice!” repeated Oblonsky, feeling that he must be as circumspect
as he possibly could in this society, where something peculiar was going on,
or was to go on, to which he had not the key.
A moment’s silence followed, after which Countess Lidia Ivanovna, as
though approaching the main topic of conversation, said with a fine smile to
Oblonsky:
“I’ve known you for a long while, and am very glad to make a closer
acquaintance with you. Les amis de nos amis sont nos amis. But to be a true
friend, one must enter into the spiritual state of one’s friend, and I fear that
you are not doing so in the case of Alexey Alexandrovitch. You understand
what I mean?” she said, lifting her fine pensive eyes.
“In part, countess, I understand the position of Alexey Alexandrovitch….”
said Oblonsky. Having no clear idea what they were talking about, he
wanted to confine himself to generalities.
“The change is not in his external position,” Countess Lidia Ivanovna
said sternly, following with eyes of love the figure of Alexey
Alexandrovitch as he got up and crossed over to Landau; “his heart is
changed, a new heart has been vouchsafed him, and I fear you don’t fully
apprehend the change that has taken place in him.”
“Oh, well, in general outlines I can conceive the change. We have always
been friendly, and now….” said Stepan Arkadyevitch, responding with a
sympathetic glance to the expression of the countess, and mentally
balancing the question with which of the two ministers she was most
intimate, so as to know about which to ask her to speak for him.
“The change that has taken place in him cannot lessen his love for his
neighbors; on the contrary, that change can only intensify love in his heart.
But I am afraid you do not understand me. Won’t you have some tea?” she
said, with her eyes indicating the footman, who was handing round tea on a
tray.
“Not quite, countess. Of course, his misfortune….”
“Yes, a misfortune which has proved the highest happiness, when his
heart was made new, was filled full of it,” she said, gazing with eyes full of
love at Stepan Arkadyevitch.
“I do believe I might ask her to speak to both of them,” thought Stepan
Arkadyevitch.
“Oh, of course, countess,” he said; “but I imagine such changes are a
matter so private that no one, even the most intimate friend, would care to
speak of them.”
“On the contrary! We ought to speak freely and help one another.”
“Yes, undoubtedly so, but there is such a difference of convictions, and
besides….” said Oblonsky with a soft smile.
“There can be no difference where it is a question of holy truth.”
“Oh, no, of course; but….” and Stepan Arkadyevitch paused in confusion.
He understood at last that they were talking of religion.
“I fancy he will fall asleep immediately,” said Alexey Alexandrovitch in
a whisper full of meaning, going up to Lidia Ivanovna.
Stepan Arkadyevitch looked round. Landau was sitting at the window,
leaning on his elbow and the back of his chair, his head drooping. Noticing
that all eyes were turned on him he raised his head and smiled a smile of
childlike artlessness.
“Don’t take any notice,” said Lidia Ivanovna, and she lightly moved a
chair up for Alexey Alexandrovitch. “I have observed….” she was
beginning, when a footman came into the room with a letter. Lidia Ivanovna
rapidly ran her eyes over the note, and excusing herself, wrote an answer
with extraordinary rapidity, handed it to the man, and came back to the
table. “I have observed,” she went on, “that Moscow people, especially the
men, are more indifferent to religion than anyone.”
“Oh, no, countess, I thought Moscow people had the reputation of being
the firmest in the faith,” answered Stepan Arkadyevitch.
“But as far as I can make out, you are unfortunately one of the indifferent
ones,” said Alexey Alexandrovitch, turning to him with a weary smile.
“How anyone can be indifferent!” said Lidia Ivanovna.
“I am not so much indifferent on that subject as I am waiting in
suspense,” said Stepan Arkadyevitch, with his most deprecating smile. “I
hardly think that the time for such questions has come yet for me.”
Alexey Alexandrovitch and Lidia Ivanovna looked at each other.
“We can never tell whether the time has come for us or not,” said Alexey
Alexandrovitch severely. “We ought not to think whether we are ready or
not ready. God’s grace is not guided by human considerations: sometimes it
comes not to those that strive for it, and comes to those that are unprepared,
like Saul.”
“No, I believe it won’t be just yet,” said Lidia Ivanovna, who had been
meanwhile watching the movements of the Frenchman. Landau got up and
came to them.
“Do you allow me to listen?” he asked.
“Oh, yes; I did not want to disturb you,” said Lidia Ivanovna, gazing
tenderly at him; “sit here with us.”
“One has only not to close one’s eyes to shut out the light,” Alexey
Alexandrovitch went on.
“Ah, if you knew the happiness we know, feeling His presence ever in
our hearts!” said Countess Lidia Ivanovna with a rapturous smile.
“But a man may feel himself unworthy sometimes to rise to that height,”
said Stepan Arkadyevitch, conscious of hypocrisy in admitting this religious
height, but at the same time unable to bring himself to acknowledge his
free-thinking views before a person who, by a single word to Pomorsky,
might procure him the coveted appointment.
“That is, you mean that sin keeps him back?” said Lidia Ivanovna. “But
that is a false idea. There is no sin for believers, their sin has been atoned
for. Pardon,” she added, looking at the footman, who came in again with
another letter. She read it and gave a verbal answer: “Tomorrow at the
Grand Duchess’s, say.” “For the believer sin is not,” she went on.
“Yes, but faith without works is dead,” said Stepan Arkadyevitch,
recalling the phrase from the catechism, and only by his smile clinging to
his independence.
“There you have it—from the epistle of St. James,” said Alexey
Alexandrovitch, addressing Lidia Ivanovna, with a certain reproachfulness
in his tone. It was unmistakably a subject they had discussed more than
once before. “What harm has been done by the false interpretation of that
passage! Nothing holds men back from belief like that misinterpretation. ‘I
have not works, so I cannot believe,’ though all the while that is not said.
But the very opposite is said.”
“Striving for God, saving the soul by fasting,” said Countess Lidia
Ivanovna, with disgusted contempt, “those are the crude ideas of our
monks…. Yet that is nowhere said. It is far simpler and easier,” she added,
looking at Oblonsky with the same encouraging smile with which at court
she encouraged youthful maids of honor, disconcerted by the new
surroundings of the court.
“We are saved by Christ who suffered for us. We are saved by faith,”
Alexey Alexandrovitch chimed in, with a glance of approval at her words.
“Vous comprenez l’anglais?” asked Lidia Ivanovna, and receiving a
reply in the affirmative, she got up and began looking through a shelf of
books.
“I want to read him ‘Safe and Happy,’ or ‘Under the Wing,’” she said,
looking inquiringly at Karenin. And finding the book, and sitting down
again in her place, she opened it. “It’s very short. In it is described the way
by which faith can be reached, and the happiness, above all earthly bliss,
with which it fills the soul. The believer cannot be unhappy because he is
not alone. But you will see.” She was just settling herself to read when the
footman came in again. “Madame Borozdina? Tell her, tomorrow at two
o’clock. Yes,” she said, putting her finger in the place in the book, and
gazing before her with her fine pensive eyes, “that is how true faith acts.
You know Marie Sanina? You know about her trouble? She lost her only
child. She was in despair. And what happened? She found this comforter,
and she thanks God now for the death of her child. Such is the happiness
faith brings!”
“Oh, yes, that is most….” said Stepan Arkadyevitch, glad they were going
to read, and let him have a chance to collect his faculties. “No, I see I’d
better not ask her about anything today,” he thought. “If only I can get out
of this without putting my foot in it!”
