by Anna Karenina (tr Richard Pevear, Larissa Volokhonsky) (Penguin Classics) (epub)
‘Tell her we don’t give discounts!’ he said and went back to Alexei Alexandrovich.
While returning to his place he inconspicuously caught another moth. ‘Fine upholstery I’ll have by summer!’ he thought, frowning.
‘And so, you were kindly saying …’ he said.
‘I shall inform you of my decision in writing,’ said Alexei Alexandrovich, getting up and taking hold of the desk. After standing silently for a while, he said: ‘I may thus conclude from your words that the carrying through of a divorce is possible. I should also like you to inform me of your terms.’
‘Everything is possible, if you allow me complete freedom of action,’ the lawyer said without answering the question. ‘When may I expect to hear from you?’ he asked, moving towards the door, his eyes and his patent–leather boots shining.
‘In a week. And kindly give me an answer as to whether you will agree to undertake in this case and on what terms.’
‘Very well, sir.’
The lawyer bowed deferentially, let his client out of the door and, left alone, gave himself up to his joyful feeling. He felt so merry that, contrary to his rules, he gave the bargaining lady a lower price and stopped catching moths, having decided finally that by next winter he would have to re–upholster the furniture in velvet, as at Sigonin’s.
VI
Alexei Alexandrovich had won a brilliant victory at the meeting of the commission on August 17th, but the consequences of that victory crippled him. The new commission for the investigation into all aspects of the life of the racial minorities was appointed and sent to the scene with extraordinary swiftness and energy, inspired by Alexei Alexandrovich. Three months later a report was presented. The life of the minorities was investigated in its political, administrative, economic, ethnographic, material and religious aspects. All questions were furnished with excellent answers, and answers not open to doubt, since they were not the product of human thought, which is always subject to error, but were the products of institutional activity. The answers were all the result of official data, the reports of governors and bishops, based on the reports of regional superiors and vicars, based for their part on the reports of local officials and parish priests; and therefore all these answers were indubitable. All the questions, for instance, about why there were crop failures, why the populations clung to their beliefs, and so on – questions that would not and could not be resolved for centuries without the convenience of the institutional machine – now received a clear and indubitable resolution. The results were in favour of Alexei Alexandrovich’s opinion. But when the reports of the commission were received, Stremov, feeling himself cut to the quick at the last meeting, employed a tactic that Alexei Alexandrovich did not expect. Drawing several other members with him, he suddenly went over to Alexei Alexandrovich’s side, and not only hotly defended the carrying out of the measures suggested by Karenin, but offered additional measures, extreme ones, in the same spirit. These measures, intensified far beyond Alexei Alexandrovich’s fundamental idea, were accepted, and then Stremov’s tactic was revealed. These measures, carried to an extreme, suddenly proved to be so stupid that statesmen, and public opinion, and intelligent ladies and the newspapers all fell upon them at one and the same time, voicing their indignation both at the measures themselves and at their acknowledged father, Alexei Alexandrovich. Stremov then withdrew, pretending he had only been blindly following Karenin’s plan and now was himself surprised and indignant at what had been done. This crippled Alexei Alexandrovich. But in spite of declining health, in spite of family woes, he did not give in. A split occurred in the com– mission. Some members, with Stremov at their head, justified their mistake by their trust in the inspection commission directed by Alexei Alexandrovich, which had presented the report, and said that the report of this commission was nonsense and nothing but waste paper. Alexei Alexandrovich, with a party of people who saw the danger of such a revolutionary attitude towards official papers, continued to support the data provided by the inspection commission. As a result, everything became confused in higher spheres and even in society, and, despite great interest on everyone’s part, no one could make out whether the minorities were flourishing or were actually in need and perishing. Alexei Alexandrovich’s position, as a result of that and partly as a result of the scorn that fell on him owing to his wife’s infidelity, became quite shaky. And in that position Alexei Alexandrovich took an important decision. He announced, to the surprise of the commission, that he would request permission to go personally to investigate the matter on the spot. And, having received permission, Alexei Alexandrovich set out for the distant provinces.
Alexei Alexandrovich’s departure caused a great stir, the more so as at his departure he officially returned under receipt the travelling money allotted him for twelve horses to take him to his destination.
‘I find it very noble,’ Betsy said of it to Princess Miagky. ‘Why provide for post horses when everyone knows there are railways everywhere now?’
But Princess Miagky disagreed, and Princess Tverskoy’s opinion even vexed her.
‘It’s all very well for you to talk,’ she said, ‘since you have I don’t know how many millions, but I like it very much when my husband goes inspecting in the summer. It’s very healthy and pleasant for him to ride around, and I make it a rule that the money goes for keeping a coach and coachman.’
On his way to the distant provinces Alexei Alexandrovich stopped for three days in Moscow.
The day after his arrival he went to visit the governor general. At the intersection of Gazetny Lane, where there is always a crowd of carriages and cabs, Alexei Alexandrovich suddenly heard his name called out in such a loud and merry voice that he could not help turning round. On the corner pavement, in a short, fashionable coat, with his short, fashionable hat cocked to one side, the gleam of a white–toothed smile between his red lips, merry, young and beaming, stood Stepan Arkadyich, resolutely and insistently shouting and demanding that he stop. He was holding on with one hand to the window of a carriage that had stopped at the corner, out of which peered a woman’s head in velvet hat and two children’s heads, and was smiling and beckoning to his brother–in–law with the other hand. The lady smiled a kindly smile and also waved her hand to Alexei Alexandrovich. It was Dolly with the children.
Alexei Alexandrovich did not want to see anyone in Moscow, least of all his wife’s brother. He raised his hat and was about to drive on, but Stepan Arkadyich told his coachman to stop and ran to him across the snow.
‘How wicked of you not to send word! Have you been here long? And I was at the Dussot yesterday and saw "Karenin" on the board, and it never occurred to me that it was you!’ said Stepan Arkadyich, thrusting his head inside the carriage. ‘Otherwise I’d have called on you. I’m so glad to see you!’ he said, knocking one foot against the other to shake off the snow. ‘How wicked of you not to let us know!’ he repeated.
‘I had no time, I’m very busy,’ Alexei Alexandrovich replied drily.
‘Let’s go to my wife, she wants so much to see you.’
Alexei Alexandrovich removed the rug in which his chill–prone legs were wrapped and, getting out of the carriage, made his way over the snow to Darya Alexandrovna.
‘What is it, Alexei Alexandrovich, why do you avoid us like this?’ Dolly said, smiling sadly.
‘I’ve been very busy. Very glad to see you,’ he said, in a tone which showed clearly that he was upset by it. ‘How are you?’
‘And how is my dear Anna?’
Alexei Alexandrovich mumbled something and was about to leave. But Stepan Arkadyich stopped him.
‘Here’s what we’ll do tomorrow. Dolly, invite him for dinner! We’ll invite Koznyshev and Pestsov and treat him to the Moscow intelligentsia.’
‘Yes, please do come,’ said Dolly, ‘we’ll expect you at five, six if you like. Well, how is my dear Anna? It’s so long since …’
‘She’s well,’ Alexei Alexandrovich mumbled, frowning. ‘
Very glad to see you!’ and he made for his carriage.
‘Will you come?’ Dolly called out.
Alexei Alexandrovich said something that Dolly could not make out in the noise of moving carriages.
‘I’ll drop in tomorrow!’ Stepan Arkadyich called to him.
Alexei Alexandrovich got into his carriage and sank deep inside, so as not to see or be seen.
‘An odd bird!’ Stepan Arkadyich said to his wife and, looking at his watch, made a gesture in front of his face signifying love for his wife and children, and went off jauntily down the pavement.
‘Stiva! Stiva!’ Dolly called out, blushing.
He turned.
‘I have to buy coats for Grisha and Tanya. Give me some money!’
‘Never mind. Tell them I’ll pay,’ and he disappeared, nodding gaily to an acquaintance driving by.
VII
The next day was Sunday. Stepan Arkadyich called in on the ballet rehearsal at the Bolshoi Theatre and gave Masha Chibisova, a pretty dancer, newly signed on through his patronage, the coral necklace he had promised her the day before and, backstage, in the theatre’s daytime darkness, managed to kiss her pretty face, brightened by the gift. Besides giving her the coral necklace, he had to arrange to meet her after the performance. Explaining to her that he could not be there for the beginning of the ballet, he promised to come by the last act and take her to supper. From the theatre Stepan Arkadyich went to the Okhotny Market, personally selected the fish and asparagus for dinner, and by noon was already at the Dussot, where he had to see three people who, fortunately for him, were staying at the same hotel: Levin, who was staying there after recently returning from abroad; his newly appointed superior, who had just taken over that high position and was inspecting Moscow; and his brother–in–law Karenin, to bring him to dinner without fail.
Stepan Arkadyich loved dining, but still more he loved giving a dinner, not a big dinner, but a refined one as to the food, the drinks and the selection of guests. The programme for today’s dinner was very much to his liking: there would be live perch, asparagus and la piece de resistance – a superb but simple roast beef – and the appropriate wines. So much for the food and drink. And as guests there would be Kitty and Levin, and, to make it less conspicuous, another girl cousin and the young Shcherbatsky, and la piece de resistance among the guests – Sergei Koznyshev and Alexei Alexandrovich – Muscovite philosopher and Petersburg politician. And he would also invite the well–known eccentric and enthusiast Pestsov, a liberal, a talker, a musician, a historian, and the dearest fifty–year–old boy, who would be like the gravy or garnish for Koznyshev and Karenin. He would rile them up and set them on each other.
The second instalment of the merchant’s money for the wood had been received and was not yet all spent, Dolly had been very sweet and kind lately, and the thought of the dinner gladdened Stepan Arkadyich in all respects. He was in the merriest state of mind. There were two slightly unpleasant circumstances, but they both drowned in the sea of good–natured merriment that surged in his soul. These two circumstances were: first, that yesterday, when he met Alexei Alexandrovich in the street, he noticed that he was dry and stern with him, and, putting together the look on Alexei Alexandrovich’s face, plus the fact that he had not called on them and had not let them know he was there, with the talk he had heard about Anna and Vronsky, Stepan Arkadyich guessed that something was wrong between the husband and wife.
That was one unpleasantness. The other slight unpleasantness was that his new superior, like all new superiors, already had the reputation of being a terrible man, who got up at six o’clock in the morning, worked like a horse, and demanded that his subordinates work in the same way. Besides, this new superior was also reputed to have the manners of a bear and, according to rumour, was a man of the completely opposite tendency from that to which the former superior had adhered and to which, till then, Stepan Arkadyich himself had also adhered. The day before, Stepan Arkadyich had come to work in his uniform and the new superior had been very amiable and had got to talking with him as with an acquaintance. Therefore Stepan Arkadyich felt obliged to call on him in a frock coat.[5] The thought that the new superior might not take it well was that second unpleasant circumstance. But Stepan Arkadyich felt instinctively that it would all shape up beautifully. ‘They’re human, they’re people, just like us sinners: why get angry and quarrel?’ he thought, going into the hotel.
‘Greetings, Vassily,’ he said, walking down the corridor with his hat cocked and addressing a servant he knew. ‘So you’re letting your side–whiskers grow? Levin’s in number seven, eh? Take me there, please. And find out whether Count Anichkin’ (that was the new superior) ‘will receive me.’ ‘Very well, sir,’ Vassily replied, smiling. ‘You haven’t been here for a long time.’
‘I was here yesterday, only I used a different entrance. Is this number seven?’
Levin was standing in the middle of the room with a muzhik from Tver measuring a fresh bear–skin with a yardstick when Stepan Arkadyich came in.
‘Ah, you shot it?’ Stepan Arkadyich cried. ‘A fine thing! A she–bear? Hello, Arkhip.’
He shook hands with the muzhik and sat down on a chair without taking off his coat and hat.
‘But do take it off and stay a while,’ said Levin, taking his hat off him.
‘No, I have no time, I’ll stay for one little second,’ Stepan Arkadyich replied. He threw his coat open, but then took it off and sat for a whole hour talking with Levin about hunting and the most heartfelt subjects.
‘Well, kindly tell me, what did you do abroad? Where did you go?’ said Stepan Arkadyich, when the muzhik left.
‘I was in Germany, in Prussia, in France, in England – not in the capitals, but in the manufacturing towns – and saw many new things. I’m glad I went.’
‘Yes, I know your idea about setting up the workers.’
‘Not at all: there can be no workers problem in Russia. In Russia there’s a problem of the relation of working people to the land. It exists there, too, but there it’s the repairing of something damaged, while here…’
Stepan Arkadyich listened attentively to Levin.
‘Yes, yes!’ he said. ‘It’s very possible that you’re right,’ he observed. ‘But I’m glad you’re in cheerful spirits – hunting bear, and working, and getting enthusiastic. Shcherbatsky told me he met you and that you were in some sort of despondency, kept talking about death …’
‘And what of it? I haven’t stopped thinking about death,’ said Levin. ‘It’s true that it’s time to die. And that everything is nonsense. I’ll tell you truly: I value my thought and work terribly, but in essence – think about it – this whole world of ours is just a bit of mildew that grew over a tiny planet. And we think we can have something great – thoughts, deeds! They’re all grains of sand.’
‘But, my dear boy, that’s as old as the hills!’
‘Old, yes, but you know, once you understand it clearly, everything somehow becomes insignificant. Once you understand that you’ll die today or tomorrow and there’ll be nothing left, everything becomes so insignificant! I consider my thought very important, but it turns out to be as insignificant, even if it’s carried out, as tracking down this she–bear. So you spend your life diverted by hunting or work in order not to think about death.’
Stepan Arkadyich smiled subtly and gently as he listened to Levin.
‘Well, naturally! Here you’re coming over to my side. Remember, you attacked me for seeking pleasures in life? "Be not so stern, O moralist"!… ‘[6]
‘No, all the same there is this good in life that…’ Levin became confused. ‘But I don’t know. I only know that we’ll die soon.’
‘Why soon?’
‘And you know, there’s less charm in life when you think about death – but it’s more peaceful.’
‘On the contrary, the last days are the merriest. Well, anyhow, it’s time for me to go,’ said Stepan Arkadyich, getting up for the tenth time.