Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 11
CHAPTER XI
Levin drained his glass, and they were silent.
"I ought to tell you one thing, though. Do you know Vronsky?" asked Stepan Arkadyevitch.
"No, I don't know him; why do you ask?"
"Bring us another bottle," said Oblonsky to the Tatar, who was refilling their glasses and was hovering about them, especially when he was not needed. "You must know that Vronsky is one of your rivals."
"Who is this Vronsky?" asked Levin, and his face, a moment since beaming with the youthful enthusiasm which Oblonsky so much admired, suddenly took on a disagreeable expression of anger.
"Vronsky—he is one of Count Kirill Ivanovitch Vronsky's sons, and one of the finest examples of the gilded youth of Petersburg. I used to know him at Tver when I was on duty there; he came there for recruiting service. He is immensely rich, handsome, with excellent connections, one of the emperor's aides, and, moreover, a capital good fellow. From what I have seen of him, he is more than a 'good fellow'; he is well educated and bright, he is a rising man."
Levin scowled, and said nothing.
"Well, then! he put in an appearance soon after you left; and, as I understand, he fell over ears in love with Kitty. You understand that her mother .... "
"Excuse me, but I don't understand at all," interrupted Levin, scowling still more fiercely. And suddenly he remembered his brother Nikolaï, and how ugly it was in him to forget him.
"Just wait, wait," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, laying his hand on Levin's arm with a smile. "I have told you all that I know; but I repeat, that, in my humble opinion, the chances in this delicate affair are on your side."
Levin leaned back in his chair; his face was pale.
"But I advise you to settle the matter as quickly as possible," suggested Oblonsky, filling up his glass.
"No, thank you: I cannot drink any more," said Levin, pushing away the glass. "I shall be tipsy. .... Well, how are you feeling?" he added, desiring to change the conversation.
"One word more: in any case I advise you to settle the question quickly. I advise you to speak immediately," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "Go to-morrow morning, make your proposal in classic style, and God bless you." ....
"Why have n't you ever come to hunt with me as you promised to do? Come this spring," said Levin.
He now repented with all his heart that he had entered upon this conversation with Stepan Arkadyevitch: his deepest feelings were wounded by what he had just learned of the pretensions of his rival, the young officer from Petersburg, as well as by the advice and insinuations of Stepan Arkadyevitch.
Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled. He perceived what was taking place in Levin's heart.
"I will come some day," he said, "Yes, brother, woman's the spring that moves everything. My own trouble is bad, very bad. And all on account of women. Give me your advice," said he, taking a cigar, and still holding his glass in his hand. "Tell me frankly what you think."
"But what about?"
"Listen: suppose you were married, that you loved your wife, but had been drawn away by another woman .... "
"Excuse me. I really can't imagine any such thing. As it looks to me, it would be as if in coming out from dinner, I should steal a loaf of bread from a bakery."
Stepan Arkadyevitch's eyes sparkled more than usual. "Why not? Bread sometimes smells so good, that one cannot resist the temptation:—
Meine irdische Begier:
Aber doch wenn's nicht gelungen,
Hätt' ich auf recht hübsch Plaisir."[1]
As he repeated these lines, Oblonsky smiled.
Levin could not refrain from smiling also.
"But a truce to pleasantries," continued Oblonsky. "Imagine a woman, a charming, modest, loving creature, poor, and alone in the world, who had sacrificed everything for you. Now, imagine, after the thing is done, is it necessary to give her up? We'll allow that it is necessary to break with her, so as not to disturb the peace of the family; but ought we not to pity her, to make provision for her, to soften the blow?"
"Pardon me; but you know that for me all women are divided into two classes, .... no, that is, .... there are women, and there are .... But I never yet have seen or expect to see beautiful fallen women, beautiful repentant Magdalens; and such women as that painted French creature at the bar, with her false curls, fill me with disgust, and all fallen women are the same!"
"But the woman in the New Testament?"
"Akh! hold your peace. Never would Christ have said those words if he had known to what bad use they would be put. Out of the whole Gospel, only those words are taken. However, I don't say what I think, but what I feel. You feel a disgust for spiders and I for these reptiles. You see you did not have to study spiders, and you know nothing about their natures. So it is with me."
"It is well for you to say so; it is a very convenient way to do as the character in Dickens did, and throw all embarrassing questions over his right shoulder with his left hand. But to deny a fact is not to answer it. Now, what is to be done? tell me! what is to be done? Your wife grows old and you are full of life. Before you are aware of it you realize that you do not love your wife, however much you may respect her. And then suddenly you fall in love with some one and you fall, you fall!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, with a melancholy despair.
Levin laughed.
"Yes, you fall!" repeated Oblonsky. "Then what is to be done?"
"Don't steal fresh bread."
Stepan Arkadyevitch burst out laughing.
"O moralist! but please appreciate the situation. Here are two women: one insists only on her rights, and her rights mean your love which you cannot give; the other has sacrificed everything for you and demands nothing. What can one do? How can one proceed? Here is a terrible tragedy!"
"If you wish my judgment concerning this tragedy, I will tell you that I don't believe in this tragedy, and this is why. In my opinion, Love—the two Loves which Plato describes in his 'Symposium,' you remember, serve as the touchstone for men. Some people understand only one of them; others understand the other. Those who comprehend only the Platonic love have no right to speak of this tragedy now. In this sort of love there can be no tragedy. I thank you humbly for the pleasure; and therein consists the whole drama. But for Platonic love there can be no tragedy because it is bright and pure, and because .... "
At this moment Levin remembered his own shortcomings and the inward struggles which he had undergone, and he unexpectedly added, "However, you may be right. It is quite possible .... I know nothing—absolutely nothing—about it."
"Do you see," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, "you are a very perfect man? Your great virtue is your only fault. You are a very perfect character and you desire that all the factors of life should also be perfect; but this cannot be. Here you scorn the service of the state, because, according to your idea, every action should correspond to an exact end; but this cannot be. You require also that the activity of every man should always have an object, that conjugal life and love be one and the same; but this cannot be. All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty, of life consists in lights and shades."
Levin sighed, and did not answer; he was absorbed in his own thoughts and did not even listen.
And suddenly both of them felt that, though they were good friends, though they had been dining together and drinking wine, yet each was thinking only of his own affairs and cared nothing for the affairs of the other. Oblonsky had more than once had this experience after dining with a friend, and he knew what had to be done when, instead of coming into closer sympathy, the distance between seemed widened.
"The account," he cried, and went into the next room, where he met an aide whom he knew, and with whom he began to talk about an actress and her lover. This conversation amused and rested Oblonsky after his conversation with Levin, who always kept his mind on too great an intellectual and moral strain.
When the Tatar brought the account, amounting to twenty-six rubles and odd kopeks, and something more for his fee, Levin, who at any other time, as a countryman, would have been shocked at the size of the bill, paid the fourteen rubles of his share without noticing, and went to his lodgings to dress for the reception at the Shcherbatskys', where his fate would be decided.
- ↑ It was heavenly when I gained
What my heart desired on earth:
Yet if not all were attained,
Still I had my share or mirth.