Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 12
CHAPTER XII
The Princess Kitty Shcherbatskaya was eighteen years old. She was making her first appearance in society this winter, and her triumphs had been more brilliant than her elder sisters, more than even her mother, had expected. Not only were almost all the young men who danced at balls in Moscow in love with Kitty, but, moreover, there were two who, during this first winter, were serious aspirants to her hand,—Levin, and, soon after his departure, Count Vronsky.
Levin's appearance at the beginning of the winter, his frequent calls and his unconcealed love for Kitty, were the first subjects that gave cause for serious conversation between her father and mother in regard to her future and for disputes between the prince and princess. The prince was on Levin's side, and declared that he could not desire a better match for Kitty. But the princess, with the skill which women have for avoiding a question, insisted that Kitty was too young, that Levin did not seem to be serious in his attentions, and that she did not show great partiality for him; but she did not express what was in the bottom of her heart,—that she was ambitious for a more brilliant marriage, that Levin did not appeal to her sympathies, and that she did not understand him. And when Levin took a sudden leave she was glad and said; with an air of triumph, to her husband:—
"You see, I was right."
When Vronsky appeared on the scene, she was still more glad, being confirmed in her opinion that Kitty ought to make, not merely a good, but a brilliant match.
For the princess there was no comparison between Vronsky and Levin as suitors. The mother disliked Levin and his strange and harsh judgments, his awkwardness in society, which she attributed to his pride and what she called his savage life in the country, occupied with his cattle and peasants. Nor did she like it at all that Levin, though he was in love with her daughter, and had been a frequent visitor at their house for six weeks, had appeared like a man who was hesitating, watching, and questioning whether, if he should offer himself, the honor which he conferred on them would not be too great, and that he did not seem to understand that when a man comes assiduously to a house where there is a marriageable daughter, it is proper for him to declare his intentions. And then he suddenly departed without any explanation!
"It is fortunate," the mother thought, "that he is so unattractive, and that Kitty has not fallen in love with him."
Vronsky satisfied all her requirements: he was very rich, intelligent, of good birth, with a brilliant career at court or in the army before him, and, moreover, he was charming. Nothing better could be desired. Vronsky was devoted to Kitty at the balls, danced with her, and called upon her parents; there could be no doubt that his intentions were serious. But, notwithstanding this, the mother had passed this whole winter full of doubts and perplexities.
The princess herself had been married thirty years before, through the match-making of an aunt. Her suitor, who was well known by reputation, came, saw the young lady, and was seen by the family; the aunt who served as intermediary gave and received the report of the impression produced on both sides; the impression was favorable. Then on a designated day the expected proposal was made on the parents, and granted. Everything had passed off very easily and simply. At least, so it seemed to the princess. But in the case of her own daughters, she learned by experience how difficult and complicated this apparently simple matter of getting girls married really was. How many fears she had to go through! How many things had to be thought over, how much money had to be lavished, how many collisions with her husband, when the time came for Darya and Natali to be married! And now that the youngest was in the matrimonial market, she was obliged to suffer from the same anxieties, the same doubts, and even more bitter quarrels with her husband.
The old prince, like all fathers, was excessively punctilious about everything concerning the honor and purity of his daughters, he was distressingly jealous regarding them, especially Kitty, who was his favorite, and at every step he accused his wife of compromising his daughter. The princess had become accustomed to these scenes from the days of her elder daughters, but now she felt that her husband's strictness had more justification. She saw that in these later days many of the practices of society had undergone a change, so that the duties of mothers were becoming more and more difficult. She saw how Kitty's young girl friends formed a sort of clique, went to races, freely mingled with men, went out driving alone; that many of them no longer made courtesies; and, what was more serious, all of them were firmly convinced that the choice of husbands was their affair and not their parents'.
"Marriages aren't made as they used to be," thought and said all these young ladies, and even some of the older people.
"But how are marriages made nowadays?" This question the princess could not get any one to answer.
The French custom, where the parents decide the fate of their children, was not accepted, was even bitterly criticized. The English custom, which allows the girls absolute liberty, was also not accepted, and was not possible in Russian society. The Russian custom of employing a match-maker was regarded as bad form; every one ridiculed it, even the princess herself. But no one seemed to know what course to take in regard to courtship. Every one with whom the princess talked said the same thing.
"For goodness' sake, it is time for us to renounce those exploded notions; it is the young folks, and not their parents, who get married, and, therefore, it is for young folks to make their arrangements in accordance with their own ideas."
It was well enough for those without daughters to say this; but the princess knew well that in this familiar intercourse her daughter might fall in love, and fall in love with some one who would not dream of marrying her, or would not make her a good husband. However earnestly they suggested to the princess that in our time young people ought to settle their own destinies, she found it impossible to agree with them any more than she could believe in the advisability of allowing the four-year-old children of our time to have loaded pistols as their favorite toys. And so the princess felt much more solicitude about Kitty than she had felt about either of her other daughters.
She feared now that Vronsky would content himself with playing the gallant. She saw that Kitty was already in love with him, but she consoled herself with the thought that he was a man of honor and would not do so; but, at the same time, she knew how easy it was, with the new freedom allowed in society, to turn a young girl's head, and how lightly men as a general thing regarded this.
The week before Kitty had told her mother of a conversation which she had held with Vronsky during a mazurka. This conversation had partially relieved the princess's mind, though it did not absolutely satisfy her. Vronsky told Kitty that he and his brother were both so used to letting their mother decide things for them, that they never undertook anything of importance without consulting her.
"And now I am looking for my mother's arrival from Petersburg as a great piece of good fortune," he had said.
Kitty reported these words without attaching any importance to them, but her mother understood them very differently. She knew that the old countess was expected from day to day; she knew that the old countess would be satisfied with her son's choice; and it was strange to her that he had not offered himself, as if he feared to offend his mother. However, she herself was so anxious for this match, and above all for relief from her anxieties, that she gave a favorable interpretation to these words. Bitterly as she felt the unhappiness of her oldest daughter, Dolly, who was thinking of leaving her husband, agitation regarding the decision of her youngest daughter's fate completely absorbed her thoughts.
Levin's arrival to-day gave her a new anxiety. She feared lest her daughter, who, as she thought, had at one time felt drawn toward Levin, might, out of excessive delicacy, refuse Vronsky, and she feared more than anything else that his arrival would complicate everything and postpone a long-desired consummation.
"Has he been here long?" asked the princess of her daughter, when they reached home after their meeting with Levin.
"Since yesterday, maman."
"I have one thing that I want to say to you .... "the princess began, and, at the sight of her serious and agitated face, Kitty knew what was coming.
"Mamma," said she, blushing, and turning quickly to her, "please, please don't speak about this. I know, I know all!"
She wished the same thing that her mother wished, but the motives of her mother's desires were repugnant to her.
"I only wish to say that as you have given hope to one...."
"Mamma, galubchik,[1] don't speak. It's so terrible to speak about this."
"I will not," replied her mother, seeing the tears in her daughter's eyes; "only one word, moya dusha[2]: you have promised to have no secrets from me. Have you any?"
"Never, mamma, not one!" replied Kitty, looking her mother full in the face and blushing; "but I have nothing to tell now. I .... I .... even if I wanted to, I don't know what to say and how.... I don't know ...."
"No, with those eyes she cannot speak a falsehood," said the mother to herself, smiling at her emotion and happiness. The princess smiled to think how momentous appeared to the poor girl what was passing in her heart.