Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 18
CHAPTER XVIII
Vronsky followed the conductor, and, as he was about to enter the railway-carriage, he stood aside to allow a lady to pass him.
With the instant intuition of a man of the world, he saw, by a single glance at this lady's exterior, that she belonged to the very best society. Begging her pardon, he was about to enter the door, but involuntarily he turned to give another look at the lady, not because she was very beautiful, not because of that elegance and that unassuming grace which were expressed in her whole person, but because the expression of her lovely face, as she passed, seemed to him so gentle and sweet.
Just as he looked back at her, she also turned her head. Her brilliant gray eyes, looking almost black under the long lashes, rested on his face with a friendly, attentive look, as if she recognized him; and instantly she turned to seek some one in the throng.
Quick as this glance was, Vronsky had time to perceive the dignified vivacity which played in her face and fluttered between her shining eyes, and the scarcely perceptible smile parting her rosy lips. There seemed to be in her whole person such a superfluity of life that, in spite of her will, it expressed itself now in the lightning of her eyes, now in her smile. She demurely veiled the light in her eyes, but it shone against her will in her scarcely perceptible smile.
Vronsky went into the carriage. His mother, a dried-up old lady with black eyes and little curls, screwed up her face as she looked at him with a slight smile on her thin lips. Getting up from her chair, and handing her bag to her maid, she extended her little thin hand to her son, and, pushing his head from her, kissed him on the brow.
"You received my telegram? You are well? Thank the Lord!"
"Did you have a comfortable journey?" said the son, sitting down near her, and yet involuntarily listening to a woman's voice just outside the door. He knew that it was the voice of the lady whom he had met.
"However, I don't agree with you," said the lady's voice.
"It is the Petersburg way of looking at it, madam."
"Not at all, but simply a woman's," was her reply.
"Well! allow me to kiss your hand."
"Good-by, Ivan Petrovitch. Now look and see if my brother is here, and send him to me," said the lady, at the very door, and reëntering the compartment.
"Have you found your brother?" asked the Countess Vronskaya, addressing the lady.
Vronsky now knew that it was Karenin's wife.
"Your brother is here," he said, rising. "Excuse me; I did not recognize you; but our acquaintance was so short," he added with a bow, "that you naturally did not remember me either."
"Oh, yes, I did!" she said. "I should have known you because your matushka and I have been talking about you all the way." And at last she permitted the animation which had been striving to break forth to express itself in a smile. "But my brother has not come yet."
"Go and call him, Alyosha," said the old countess.
Vronsky went out on the platform and called:—
"Oblonsky! here!"
But Karenin's wife did not wait for her brother; as soon as she saw him she ran lightly out of the carriage, went straight to him, and, with a gesture which struck Vronsky by its grace and energy, threw her left arm around his neck and kissed him affectionately.
Vronsky could not keep his eyes from her face, and smiled, without knowing why. But, remembering that his mother was waiting for him, he went back into the carriage.
"Very charming, is n't she?" said the countess, referring to Madame Karenina. "Her husband put her in my charge, and I was very glad. She and I talked together all the way. Well! and you? They say you are desperately in love. So much the better, my dear, so much the better."
"I don't know what you allude to, maman," replied the son, coldly. "Come, maman, let us go."
At this moment Madame Karenina came back to take leave of the countess.
"Well, countess! you have found your son, and I my brother," she said gayly; "and I have exhausted my whole fund of stories. I should n't have had anything more to talk about."
"Ah! not so," said the countess, taking her hand. "I should not object to travel round the world with you. You are one of those agreeable women with whom either speech or silence is pleasant. As to your son, I beg of you, don't think about him: we must have separations in this world."
Madame Karenina stood motionless, holding herself very erect, and her eyes smiled.
"Anna Arkadyevna has a little boy about eight years old," said the countess, in explanation to her son; "she has never been separated from him before, and it troubles her to leave him."
"Yes, we have talked about our children all the time,—the countess of her son, I of mine," said Madame Karenina, turning to Vronsky; and again the smile lighted up her face, the caressing smile which beamed upon him.
"That must have been very tiresome to you," said he, instantly catching on the rebound the ball of coquetry which she had tossed to him. But she evidently did not care to continue her conversation in the same tone, but turned to the old countess:—
"Thank you very much. I don't see where the time has gone. Good-by, countess."
"Farewell, my dear," replied the countess. "Let me kiss your pretty little face. I tell you frankly, as it is permitted an old lady, that I am in love with you."
Hackneyed as this expression was, Madame Karenina evidently believed thoroughly in its sincerity, and was pleased with it. She blushed, bowed lightly, and bent her face down to the old countess's lips. Then, straightening herself up, she gave her hand to Vronsky with the smile that seemed to belong as much to her eyes as to her lips. He pressed her little hand, and, as if it were something unusual, was delighted with the energetic firmness with which she frankly and fearlessly shook his hand.
Madame Karenina went out with light and rapid step, carrying her rather plump person with remarkable elasticity.
"Very charming," said the old lady again.
Her son was of the same opinion; and again his eyes followed her graceful figure till she was out of sight, and a smile rested on his face. Through the window he saw her join her brother, take his arm, and engage him in lively conversation, evidently about some subject with which Vronsky had no connection, and this seemed to him annoying.
"Well! are you enjoying perfectly good health, maman?" he asked, turning to his mother.
"Very well, indeed, splendid. Alexandre has been charming, and Marie has been very good. She is very interesting."
And again she began to speak of what was especially interesting to her heart,—the baptism of her grandson, for which she had come to Moscow, and the special favor shown her eldest son by the emperor.
"And here is Lavronty," said Vronsky, looking out of the window. "Now let us go, if you are ready."
The old steward who had come with the countess now appeared at the door to report that everything was ready, and she arose to go.
"Come, there are only a few people about now," said Vronsky.
The maid took the bag and the little dog; the steward and a porter carried the other luggage; Vronsky offered his mother his arm, but, just as they stepped down from the carriage, a number of men with frightened faces ran hastily by them. The station-master followed in his curiously colored furazhka or uniform-cap. Evidently something unusual had happened. The people who had left the train were coming back again.
"What is it?" .... "What is it?" .... "Where?" .... "He was thrown down!" .... "He was crushed to death!" were the exclamations heard among those hurrying by.
Stepan Arkadyevitch with his sister on his arm had returned with the others, and were standing with frightened faces near the train to avoid the crush.
The ladies went back into the carriage, and Vronsky with Stepan Arkadyevitch went with the crowd to learn the particulars of the accident.
A train-hand, either from drunkenness, or because he was too closely muffled against the intense cold, had not heard the noise of a train that was backing out, and had been crushed.
The ladies had already learned about the accident from the steward before Vronsky and Oblonsky came back. Both of them had seen the disfigured body. Oblonsky was deeply moved; he frowned, and seemed ready to shed tears.
"Akh, how horrible! Akh, Anna, if you had only seen it! Akh, how horrible!" he repeated.
Vronsky said nothing; his handsome face was serious, but perfectly calm.
"Akh, if you had only seen it, countess!" continued Stepan Arkadyevitch,—"and his wife is there. .... It was terrible to see her .... she threw herself on his body. They say that he was the only support of a large family. How terrible!"
"Could anything be done for her?" said Madame Karenina, in an agitated whisper.
Vronsky looked at her, and immediately left the carriage.
"I will be right back, maman," said he, turning round at the door.
When he came back, at the end of a few minutes, Stepan Arkadyevitch was talking with the countess about a new singer, and she was impatiently watching the door for her son.
"Now let us go," said Vronsky,
They all went out together, Vronsky walking ahead with his mother, Madame Karenina and her brother side by side. At the door the station-master overtook them, and said to Vronsky:—
"You have given my assistant two hundred rubles. Will you kindly indicate the disposition that we shall make of them?"
"For his widow," said Vronsky, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't see why you should have asked me."
"Did you give that?" asked Oblonsky; and, pressing his sister's arm, he said, "Very kind, very kind. Glorious fellow, is n't he? My best wishes, countess."
He and his sister delayed, looking for her maid. When they left the station, the Vronskys' carriage had already gone. People on all sides were talking about what had happened.
"What a horrible way of dying!" said a gentleman, passing near them. "They say he was cut in two."
"It seems to me, on the contrary," replied another, "that it was a very easy way; death was instantaneous."
"Why were n't there any precautions taken?" asked a third.
Madame Karenina sat down in the carriage; and Stepan Arkadyevitch noticed, with astonishment, that her lips trembled, and that she could hardly keep back the tears.
"What is the matter, Anna?" he asked, when they had gone a little distance.
"It is an evil omen," she answered.
"What nonsense!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "You have come .... that is the main thing. You cannot imagine how much I hope from your visit."
"Have you known Vronsky long?" she asked.
"Yes. You know we hope that he will marry Kitty."
"Really," said Anna, gently. "Well! now let us talk about yourself," she added, shaking her head as if she wanted to drive away something that troubled and pained her physically. "Let us speak about your affairs. I received your letter, and here I am."
"Yes, all my hope is in you," said Stepan Arkadyevitch.
"Well, then! tell me all."
And Stepan Arkadyevitch began his story.
When they reached the house he helped his sister from the carriage, sighed, shook hands with her, and went to the court-house.