Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 22
CHAPTER XXII
The ball was just beginning when Kitty and her mother mounted the grand staircase, brilliantly lighted and adorned with flowers and with powdered lackeys in red kaftans. In the ball-rooms there was an incessant bustle of movement, which sounded like the humming of a beehive, and, as they stopped to give the last touches to their hair and gowns, before a mirror hung on the tree-decorated landing, they heard the scraping of violins as the orchestra was tuning up for the first waltz.
A little old man, a civilian, who was smoothing his white locks at another mirror, and who exhaled a penetrating odor of perfumes, brushed against them on the stairway and stood aside, evidently impressed by Kitty's youth and beauty. A beardless young man, such as the old Prince Shcherbatsky would have reckoned among the "mashers," wearing a very low-cut waistcoat and a white necktie which he adjusted as he walked, bowed to them, and after he had passed them turned back to ask Kitty for a quadrille. The first quadrille was already promised to Vronsky, and so she was obliged to content the young man with the second. An officer buttoning his gloves was standing near the door of the ball-room; he cast a glance of admiration at the blooming Kitty, and caressed his mustache.
Although Kitty had taken great pains and spent much labor on her toilet, her gown, and all the preparations for this ball, yet now she entered the ball-room, in her complicated robe of tulle with its rose-colored overdress, as easily and naturally as if all these rosettes and laces, all the requirements of her toilet, had not caused her or her people a moment's attention, as if she had been born in this lace-trimmed ball-dress, and with a rose and two ribbons placed on the top of her graceful head. When the old princess, her mother, just before they entered the ball-room, was about to readjust her broad sash-ribbon, Kitty gently declined. She felt that everything about her must surely be right and graceful, and that to readjust anything about her was unnecessary.
Kitty was looking her prettiest. Her gown was not too tight anywhere; her lace fichu did not slip down, her rosettes did not crush, and did not pull off; her rose-colored slippers with their high heels did not pinch her, but were agreeable to her feet. The thick braids of her fair hair kept perfectly in place on her graceful little head. All the three buttons on her long gloves, which enveloped, without changing, the pretty shape of her hands, fastened easily, and did not tear. The black velvet ribbon, attached to a medallion, was thrown daintily about her neck. This ribbon was charming; and at home, as she saw it in her mirror, adorning her neck, Kitty felt that this ribbon spoke. Everything else might be dubious, but this ribbon was charming. Kitty smiled, even there at the ball, as she saw it in the mirror. In her bare shoulders and arms Kitty felt a sensation of marble coolness, a sensation which she especially enjoyed. Her eyes shone and her rosy lips could not refrain from smiling with the consciousness of how fascinating she was.
She had scarcely entered the ball-room and joined a group of tulle-, ribbon-, lace-, and flower-decorated ladies, who were waiting for partners,—Kitty never remained long in that category,—when she was invited to waltz with the best dancer, the principal cavalier in the whole hierarchy of the ball-room, the celebrated leader of the mazurka, the master of ceremonies, the handsome, elegant Yegorushka Korsunsky, a married man and a civilian. He had just left the Countess Bonina, with whom he had been taking the first turns of the waltz, and, while looking round over his domain, in other words, over the few couples who were venturing out on the floor, he perceived Kitty, made his way to her in that easy manner peculiar to leaders of the mazurka, bowed, and without even asking her permission put his arm around the young girl's slender waist. She looked for some one to whom to confide her fan; and the mistress of the mansion, smiling on her, took charge of it.
"How good of you to come early," said Korsunsky, as he put his arm around her waist. "I don't like the fashion of being late."
Kitty placed her left hand on her partner's shoulder, and her little feet, shod in rose-colored bashmaks, glided swiftly, lightly, and rhythmically over the polished floor.
"It is restful to dance with you," said he, as he fell into the slow measures of the waltz: "charming! such lightness! such precision!"
That was what he said to almost all his dancing acquaintances.
She smiled at his flattery, and continued to study the ball-room across her partner's shoulder. She was not such a novice in society as to find all faces blending in one magic sensation; she had not been so assiduous in her attendance at balls as to know every one present, and be tired of seeing them. But she was in that happy condition between these two extremes, she was exhilarated and at the same time she was sufficiently self-possessed to be able to look around and observe.
She noticed a group that had gathered in the left-hand corner of the ball-room, composed of the very flower of society. Korsunsky's wife, Lidi, a beauty in an extremely low-cut corsage, was there; the mistress of the mansion was there; there shone Krivin's bald head, always to be seen where the flower of society was gathered. Young men were looking at this group, and not venturing to join it. Then her eyes fell on Stiva, who was also there, and then she saw Anna's elegant figure dressed in black velvet. And he was there. Kitty had not seen him since the evening when she refused Levin. Kitty's keen eyes instantly recognized him across the room, and saw that he was looking at her.
"Shall we have one more turn? You are not fatigued?" asked Korsunsky, slightly out of breath,
"No, thank you."
"Where shall I leave you?"
"I think Madame Karenina is here; .... take me to her."
"Anywhere that you please."
And Korsunsky, still waltzing with Kitty but with a slower step, made his way toward the group on the left, saying as he went, "Pardon, mesdames; pardon, pardon, mesdames;" and steering skilfully through the sea of laces, tulle, and ribbons, without catching a feather, placed her in a chair after a final turn, which gave a glimpse of her slender ankles in dainty blue stockings, while her train spread out like a fan and covered Krivin's knees.
Korsunsky bowed, then straightened himself up, and offered Kitty his arm to conduct her to Anna Arkadyevna. Kitty, blushing a little, freed Krivin from the folds of her train, and, just a trifle dizzy, looked around in search of Anna. Anna was not dressed in violet, as Kitty had hoped, but in a low-cut black velvet gown, which showed her plump shoulders and bosom smooth as ivory, her beautiful round arms, and her delicate slender wrists. Her robe was adorned with Venetian guipure; on her head, gracefully set on her dark locks, was a little garland of heartsease[1]; and a similar bouquet was fastened in her black ribbon-belt in the midst of white lace. Her hair, which was all her own, was dressed very simply; there was nothing remarkable about it except the abundance of little natural curls, which strayed in fascinating disorder about her neck and temples. She wore a string of pearls about her firm round throat.
Kitty had seen Anna every day, and had fallen in love with her; but now that she saw her dressed in black, instead of the violet which she had expected, she was conscious that she had never before appreciated her full beauty. She saw her in a new and unexpected light. Now she realized that violet would not have been becoming to her, and that her charm consisted entirely in her independence of toilet; that her toilet was only an accessory, and her black gown with the magnificent laces was only an accessory, was only a frame for her, and nothing else was to be thought of but herself in all her simplicity, naturalness, elegance, and at the same time her gayety and animation.
When Kitty joined her she was standing in her usual erect attitude, talking with the master of the house, her head slightly bent toward him.
"No, I would not cast the first stone, though I don't understand about it," she was saying to him, slightly shrugging her shoulders; and then, perceiving Kitty, she turned to her with an affectionate and reassuring smile. With a woman's quick intuition she saw all the beauty of the young girl's toilet, and gave her an appreciative nod, which Kitty understood.
"You even dance into the ball-room," she said.
"She is the most faithful of my aids," said Korsunsky, addressing Anna Arkadyevna, whom he had not as yet seen. "The princess helps to make any ball-room gay and delightful. Anna Arkadyevna, will you take a turn?" he asked, with a bow.
"Ah! you are acquainted?" said the host.
"Who is it we don't know? My wife and I are like white wolves,—everybody knows us," replied Korsunsky. "A little waltz, Anna Arkadyevna?"
"I don't dance when I can help it," she replied.
"But you can't help it to-night," said Korsunsky. At this moment Vronsky joined them.
"Well! if I can't help dancing, let us dance," said she, placing her hand on Korsunsky's shoulder, and not replying to Vronsky's salutation.
"Why is she vexed with him?" thought Kitty, noticing that Anna purposely paid no attention to Vronsky's bow. Vronsky joined Kitty, reminded her that she was engaged to him for the first quadrille, and expressed regret that he had not seen her for so long. Kitty, while she was looking with admiration at Anna as she waltzed, listened to Vronsky. She expected that he would invite her; but he did nothing of the sort, and she looked at him with astonishment. A flush came into his face, and he hastily suggested that they should waltz; but he had scarcely put his arm around her slender waist and taken the first step, when suddenly the music stopped. Kitty looked into his face, which was close to her own, and for many a long day, even after years had passed, the loving look which she gave him and which he did not return tore her heart with cruel shame.
"Pardon! pardon! A waltz! a waltz!" cried Korsunsky at the other end of the ball-room, and, seizing the first young lady at hand, he began once More to dance.
- ↑ Viola tricolor, called in Russian anyútini glázki, or Anna's eyes