Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 5
CHAPTER V
Stepan Arkadyevitch had done well at school, by reason of his excellent natural gifts, but he was lazy and mischievous, and consequently had been at the foot of his class; but, in spite of his irregular habits, his low rank in the Service, and his youth, he, nevertheless, held an important salaried position as nachalnik, or president of one of the courts in Moscow. This place he had secured through the good offices of his sister Anna's husband, Alekseï Aleksandrovitch Karenin, who occupied one of the most influential positions in the ministry of which he was a member. But even if Karenin had not been able to get this place for his brother-in-law, a hundred other people—brothers, sisters, cousins, second cousins, uncles, aunts—would have got it for Stiva Oblonsky, or some place as good, together with the six thousand rubles' salary which he needed for his establishment, his affairs being somewhat out of order in spite of his wife's considerable fortune.
Half the people of Moscow and St. Petersburg were relatives or friends of Stepan Arkadyevitch; he was born into the society of the rich and powerful of this world. A third of the older officials attached to the court and in government employ had been friends of his father, and had known him from the time when he wore petticoats; a second third addressed him familiarly in the second person singular; the others were "hail fellows well met." He had, therefore, as his friends, all those whose function it is to dispense earthly blessings in the shape of places, leases, concessions, and the like, and who could not neglect their own. And so Oblonsky had no special difficulty in obtaining an excellent place. All he had to do was not to shirk, not to be jealous, not to be quarrelsome, not to be thin-skinned, and he never gave way to these faults, because of his natural good temper. It would have seemed ridiculous to him if he had been told that he could not have any salaried place that he wanted, because it did not seem to him that he demanded anything extraordinary. He asked only for what his companions were obtaining, and he felt that he was as capable as any of them of performing the duties of such a position.
Stepan Arkadyevitch was liked by every one for his good and amiable character and his unimpeachable honesty. There was moreover something in his brilliant and attractive personality, in his bright, sparkling eyes, his black brows, his hair, his vivid coloring, which exercised a strong physical influence as of friendliness and gayety on those who came in touch with him.
"Aha, Stiva! Oblonsky! Here he is!" people would generally say, with a smile of pleasure. Even if it happened that the results of meeting him were not particularly gratifying, nevertheless people were just as glad to meet him the second day and the third.
After filling for three years the office of nachalnik of one of the chief judiciary positions in Moscow, Stepan Arkadyevitch had gained, not only the friendship, but also the respect of his colleagues, both those above and those below him in station, as well as of all who had had dealings with him. The principal qualities that had gained him this universal esteem were, first, his extreme indulgence for people, and this was founded on his knowledge of his own weaknesses; secondly, his absolute liberality, which was not the liberalism which he read about in the newspapers, but that which was in his blood, and caused him to be agreeable to every one, in whatever station in life; and thirdly and principally, his perfect indifference to the business which he transacted, so that he never lost his temper, and therefore never made mistakes.
As soon as he reached his tribunal, Stepan Arkadyevitch, escorted by the solemn Swiss who bore his portfolio, went to his little private office, put on his uniform, and proceeded to the court-room. The clerks and other employees all stood up, bowing eagerly and respectfully. Stepan Arkadyevitch, as usual, hastened to his place, shook hands with his colleagues, and took his seat. He got off some pleasantry and made some remark suitable to the occasion, and then opened the session. No one better than he understood how far to go within the limits of freedom, frankness, and that official dignity which is so useful in the expedition of official business. A clerk came with papers, and, with the free and yet respectful air common to all who surrounded Stepan Arkadyevitch, spoke in the familiarly liberal tone which Stepan Arkadyevitch had introduced:—
"We have at last succeeded in obtaining reports from the Government of Penza. Here they are, if you care to ...."
"So we have them at last," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, touching the document with his finger. "Now, then, gentlemen ...."
And the proceedings began.
"If they knew," he said to himself, as he bent his head with an air of importance while the report was read, "how much their president, only half an hour since, looked like a naughty school-boy!" and a gleam of amusement came into his eyes as he listened to the report.
The session generally lasted till two o'clock without interruption, and was followed by recess and luncheon. The clock had not yet struck two, when the great glass doors of the court-room were suddenly thrown open, and some one entered. All the members, glad of any diversion, looked round from where they sat under the Emperor's portrait and behind the zertsálo, or proclamation-table; but the doorkeeper instantly ejected the intruder, and shut the door on him.
After the business was read through, Stepan Arkadyevitch arose, stretched himself, and in a spirit of sacrifice to the liberalism of the time took out his cigarette, while still in the court-room, and then passed into his private office. Two of his colleagues, the aged veteran Nikitin, and the chamberlain Grinevitch, followed him.
"There'll be time enough to finish after luncheon," said Oblonsky.
"How we are rushing through with it!" replied Nikitin.
"This Famin must be a precious rascal," said Grinevitch, alluding to one of the characters in the affair which they had been investigating.
Stepan Arkadyevitch knitted his brows at Grinevitch's words, as if to signify that it was not the right thing to form snap judgments, and he made no reply.
"Who was it came into the court-room?" he asked of the doorkeeper.
"Some one who entered without permission, your excellency, while my back was turned. He asked to see you: I said, 'When the court adjourns, then ....'"
"Where is he?"
"Probably in the vestibule; he was there just now. Ah! there he is," said the doorkeeper, pointing to a solidly built, broad-shouldered man with curly beard, who, without taking off his sheepskin cap, was lightly and quickly running up the well-worn steps of the stone staircase. A lean chinovnik, on his way down, with a portfolio under his arm, stopped to look, with some indignation, at the newcomer's feet, and turned to Oblonsky with a glance of inquiry. Stepan Arkadyevitch stood at the top of the staircase, and his bright, good-natured face, set off by the embroidered collar of his uniform, was still more radiant when he recognized the visitor.
"Here he is! Levin, at last," he cried, with a friendly, ironical smile, as he looked at his approaching friend. "What! you got tired of waiting for me, and have come to find me in this den?" he went on to say, not satisfied with pressing his hand, but kissing him affectionately. "Have you been in town long?"
"I just got here, and was in a hurry to see you," said Levin, looking about him timidly, and at the same time with a fierce and anxious expression.
"Well, come into my office," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, who was aware of his visitor's egotistic sensitiveness, and, taking him by the hand, he led him along as if he were conducting him through manifold dangers.
Stepan Arkadyevitch addressed almost all his acquaintances with the familiar "thou,"—old men of three-score, young men of twenty, actors and ministers, merchants and generals, so that there were very many of these familiarly addressed acquaintances from both extremes of the social scale, and they would have been astonished to know that through Oblonsky they had something in common. He thus addressed all with whom he had drunk champagne, and he had drunk champagne with every one, and so when in the presence of his subordinates he met any of his shameful intimates, as he jestingly called some of his acquaintances, his characteristic tact was sufficient to diminish the disagreeable impressions that they might have.
Levin was not one of his shameful intimates, but Oblonsky instinctively felt that Levin might think he would not like to make a display of their intimacy before his subordinates, and so he hastened to take him into his private office.
Levin was about the same age as Oblonsky, and their intimacy was not based on champagne alone. Levin was a friend and companion from early boyhood. In spite of the difference in their characters and their tastes, they were fond of each other as friends are who have grown up together. And yet, as often happens among men who have chosen different spheres of activity, each, while approving the work of the other, really despised it. Each believed his own mode of life to be the only rational way of living, while that led by his friend was only illusion.
At the sight of Levin, Oblonsky could not repress a slight ironical smile. How many times had he seen him in Moscow just in from the country, where he had been doing something, though Oblonsky did not know exactly what and scarcely took any interest in it. Levin always came to Moscow anxious, hurried, a trifle annoyed, and vexed because he was annoyed, and generally bringing with him entirely new and unexpected views of things. Stepan Arkadyevitch laughed at this and yet liked it.
In somewhat the same way Levin despised the city mode of his friend's life, and his official employment, which he considered trifling, and made sport of it. But the difference between them lay in this: that Oblonsky, doing what every one else was doing, laughed self-confidently and good-naturedly, while Levin, because he was not assured in his own mind, sometimes lost his temper.
"We have been expecting you for some time," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, as he entered his office, and let go his friend's hand to show that the danger was past. "I am very, very glad to see you," he continued. "How goes it? how are you? When did you come?"
Levin was silent, and looked at the unknown faces of Oblonsky's two colleagues, and especially at the elegant Grinevitch's hand, with its long, white fingers and their long, yellow, and pointed nails, and his cuffs, with their huge, gleaming cuff-buttons. It was evident that his hands absorbed all of his attention and allowed him to think of nothing else. Oblonsky instantly noticed this, and smiled.
"Ah, yes," said he, "allow me to make you acquainted with my colleagues, Filipp Ivanuitch Nikitin, Mikhaïl Stanislavitch Grinevitch;" then turning to Levin, "A landed proprietor, a rising man, a member of the zemstsvo, and a gymnast who can lift two hundred pounds with one hand, a raiser of cattle, and huntsman, and my friend, Konstantin Dmitrievitch Levin, the brother of Sergyeï Ivanuitch Koznuishef."
"Very happy," said the little old man. "I have the honor of knowing your brother, Sergyeï Ivanuitch," said Grinevitch, extending his delicate hand with its long nails.
Levin frowned; he coldly shook hands, and turned to Oblonsky. Although he had much respect for his half-brother, a writer universally known in Russia, it was none the less unpleasant for him to be addressed, not as Konstantin Levin, but as the brother of the famous Koznuishef.
"No, I am no longer a worker in the zemstsvo. I have quarreled with everybody, and I don't go to the assemblies," said he to Oblonsky.
"This is a sudden change," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, with a smile. "But how? why?"
"It is a long story, and I will tell it some other time," replied Levin; but he nevertheless went on to say, "To make a long story short, I was convinced that no action amounts to anything, or can amount to anything, in our provincial assemblies." He spoke as if some one had insulted him. "On the one hand, they try to play Parliament, and I am not young enough and not old enough to amuse myself with toys; and, on the other hand,"—he hesitated,—"this serves the district ring to make a little money. There used to be guardianships, judgments; but now we have the zemstsvo, not in the way of bribes, but in the way of unearned salaries."
He spoke hotly, as if some one present had attacked his views.
"Aha! here you are, I see, in a new phase, on the conservative side," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "Well, we'll speak about this by and by."
"Yes, by and by. But I want to see you particularly," said Levin, looking with disgust at Grinevitch's hand.
Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled imperceptibly. "Did n't you say that you would never again put on European clothes?" he asked, examining his friend's new suit, evidently made by a French tailor. "Indeed, I see; 't is a new phase."
Levin suddenly grew red, not as grown men grow red, without perceiving it, but as boys blush, conscious that they are ridiculous by reason of their bashfulness, and therefore ashamed and made to turn still redder till the tears almost come. It gave his intelligent, manly face such a strange appearance that Oblonsky turned away and refrained from looking at him.
"But where can we meet? You see it is very, very necessary for me to have a talk with you," said Levin.
Oblonsky seemed to reflect.
"How is this? We will go and have luncheon at Gurin's, and we can talk there. At three o'clock I shall be free."
"No," answered Levin after a moment's thought; "I've got to take a drive."
"Well, then, let us dine together."
"Dine? But I have nothing very particular to say, only two words, to ask a question; afterward we can gossip."
"In that case, speak your two words now; we will chat while we are at dinner."
"These two words are .... however, it's nothing very important."
His face suddenly assumed a hard expression, due to his efforts in conquering his timidity. "What are the Shcherbatskys doing?—just as they used to?"
Stepan Arkadyevitch, who had long known that Levin was in love with his sister-in-law Kitty, almost perceptibly smiled, and his eyes flashed gayly. "You said 'two words'; but I cannot answer in two words, because .... excuse me a moment."
The secretary came in at this juncture with his familiar but respectful bearing, and with that modest assumption characteristic of all secretaries that he knew more about business than his superior. He brought some papers to Oblonsky; and, under the form of a question, he attempted to explain some difficulty. Without waiting to hear the end of the explanation, Stepan Arkadyevitch laid his hand affectionately on the secretary's arm.
"No, do as I asked you to," said he, tempering his remark with a smile; and, having briefly given his own explanation of the matter, he pushed away the papers, and said, "Do it so, I beg of you, Zakhar Nikititch."
The secretary went off confused. Levin during this scene with the secretary had entirely recovered from his embarrassment, and was standing with both arms resting on a chair; on his face was an ironical expression.
"I don't understand, I don't understand," said he.
"What don't you understand?" asked Oblonsky, smiling, and taking out a cigarette. He was expecting some sort of strange outbreak from Levin.
"I don't understand what you are up to," said Levin, shrugging his shoulders. "How can you do this sort of thing seriously?"
"Why not?"
"Why, because it is doing nothing."
"You think so? We are overwhelmed with work."
"On paper! Well, yes, you have a special gift for such things," added Levin.
"You mean that I .... there is something that I lack?"
"Perhaps so, yes. However, I cannot help admiring your high and mighty ways, and rejoicing that I have for a friend a man of such importance. But, you did not answer my question," he added, making a desperate effort to look Oblonsky full in the face.
"Now that's very good, very good! Go ahead, and you will succeed. 'T is well that you have eight thousand acres of land in the district of Karazinsk, such muscles, and the complexion of a little girl of twelve; but you will catch up with us all the same. .... Yes, as to what you asked me. There is no change, but I am sorry that it has been so long since you were in town."
"Why?" asked Levin in alarm.
"Well, it's nothing," replied Oblonsky; "we will talk things over. What has brought you now especially?"
"Akh! we will speak also of that by and by," said Levin, again reddening to his very ears.
"Very good. I understand you," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "You see, I should have taken you home with me to dinner, but my wife is not well to-day. If you want to see them, you will find them at the Zoölogical Gardens from four to five. Kitty is skating. You go there; I will join you later, and we will get dinner together somewhere."
"Excellent. Da svidanya!"
"Look here—you see I know you—you will forget all about it, or will suddenly be starting back to your home in the country," cried Stepan Arkadyevitch, with a laugh.
"No, truly I won't."
Levin left the room, and only when he had passed the door realized that he had forgotten to salute Oblonsky's colleagues.
"That must be a gentleman of great energy," said Grinevitch, after Levin had taken his departure.
"Yes, batyushka," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, throwing his head back. "He is a likely fellow. Eight thousand acres in the Karazinsky district! He has a future before him, and how vigorous he is! He is not like the rest of us."
"What have you to complain about, Stepan Arkadyevitch?"
"Well, things are bad, bad," replied Stepan Arkadyevitch, sighing heavily.