Kitty had repeated it without giving any significance to these words. But her mother understood it differently. She knew that the old woman was expected any day, knew that she would be glad of her son’s choice, and found it strange that he would not propose for fear of offending his mother; yet she so much wanted the marriage itself and, most of all, a rest from her anxieties, that she believed it. Painful as it was for the princess to see the unhappiness of her eldest daughter, Dolly, who was preparing to leave her husband, her worry over the deciding of her youngest daughter’s fate consumed all her feelings. Levin’s appearance that same day had added to her trouble. She was afraid that her daughter, who, as it seemed to her, had some feeling for Levin, might refuse Vronsky out of unnecessary honesty, and generally that Levin’s arrival might confuse and delay matters so near conclusion.
‘What about him, did he arrive long ago?’ the princess said of Levin as they returned home.
‘Today,
‘I only want to say ...’ the princess began, and by her seriously animated face Kitty could guess what the talk would be about.
‘Mama,’ she said, flushing and quickly turning to her, ‘please, please, don’t say anything about it. I know, I know it all.’
She wished for the same thing her mother did, but the motives for her mother’s wish offended her.
‘I only want to say that, having given hopes to one ...’
‘Mama, darling, for God’s sake, don’t speak. It’s so awful to speak of it.’
‘I won’t, I won‘t,’ her mother said, seeing the tears in her daughter’s eyes, ‘but one thing, my dearest: you promised me you wouldn’t have any secrets from me. You won’t?’
‘Never, mama, none,’ Kitty answered, blushing and looking straight into her mother’s face. ‘But I have nothing to tell now. I... I... even if I wanted to, I don’t know what to say or how ... I don’t know ...’
‘No, she can’t tell a lie with such eyes,’ her mother thought, smiling at her excitement and happiness. The princess was smiling at how immense and significant everything now happening in her soul must seem to the poor dear.
XIII
Between dinner and the beginning of the evening, Kitty experienced a feeling similar to that of a young man before battle. Her heart was beating hard, and she could not fix her thoughts on anything.
She felt that this evening, when the two of them would meet for the first time, must be decisive in her fate. And she constantly pictured them to herself, first each of them separately, then the two together. When she thought about the past, she paused with pleasure, with tenderness, over memories of her relations with Levin. Memories of childhood and memories of Levin’s friendship with her dead brother lent her relations with him a special poetic charm. His love for her, which she was certain of, was flattering and joyful for her. And it was easy for her to recall Levin. But in her recollections of Vronsky there was an admixture of something awkward, though he was in the highest degree a calm and worldly man. It was as if there were some falseness - not in him, he was very simple and nice - but in herself, while with Levin she felt completely simple and clear. But on the other hand, the moment she thought of a future with Vronsky, the most brilliantly happy prospects rose before her, while with Levin the future seemed cloudy.
Going upstairs to dress for the evening and glancing in the mirror, she noticed with joy that she was having one of her good days and was in full possession of all her powers, which she so needed for what lay ahead of her: she felt in herself an external calm and a free grace of movement.
At half-past seven, just as she came down to the drawing room, the footman announced: ‘Konstantin Dmitrich Levin.’ The princess was still in her room, and the prince also did not emerge. ‘That’s it,’ thought Kitty, and the blood rushed to her heart. Glancing in the mirror, she was horrified at her paleness.
Now she knew for certain that he had come earlier in order to find her alone and to propose. And only here did the whole matter present itself to her for the first time with quite a different, new side. Only here did she realize that the question concerned not just herself - with whom would she be happy and whom she loved - but that at this very minute she must hurt a man she loved. And hurt him cruelly ... Why? Because he, the dear man, loved her, was in love with her. But, no help for it, it must be so, it had to be so.
‘My God, can it be that I must tell him myself?’ she thought. ‘Well, what shall I tell him? Can I possibly tell him I don’t love him? It wouldn’t be true. What shall I tell him, then? That I love another man? No, that’s impossible. I’ll go away, just go away.’