Anna Karenina

‘Home,’ replied Vronsky. ‘I confess, I felt so pleasant last night after the Shcherbatskys’ that I didn’t want to go anywhere.’

‘Bold steeds I can tell by their something-or-other thighs, and young men in love by the look in their eyes,’ declaimed Stepan Arkadyich, exactly as he had done to Levin.

Vronsky smiled with a look that said he did not deny it, but at once changed the subject.

‘And whom are you meeting?’ he asked.

‘I? A pretty woman,’ said Oblonsky.

‘Really!’

‘Honi soit qui mal y pense!³¹ My sister Anna.’

‘Ah, you mean Karenina?’ said Vronsky.

‘I suppose you know her?’

‘I think I do. Or else, no ... I really can’t remember,’ Vronsky replied absentmindedly, vaguely picturing to himself at the name Karenina something standoffish and dull.

‘But surely you know Alexei Alexandrovich, my famous brother-in-law. The whole world knows him.’

‘That is, I know him by sight and by reputation. I know he’s intelligent, educated, something to do with religion ... But you know, it’s not in my ... not in my line,’ Vronsky added in English.

‘Yes, he’s a very remarkable man - a bit conservative, but a nice man,’ observed Stepan Arkadyich, ‘a nice man.’

‘Well, so much the better for him,’ said Vronsky, smiling. ‘Ah, you’re here.’ He turned to his mother’s tall old footman, who was standing by the door. ‘Come inside.’

Vronsky had recently felt himself attached to Stepan Arkadyich, apart from his general agreeableness for everyone, by the fact that in his imagination he was connected with Kitty.

‘Well, then, shall we have a dinner for the diva on Sunday?’ he said to him, smiling and taking his arm.

‘Absolutely. I’ll take up a collection. Ah, did you meet my friend Levin last night?’ asked Stepan Arkadyich.

‘Of course. But he left very early.’

‘He’s a nice fellow,’ Oblonsky went on. ‘Isn’t he?’

‘I don’t know why it is,’ answered Vronsky, ‘but all Muscovites, naturally excluding those I’m talking with,’ he added jokingly, ‘have something edgy about them. They keep rearing up for some reason, getting angry, as if they want to make you feel something ...’

‘There is that, it’s true, there is ...’ Stepan Arkadyich said, laughing merrily.

‘Soon now?’ Vronsky asked an attendant.

‘The train’s pulling in,’ the attendant answered.

The approach of the train was made more and more evident by the preparatory movements in the station, the running of attendants, the appearance of gendarmes and porters, and the arrival of those coming to meet the train. Through the frosty steam, workers in sheepskin jackets and soft felt boots could be seen crossing the curved tracks. The whistle of the engine could be heard down the line, and the movement of something heavy.

‘No,’ said Stepan Arkadyich, who wanted very much to tell Vronsky about Levin’s intentions regarding Kitty. ‘No, you’re wrong in your appraisal of my Levin. He’s a very nervous man and can be unpleasant, true, but sometimes he can be very nice. He has such an honest, truthful nature, and a heart of gold. But last night there were special reasons,’ Stepan Arkadyich went on with a meaningful smile, forgetting completely the sincere sympathy he had felt for his friend yesterday and now feeling the same way for Vronsky. ‘Yes, there was a reason why he might have been either especially happy, or especially unhappy.’

Vronsky stopped and asked directly:

‘Meaning what? Or did he propose to your belle-soeur^c last night? ...’

‘Maybe,’ said Stepan Arkadyich. ‘It seemed to me there was something of the sort yesterday. Yes, if he left early and was also out of sorts, then that’s it ... He’s been in love for so long, and I’m very sorry for him.’

‘Really! ... I think, however, that she can count on a better match,’ said Vronsky, and, squaring his shoulders, he resumed his pacing. ‘However, I don’t know him,’ he added. ‘Yes, it’s a painful situation! That’s why most of us prefer the company of Claras. There failure only proves that you didn’t have enough money, while here - your dignity is at stake. Anyhow, the train’s come.’

Indeed, the engine was already whistling in the distance. A few minutes later the platform began to tremble, and, puffing steam that was beaten down by the frost, the engine rolled past, with the coupling rod of the middle wheel slowly and rhythmically turning and straightening, and a muffled-up, frost-grizzled engineer bowing; and, after the tender, slowing down and shaking the platform still more, the luggage van began to pass, with a squealing dog in it; finally came the passenger carriages, shuddering to a stop.

A dashing conductor jumped off, blowing his whistle, and after him the impatient passengers began to step down one by one: an officer of the guards, keeping himself straight and looking sternly around; a fidgety little merchant with a bag, smiling merrily; a muzhik with a sack over his shoulder.