Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part Eight/Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII
Agafya Mikhaïlovna went away on tiptoe; the nurse closed the blinds, chased away the flies which were hidden under the muslin curtain of the cradle; then she sat down, and began to wave a little withered branch over the mother and child.
"It's hot, hot! pray God, He may send a little shower," she said.
"Da! da! sh-sh-sh," was the mother's reply, as she rocked gently to and fro, and pressed Mitya to her breast. His eyelids now opened, and now closed; and he languidly moved his chubby arm. This little arm disturbed Kitty; she felt a strong inclination to kiss it, but she feared to do so lest it should wake him. At last the arm began to droop, and the eyes closed more and more. Only rarely now he would raise his long lashes, and gaze at his mother with his dark, dewy eyes. The nurse began to nod, and dropped off into a nap. Overhead she could hear the old prince's voice, and Katavasof's sonorous laugh.
"Evidently, they don't need me to help in the conversation," thought Kitty; "but it is too bad that Kostia is not there; he must have gone to his bees. Sometimes it disturbs me to have him spend so much time over them; but then, on the whole, I am glad; it diverts him, and he is certainly more cheerful than he was in the spring. Then he was so gloomy, and so unhappy! What a strange man he is!"
Kitty knew what caused her husband's disquiet. It was his doubting spirit; and although, if she had been asked if she believed that, in the world to come, he would fail of salvation owing to his want of faith, she would have been compelled to say yes, yet his skepticism did not make her unhappy; and she, who believed that there was no salvation for the unbelieving, and loved more than all else in the world her husband's soul, smiled as she thought of his skepticism, and called him a strange man.
"Why does he spend all his time reading those philosophical books? If all this is written in those books, then he can understand them. But if it is not true, why does he read them? He himself says that he longs for faith. Why does n't he believe? Probably he thinks too much; and he thinks too much because he is lonely. He is always alone. He can't speak out all his thoughts to us. I think he will be glad that these guests have come, especially Katavasof. He likes to discuss with him."
And immediately Kitty's thoughts were diverted by the question where it would be best for Katavasof to sleep. Ought he and Sergyeï Ivanovitch to have a room together or apart? And here a sudden thought made her start, so that she disturbed Mitya, who opened his eyes and looked at her reproachfully.
"The washerwoman has n't brought back the linen. I hope Agafya Mikhaïlovna has n't given out all we had!" and the color rushed to Kitty's forehead.
"There, I must find out myself," thought she; and, reverting to her former thoughts, she remembered that she had not finished the important train of spiritual thoughts which she had begun, and she once more repeated:—"Yes, Kostia is an unbeliever;" and, as she did so, she smiled.
"Yes, he is an unbeliever, but I'd far liefer he should always be one than a person like Madame Stahl, or as I wanted to be when I was abroad. At any rate, he will never be hypocritical." And a recent example of his goodness recurred vividly to her memory.
Several weeks before, Stepan Arkadyevitch had written Dolly a letter of repentance. He begged her to save his honor by selling her property to pay his debts.
Dolly was in despair. She hated her husband, despised him; and at first she made up her mind to refuse his request, and apply for a divorce; but afterward she decided to sell a part of her estate. Kitty, with an involuntary smile of emotion, recalled her husband's confusion, his various awkward attempts to find a way of helping Dolly, and how, at last, he came to the conclusion that the only way to accomplish it without wounding her was to make over to Dolly their part of this estate.
"How can he be without faith, when he has such a warm heart, and is afraid to grieve even a child? He never thinks of himself—always of others. Sergyeï Ivanovitch finds it perfectly natural to consider him his business manager; so does his sister. Dolly and her children have no one else but him to lean upon. He is always sacrificing his time to the peasants, who come to consult him every day.
"Yes; you cannot do better than to try to be like your father," she murmured, touching her lips to her son's cheek, before laying him into the nurse's arms.