Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part Four/Chapter 23
CHAPTER XXIII
Vronsky's wound was dangerous, although it did not reach the heart. He hung for several days between life and death. When for the first time he was in a condition to talk, only Varia, his brother's wife, was in his room.
"Varia!" said he, looking at her gravely, "I shot myself accidentally. Now please never speak to me about this, but tell every one so; otherwise it will seem too stupid!"
Varia bent over him without replying, examining his face with a happy smile. His eyes were bright, but no longer feverish, but their expression was stern.
"Well! Thank the Lord!" she replied. "Are you suffering?"
"A little on this side," said he, pointing to his chest.
"Let me change the dressing, then."
Squinting, he silently watched her change it, and when she had finished, he said:—
"I am not delirious now. See to it, I beg of you, that nobody says that I shot myself intentionally."
"Nobody says so. I hope, however, that after this you will not shoot yourself accidentally again," she said with a questioning smile.
"Probably I shall not; but it would have been better...."
And he smiled gloomily.
In spite of these words and this smile which so alarmed Varia, when the inflammation had subsided and he began to recover, he felt that he was free from a part of his misfortunes. By his action he had washed away, as it were, his shame and humiliation, which had weighed on him before. Henceforth he could think calmly of Alekseï Aleksandrovitch. He recognized all his magnanimity without being crushed by it. Besides, he was able to be himself again, to look people in the face, and could live, governing himself by his customary habits. What he could not tear from his heart, in spite of all his efforts, was the regret, bordering on despair, at having lost Anna forever; since he was firmly resolved, now that he had redeemed his fault toward Karenin, not to place himself between the repentant wife and her husband. But he could not put out of his heart the regret at the loss of her love; he could not blot out the memory of happy moments which he had spent with her, and not half appreciated till now, and which pursued him continually in all their fascination.
Serpukhovskoï thought of sending him to Tashkend, and Vronsky accepted the proposition without the least hesitation. But the nearer the time for his leaving came, the more cruel seemed the sacrifice to what he considered his duty.
His wound was healed, and he had already gone out and was engaged in making his preparations for his journey to Tashkend.
"To see her once more, and then bury myself and die," he thought; and while paying his farewell visit to Betsy, he expressed his wish to her.
The latter set out at once as an ambassador to Anna, but brought back her refusal.
"So much the better," thought Vronsky, on receiving her reply; "this is a weakness which would have cost me my last strength."
The next morning Betsy herself went to Vronsky, announcing that she had had, through Oblonsky, positive information that Alekseï Aleksandrovitch consented to a divorce, and that consequently Vronsky might see Anna.
Without even pausing to show Betsy from his room, forgetting his resolutions, without finding out when he could see her, or where her husband would be, Vronsky immediately went to the Karenins'. He flew up the steps, not seeing anything or any one, and with hasty steps, almost running, entered Anna's room, and, without even noticing whether there might not be some one else in the room, he took her in his arms, and began covering her hands, her face, and her neck with kisses.
Anna was prepared to see him again, and had made up her mind what to say to him; but she had no time to speak. Vronsky's passion overpowered her. She wanted to calm him, to calm herself, but it was already too late. Her lips trembled so that for a long time she was unable to speak a word.
"Yes, you have conquered me; I am yours!" she succeeded in saying at last, pressing his hand to her breast.
"So it had to be!" said he, "and as long as we live, it must be so; I know it now."
"It is true," she replied, growing paler and paler as she put her arms around Vronsky's neck. "However, there is something terrible in this after what has happened."
"All that will be forgotten, forgotten; we shall be so happy! If there were any need of our love increasing, it would increase, because there is something terrible about it," said he, raising his head, and displaying his strong teeth as he smiled.
She could only reply with a smile,—not with words,—with her eyes which expressed such love for him.
"I do know you with your short hair. You are lovely so! Just like a little boy! But how pale you are!"
"Yes; I am still very weak," she replied, smiling; and her lips began to tremble again.
"We will go to Italy; you will grow strong there," said he.
"Is it possible that we could be like husband and wife, alone, by ourselves?" said she, looking him in the eye.
"I am only surprised at one thing,—that it has not always been so."
"Stiva says that he will consent to everything, but I will not accept his generosity," said she, looking thoughtfully above Vronsky's head. "I do not wish for a divorce. It is all the same to me now. I only wonder what he will decide with regard to Serozha."
Vronsky could not understand how, in these first moments of their reunion, she could think of her son and of divorce. How could it be all the same to her?
"Don't speak of that, don't think of it," said he, turning Anna's hand over and over in his, to draw her attention to him; but she did not look at him.
"Oh! why did I not die? it would have been so much better!" said she; and though she did not sob, the tears rolled down her pale cheeks; she tried, nevertheless, to smile, that she might not give him pain.
Once Vronsky would have thought it impossible and disgraceful to give up the flattering and perilous mission to Tashkend, but now he refused it without any hesitation; then, noticing that his refusal was misinterpreted by the authorities, he gave in his resignation.
A month later, Alekseï Aleksandrovitch was left alone with his son, and Anna went abroad with Vronsky, without a divorce, and resolutely refusing to accept one.