Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part Four/Chapter 5
CHAPTER V
The reception-room of the celebrated Petersburg lawyer was full of people when Alekseï Aleksandrovitch entered it. Three ladies, one old, another young, and a merchant's wife; three men, a German banker with a ring on his hand, a merchant with a beard, and a sullen-looking official in undress-uniform with a decoration around his neck, had apparently been waiting a long time.
Two clerks were writing with scratching pens. Their writing utensils—and Alekseï Aleksandrovitch was a connoisseur of such things—were of unusual excellence. Alekseï could not fail to take note of that fact. One of the clerks turned his head, with an air of annoyance, toward the newcomer, and, without rising, asked him, with half-closed eyes:—
"What do you want?"
"I have business with the lawyer."
"He is busy," replied the clerk severely, pointing with his pen toward those who were already waiting; and he went back to his writing.
"Will he not find a moment to receive me?" asked Alekseï Aleksandrovitch.
"He is not at liberty a single moment; he is always busy: have the goodness to wait."
"Be so good as to give him my card," said Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, with dignity, seeing that it was impossible to preserve his incognito.
The secretary took his card, and, evidently not approving of it, left the room.
Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, on principle, approved of public courts, but he did not fully sympathize with certain details of its application in Russia, because of his acquaintance with its working in the best official relations, and he criticized them as far as he could criticize anything that received the sanction of the supreme power. His whole life was spent in administrative activity, and consequently when he did not sympathize with anything, his lack of sympathy was modified by his recognition of the fact that errors were unavoidable, but that some things might be remedied. In the new judicial arrangement he did not approve of the conditions in which the lawyers were placed. Hitherto he had not had occasion to deal with lawyers, and so he had disapproved of the system only theoretically. But now his disapprobation was greatly increased by the disagreeable impression made on him in the lawyer's reception-room.
"The lawyer will be out immediately," said the clerk; and in reality in about two minutes the door opened, and the lawyer appeared, together with a tall justice of the peace.
The lawyer was a short, thick-set man, with a bald head, a dark reddish beard, a prominent forehead, and long, shiny eyebrows. His dress, from his necktie and double watch-chain down to his polished boots, was that of a dandy. His face was intelligent, but vulgar; his manner pretentious and in bad taste.
"Be so good as to walk in," said he, addressing Alekseï Aleksandrovitch; and gloomily ushering him into the next room, he closed the door.
"Will you not sit?"
He pointed to an arm-chair near his desk covered with papers, and rubbing his short, hairy hands together, he settled himself in front of the desk, and bent his head to one side. But he was hardly seated when a moth-miller flew on the table, and the little man, with unexpected liveliness, caught it on the wing; then he quickly resumed his former attitude.
"Before beginning to explain my business," said Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, following the movements of the lawyer with astonishment, "I must inform you that the subject which brings me here is to be kept secret."
An imperceptible smile slightly moved the lawyer's projecting reddish mustache.
"If I were not capable of keeping the secrets intrusted to me, I should not be a lawyer," said he; "but if you wish to be assured ...."Alekseï Aleksandrovitch glanced at him and noticed that his gray eyes, full of intelligence, had apparently read all that he had to tell.
"Do you know my name?" asked Alekseï Aleksandrovitch.
"I know you and how valuable"—here again he caught a miller—"your services are, as every Russian does," replied the lawyer, bowing.
Alekseï Aleksandrovitch sighed; with difficulty he brought himself to speak; but when he had once begun, he continued unhesitatingly, in a clear, sharp voice, emphasizing certain words.
"I have the misfortune to be a deceived husband. I wish to obtain legal separation from my wife,—that is, a divorce,—and, above all, to separate my son from his mother."
The lawyer's gray eyes did their best to remain serious, but they danced with unrestrained delight, and Alekseï Aleksandrovitch saw that they were full of an amusement not caused solely by the prospect of a good suit; they shone with enthusiasm, with triumph,—something like the brilliancy he had noticed in his wife's eyes.
"You wish my assistance to obtain the divorce?"
"Yes, exactly; but I must warn you that I run the risk of wasting your time, I have only come to ask preliminary advice. I wish a divorce, but for me certain forms are essential in which it is possible. Very possibly I shall give up the idea of any legal attempt if these forms do not coincide with my requirements."
"Oh, that is always the way," said the lawyer; "you will always remain perfectly free."
The little man, that he might not offend his client by the delight which his face ill concealed, fixed his eyes on Alekseï Aleksandrovitch's feet. He saw a moth flying in front of his nose and he put out his hand, but he restrained himself, out of respect to Alekseï Aleksandrovitch's situation.
"The general features of the laws of divorce are well known to me," continued Alekseï Aleksandrovitch; "but I should like to have a general knowledge of the formalities which are employed in the practical settlement of affairs of this kind."
"You wish," replied the lawyer, not raising his eyes and entering with no little satisfaction into the spirit of his client's words, "you wish me to expound for you the way whereby your wishes may be fulfilled."
And, as Alekseï Aleksandrovitch assented with an inclination of his head, he continued, casting a furtive glance now and then at his face, which was flushed with red spots.
"Divorce, according to our laws," said he, with a slight shade of disdain for our laws, "is possible, as you know, in the following cases.... Let them wait!" he cried, seeing his clerk open the door. However, he rose, went to say a few words to him, came back, and sat down again: ".... in the following cases: physical defect of one of the parties; next, the unexplained absence of one of them for five years,"—in making this enumeration he bent down his short, hairy fingers, one after another,—"and finally, adultery." This word he pronounced with evident satisfaction. "The categories are as follows:"—he kept on doubling over his fat fingers, although the case before him and the categories, it was plain enough, could not be classified together,—"physical incapacity of husband or wife, then adultery of husband or wife." Then as all his fingers were closed he raised them all again and proceeded: "This is the theoretical view, but I think that, in doing me the honor to consult me, you desire to know the practical side, do you not? And therefore, guiding myself by antecedents, it is my duty to inform you that as this case is neither one of physical defect, nor absence of one of the parties, as I understand?" ....
Alekseï Aleksandrovitch bowed his head in confirmation of this.
"The reason last named remains,—adultery,—and the conviction of the guilty party by mutual consent, and without mutual consent, compulsory conviction. I must say that the last case is rarely met with in practice," said the lawyer; and he glanced at his client and waited like a gunsmith who explains to a purchaser the use of two pistols of different caliber, leaving him free to choose between them.
But Alekseï Aleksandrovitch remaining silent, he continued:—
"The commonest, simplest, and most reasonable way, in my opinion, is to recognize the guilt by mutual agreement. I should not allow myself to say this if I were talking to a man of less experience than yourself," said the lawyer, "but I suppose that this is comprehensible to you."
Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, however, was so troubled that he did not at the first moment realize the reasonableness of "adultery, by mutual agreement," and this uncertainty was to be read in his eyes; but the lawyer came at once to his aid.
"Suppose that a man and wife can no longer live together; if both consent to a divorce, the details and formalities amount to nothing. This is the simplest and surest way."
Alekseï Aleksandrovitch understood now, but he had religious convictions which stood in the way of his employing this measure.
"In the present case this means is out of the question," said he. "Here only one case is possible: compulsory conviction, supported by letters which are in my possession."
At the mention of letters, the lawyer, pressing his lips together, uttered an exclamation both of pity and disdain.
"Please take notice," he began, "affairs of this sort are, as you well know, decided by the upper clergy," he said. "Our Fathers the protopopes are great connoisseurs in affairs of this kind and attend to the minutest details," said he, with a smile which showed his sympathy for the protopopes. "Letters undoubtedly might serve as partial evidence. But proofs must be furnished in the right way—by witnesses. However, if you do me the honor to grant me your confidence, you must give me the choice of measures to be pursued. Where there is a will, there is a way."
"If that is so...." began Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, suddenly growing very pale. But at that instant the lawyer again ran to the door, to reply to a fresh interruption from his clerk.
"Tell her, then, that this is not a cheap shop," said he and returned to Alekseï Aleksandrovitch. As he returned to his place he caught another moth.
"My reps will be in a fine condition by summer!" he said to himself, scowling.
"You were kind enough to say ...."
"I will communicate to you my decision by letter," replied Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, standing up and leaning his hand on the table. After standing for a moment in thought, he said:—
"From your words I conclude that a divorce is possible. I shall be obliged to you if you will make your conditions known to me."
"Everything is possible if you will give me entire freedom of action," said the lawyer, eluding the last question. "When may I expect a communication from you?" asked he, moving to the door with eyes as shiny as his boots.
"Within a week. You will then have the goodness to let me know whether you accept the case, and on what terms?"
"Very good."
The lawyer bowed respectfully, conducted his client to the door, and when he was left alone, he gave vent to his feelings of joy; he felt so gay that, contrary to his principles, he made a deduction to a lady skilled in the art of making a bargain, and neglected to catch a moth, resolving definitely that he would have his furniture upholstered the next winter with velvet, as Sigonin had.