Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 13
CHAPTER XIII
After dinner, and during the first part of the evening, Kitty felt as a young man feels before a battle. Her heart beat violently, and she could not concentrate her thoughts.
She felt that this evening, when they two should meet for the first time, would decide her fate. She kept seeing them in her imagination, sometimes together, sometimes separately. When she thought of the past, pleasure, almost tenderness, filled her heart at the remembrance of her relations with Levin. The recollections of her childhood and of his friendship with her departed brother imparted a certain poetic charm to her relations with him. His love for her, of which she was certain, was flattering and agreeable to her, and she found it easy to think about Levin. In her thoughts about Vronsky there was something that made her uneasy, though he was a man to the highest degree polished and self-possessed; there seemed to be something false, not in him,—for he was very simple and good,—but in herself, while all was clear and simple in her relations with Levin. But while Vronsky seemed to offer her dazzling promises and a brilliant future, the future with Levin seemed enveloped in mist.
When she went up-stairs to dress for the evening and looked into the mirror, she noticed with delight that she was looking her loveliest, and that she was in full possession of all her powers, and what was most important on this occasion, that she felt at ease and entirely self-possessed.
At half-past seven, as she was going into the drawing-room, the lackey announced, "Konstantin Dmitritch Levin." The princess was still in her room; the prince had not yet come down. "It has come at last," thought Kitty, and all the blood rushed to her heart. As she glanced into a mirror, she was startled to see how pale she looked.
She knew now, for a certainty, that he had come early, so as to find her alone and offer himself. And instantly the situation appeared to her for the first time in a new, strange light. Then only she realized that the question did not concern herself alone, nor who would make her happy, nor whom she loved, but that she should have to wound a man whom she liked, and to wound him cruelly .... why, why was it that such a charming man loved her? Why had he fallen in love with her? But it was too late to mend matters; it was fated to be so.
"Merciful Heaven! is it possible that I myself must tell him," she thought,—"I must tell him that I don't love him? That is not true! But what can I say? That I love another? No, that is impossible. I will run away, I will run away!"
She had already reached the door, when she heard his step. "No, it is not honorable. What have I to fear? I have done nothing wrong. Let come what will, I will tell the truth! I shall not be ill at ease with him. Ah, here he is!" she said to herself, as she saw his strong but timid countenance, with his brilliant eyes fixed upon her. She looked him full in the face, with an air which seemed to implore his protection, and extended her hand.
"I am rather early, too early, I am afraid," said he, casting a glance about the empty room; and when he saw that his hope was fulfilled, and that nothing would prevent him from speaking, his face grew solemn.
"Oh, no!" said Kitty, sitting down near a table.
"But it is exactly what I wanted, so that I might find you alone," he began, without sitting, and without looking at her, lest he should lose his courage.
"Mamma will be here in a moment. She was very tired to-day. To-day .... "
She spoke without knowing what her lips said, and did not take her imploring and gentle gaze from his face.
Levin gazed at her; she blushed, and stopped speaking.
"I told you to-day that I did not know how long I should stay .... that it depended on you .... "
Kitty drooped her head lower and lower, not knowing how she should reply to the words that he was going to speak.
"That it depended upon you," he repeated. "I meant .... I meant .... I came for this, that .... be my wife," he murmured, not knowing what he had said; but, feeling that he had got through the worst of the difficulty, he stopped and looked at her.
She felt almost suffocated; she did not raise her head. She felt a sort of ecstasy. Her heart was full of happiness. Never could she have believed that the declaration of his love would make such a deep impression upon her. But this impression lasted only a moment. She remembered Vronsky. She raised her sincere and liquid eyes to Levin, and, seeing his agitated face, said hastily:—
"This cannot be! .... Forgive me!"
How near to him, a moment since, she had been, and how necessary to his life! and now how far away and strange she suddenly seemed to be!
"It could not have been otherwise," he said, without looking at her.
He bowed and was about to leave the room.