Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part Seven/Chapter 18

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
4366874Anna Karenina (Dole) — Chapter 18Nathan Haskell DoleLeo Tolstoy

CHAPTER XVIII

"Now, I have yet one more thing to talk over with you; and you know what it is about,—Anna," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, after a moment's silence, and shaking off these disagreeable memories.

When Oblonsky spoke Anna's name, Karenin's face entirely changed; in place of its former vivacity it took on an expression of corpse-like rigidity and weariness.

"What more do you want of me?" said he, turning about on his arm-chair, and shutting his pince-nez.

"A decision .... some sort of a decision, Alekseï Aleksandrovitch. I address you, not as...." he was going to say "a deceived husband," but fearing it might hurt his cause he stopped, and substituted with little appropriateness, "not as a statesman, but simply as a man, and a good man and a Christian. You ought to have pity on her."

"In what way could I, properly?" asked Karenin, quietly.

"Yes, have pity upon her. If you saw her as I do,—I have seen her all winter,—you would pity her. Her position is cruel."

"I thought," said Karenin, suddenly, in a piercing, almost whining voice, "that Anna Arkadyevna had obtained all that she wished."

"Oh! Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, for God's sake, let us not make recriminations. What is past is past; and you know what she is now waiting for and hoping for is .... the divorce."

"But I understood, that in case I kept my son, Anna Arkadyevna refused the divorce; and so my silence was equivalent to a reply, and I thought the question settled. I consider it settled," said he, with more and more warmth.

"For God's sake don't get angry," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, touching his brother-in-law's knee. "This question is not settled. If you will allow me to recapitulate, the affair stands thus: When you separated, you were as great, as magnanimous, as was possible to be. You granted her everything .... her freedom, even a divorce if she wanted one. She appreciated it. No, you don't think so; but she appreciated it absolutely,—to such a degree that, at first, feeling her guilt toward you, she did not, she could not, reason about it at all. She refused everything. But the reality and time have shown her that her position is painful and intolerable."

"Anna Arkadyevna's life cannot interest me," said Karenin, raising his eyebrows.

"Permit me to disbelieve that," replied Stepan Arkadyevitch, gently. "Her position is painful to her, and without any escape whatever. She deserves it, you say. She acknowledges that, and does not complain. She says up and down that she should never dare to ask anything of you. But I, and all of her relatives, all who love her, beg and implore you to have pity on her. Why should she suffer? Whose advantage is it?"

"Excuse me; you seem to accuse me of being to blame." ....

"Oh! not at all, not at all, understand me," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, touching Karenin's arm, as if he believed that personal contact would have a mollifying effect on his brother-in-law. "I merely say this. Her position is painful; and you can relieve it, and it will not cost you anything. I will so arrange the matter that you shall have no trouble about it. Besides, you have promised."

"My consent has been already given; and I had supposed that the question of our son had decided the matter. Besides, I hoped that Anna Arkadyevna would in her turn have the generosity to understand ...." his trembling lips could hardly utter the words, and he turned pale.

"She leaves all to your magnanimity. She asks, she implores, for only one thing—to be relieved from this unendurable position in which she finds herself. She asks for her son. Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, you are a good man. Just enter for a moment into her feelings. The question of the divorce is for her a matter of life or death. If you had not given your promise, she would have been resigned to her situation, and lived in the country. But you did give your promise; and she wrote you, and came to Moscow. And there in Moscow, where every familiar face was a knife in her heart, she has been living for six months, every day expecting an answer. Her situation is that of a condemned criminal, who for months has had the rope around his neck, and does not know whether he is to expect pardon or execution. Pity her; and, besides, I will take care to arrange all.... vos scrupules." ....

"I am not speaking of that, not of that ...." said Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, with some disgust; "but perhaps I promised more than I had the right to promise."

"Then, you refuse to do what you have promised?" ....

"I never refused to do all that I could; but I must have time to consider how far what I promised is permissible."

"No, Alekseï Aleksandrovitch," said Oblonsky, leaping to his feet, "I do not wish to believe this. She is as unhappy as it is possible for a woman to be; and you cannot refuse such ...."

"How far what I promised is permissible? Vous professez d'être un libre penseur; but I, as a believer, cannot defy the law of Christianity in a matter so important."

"But in Christian communities, and here in Russia, divorce is permitted," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "Divorce is permitted by our Church, and we see ...."

"Permitted, but not in this sense."

"Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, I don't know you," said Oblonsky, after a moment's silence. "You are not the same man you were. Did you not forgive all? .... and did we not appreciate your magnanimity? .... were you not moved by genuine Christian feeling? Weren't you ready to sacrifice everything? You yourself said, 'If any man will take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also.' And now...."

"I beg of you," said Karenin, rising suddenly, and turning pale, and with a trembling jaw, "I beg of you," he said, in a high-pitched voice, "to cut short, to cut short this conversation!"

"Oh, well, pardon me, pardon me, if I have offended you!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, in confusion, holding out his hand;" but I had to fulfil the mission I was charged with."

Alekseï Aleksandrovitch gave him his hand, and said, after a moment's reflection:—

"I must have time to think about it, and seek for light. You shall have my final answer day after tomorrow."