Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part Two/Chapter 28
CHAPTER XXVIII
When Alekseï Aleksandrovitch reached the racecourse, Anna was already in her place beside Betsy, in the grand pavilion, where all the highest society was gathered in a brilliant throng. She saw her husband from a distance. Two men, her husband and her lover, were for her the two centers of life, and without the help of her external senses she felt their presence. Even when her husband was at a distance she was conscious of his presence, and she involuntarily followed him in that billowing throng in the midst of which he was coming along. She saw him approach the pavilion, now replying with condescension to ingratiating salutations, then cordially or carelessly exchanging greetings with his equals; then again assiduously watching to catch the glances of the great ones of the earth, and taking off his large, round hat, which came down to the top of his ears. Anna knew all these mannerisms of salutation, and they were all equally distasteful to her.
"Nothing but ambition; craze for success; it is all that his heart contains," she thought; "but his lofty views, his love for civilization, his religion, they are only means whereby to win success."
From the glances that Karenin cast on the pavilion, he was looking straight at his wife, but could not see her in the sea of muslin, ribbons, feathers, flowers, and sunshades—Anna knew he was looking for her, but she pretended not to see him.
"Alekseï Aleksandrovitch," cried the Princess Betsy, "don't you see your wife? here she is!"
He looked up with his icy smile.
"Everything is so brilliant here, that it blinds the eyes," he replied, as he came up the pavilion.
He smiled at Anna, as it is a husband's duty to do when he has only just left his wife, greeted Betsy and his other acquaintances, conducting himself in due form, in other words, jesting with the ladies, and exchanging compliments with the men.
A general-adjutant, well known for his wit and culture, and highly esteemed by Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, was standing below near the pavilion. Alekseï Aleksandrovitch joined him, and engaged in conversation. It was the interval between two of the races; the general-adjutant condemned racing. Alekseï Aleksandrovitch replied and defended them.
Anna heard his shrill, monotonous voice, and lost not a single word; and every word that he spoke seemed to her hypocritical and rangunpleasantly in her ear.
When the four-verst handicap-race began, she leaned forward, not letting Vronsky out of her sight for an instant. She saw him approach his horse, then mount it; and at the same time she heard her husband's odious, incessant voice. She was tormented with fear for Vronsky; but she was tormented still more by the sound of her husband's sharp voice, every intonation of which she knew; it seemed to her that he would never cease speaking,
"I am a wicked woman, a lost woman," she thought; "but I hate falsehood, I cannot endure lies; but to him"—meaning her husband—"lies are his daily food! He knows all, he sees everything; how much feeling has he, if he can go on speaking with such calmness? I should have some respect for him if he killed me, if he killed Vronsky. But no! what he prefers above everything is falsehood and conventionality," said Anna to herself, not exactly knowing what she wanted of her husband, whatever she might want him to see. She did not understand that the very volubility of Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, which irritated her so, was only the expression of his interior agitation and anxiety.
As a child, hurt when jumping, puts its muscles into motion to assuage the pain, so Alekseï Aleksandrovitch absolutely required some intellectual movement, so as to become oblivious to the thoughts about his wife that arose in his mind at the sight of Anna and at the sight of Vronsky, whose name he heard on all sides. And as it is natural for a child to jump, so for him was it natural to talk tersely and well.
"Danger," he was saying, "is an indispensable condition in these military and cavalry races. If England can show in her history the most glorious deeds of arms performed by her cavalry, she owes it solely to the historic development of vigor in her people and her horses. Sport, in my opinion, has a deep significance; and, as usual, we take it only in its superficial aspect."
"Not superficial," said the Princess Tverskaya; "they say that one of the officers has broken two ribs."
Alekseï Aleksandrovitch smiled with his smile which only uncovered his teeth and was perfectly expressionless.
"Let us admit, princess," said he, "that in this case it is not superficial, but serious[1] But that is not the point; "and he turned again to the general, and resumed his dignified discourse:—
"You must not forget that those who take part are military men who have chosen this career, and you must agree that every vocation has its reverse side of the medal. This belongs to the calling of war. Such brutal sport as boxing-matches and Spanish bull-fights are indications of barbarism, but specialized sport is a sign of development."
"No, I won't come another time," the Princess Betsy was saying; "it is too exciting for me; don't you think so, Anna?"
"It is exciting, but it is fascinating," said another lady; "if I had been a Roman, I should never have missed a single gladiatorial show."
Anna did not speak, but, with her opera-glass, was gazing intently at a single spot.
At this moment a tall general came across the pavilion. Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, breaking off his discourse abruptly, arose with dignity, and made a low bow.
"Are n't you racing?" asked the general, jestingly.
"My race is a far more difficult one," replied Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, respectfully; and though this answer was not remarkable for its sense, the military man seemed to think that he had received a witty repartee from a witty man, and appreciated la pointe de la sauce.
"There are two sides to the question," Alekseï Aleksandrovitch said, resuming,—"that of the participants, and that of the spectators; and I confess that a love for such spectacles is a genuine sign of inferiority in those that look on, but ...."
"Princess, a wager," cried the voice of Stepan Arkadyevitch from below, addressing Betsy. "Which side will you take?"
"Anna and I bet on Prince Kuzovlef," replied Betsy.
"I am for Vronsky. A pair of gloves."
"Good!"
"How jolly! isn't it?"
Alekseï Aleksandrovitch stopped speaking while this conversation was going on around him, and then he began anew:—
"I confess, unmanly games ...."
But at this instant the signal of departure was heard, and all conversation ceased. Alekseï Aleksandrovitch also ceased speaking; and every one stood up so as to look at the "river." But Alekseï Aleksandrovitch was not interested in the race, and so, instead of watching the riders, looked around the assembly with weary eyes. His gaze fell on his wife.
Her face was pale and stern. She evidently saw nothing and no one—except one person. Her hands convulsively clutched her fan; she held her breath. Karenin looked at her, then hastily turned away, gazing at the faces of other women.
"There is another lady very much moved, and still another just the same; it is very natural," said Alekseï Aleksandrovitch to himself. He did not wish to look at her; but his gaze was irresistibly drawn to her face. He once more gazed into her face, trying not to read in it what was so plainly pictured on it, and against his will he read, with feelings of horror, all that he had tried to ignore.
When Kuzovlef fell at the " river," the excitement was general; but Alekseï Aleksandrovitch saw clearly by Anna's pale, triumphant face that he that fell was not the one on whom her gaze was riveted.
When, after Makhotin and Vronsky crossed the great hurdle, another officer was thrown head first, and was picked up for dead, a shudder of horror ran through the assembly; but Alekseï Aleksandrovitch perceived that Anna did not even notice it, and scarcely knew what the people around her were talking about.
But he kept studying her face, with deeper and deeper attention. Anna, all absorbed as she was in the spectacle of Vronsky's course, was conscious that her husband's cold eyes were on her. She turned around for an instant and looked at him questioningly. Then with a slight frown she turned away.
"Akh! it is all the same to me," she seemed to say, as she turned her glass to the race. She did not look at him again.
The race was disastrous; out of the seventeen riders, more than half were thrown and hurt. Toward the end the excitement became intense, the more because the emperor was displeased.
- ↑ Vnutrenneye, internal.