Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part Two/Chapter 30
CHAPTER XXX
As in all places where human beings congregate, so in the little German village where the Shcherbatskys went to take the waters, there is formed a sort of social crystallization which puts every one in his exact and unchangeable place. Just as a drop of water exposed to the cold always and invariably takes a certain crystalline form, so each new individual coming to the Spa immediately finds himself fixed in the place peculiar to him.
"Fürst Schtscherbatzsky sammt Gemïhlin und Tochter,"—Prince Shcherbatsky, wife, and daughter,—both by the apartments that they occupied, and by their name and the acquaintances that they found, immediately crystallized into the exact place that was predestined to deceive them.
This year a genuine German Fürstin, or princess, was at the Spa, and in consequence the crystallization of society took place even more energetically than usual. The Russian princess felt called on to present her daughter to the German princess, and the ceremony took place two days after their arrival. Kitty, dressed in a very simple toilet, that is to say, a very elegant summer costume imported from Paris, made a low and graceful courtesy. The Fürstin said:—
"I hope that the roses will soon bloom again in this pretty little face."
And immediately the Shcherbatsky family found themselves in the fixed and definite walk in life from which it was impossible to descend. They made the acquaintance of the family of an English Lady, of a German Gräfin, and her son who had been wounded in the late war, of a scientific man from Sweden, and of a M. Canut and his sister.
But, for the most part, the Shcherbatskys spontaneously formed social relations among the people from Moscow, among them Marya Yevgenyevna Rtishchevaya and her daughter, whom Kitty did not like because she likewise was ill on account of a love-affair, and a Moscow colonel whom she had seen in society since childhood, and known by his uniform and his epaulets, and who now, with his little eyes, and his bare neck and flowery cravats, seemed to Kitty supremely ridiculous, and the more unendurable because she could not get rid of him. When they were all established, it became very tiresome to Kitty, the more as her father had gone to Carlsbad, and she and her mother were left alone. She could not interest herself in her old acquaintances, because she knew that she should not find anything novel in them; and so her principal amusement was in studying the people whom she had never seen before. It was in accordance with Kitty's nature to see the best side of people, especially of strangers; and now, in making her surmises about the persons whom she saw,—who they were and what they were like and what relationship they bore to one another,—she amused herself in imagining the most wonderful and beautiful characters, and found justification for her observations.
Of all these people, there was one in whom she took a most lively interest: this was a young Russian girl who had come to the baths with a sick Russian lady named Madame Stahl. Madame Stahl belonged to the high nobility; but she was so ill that she could not walk, and only occasionally, on very fine days, appeared at the baths in a wheeled-chair. But it was rather from pride than illness, as the princess judged, that she failed to make any acquaintances among the Russians. The girl was her nurse; and, as Kitty remarked, she frequently went to those who were seriously ill,—and there were many at the baths,—and with the most natural, unaffected zeal, took care of them.
This young Russian girl, Kitty discovered to her surprise, was no relation to Madame Stahl, nor even a hired companion. Madame Stahl called her simply Varenka, but her friends called her "Mademoiselle Varenka." Kitty not only found it extremely interesting to study the relations between this young girl and Madame Stahl, and other persons whom she did not know, but, as often happens, she also felt an unaccountable sympathy drawing her toward Mademoiselle Varenka; and, when their eyes met, she imagined that it pleased her also.
This Mademoiselle Varenka was not only no longer in her first youth, but she seemed like a creature without any youth; her age might be guessed as either nineteen or thirty. If one analyzed her features, she was rather good-looking in spite of the sickly pallor of her face. If her head had not been rather large, and her figure too slight, she would have been considered handsome; but she was not one to please men; she made one think of a beautiful flower, which, though still preserving its petals, was faded and without perfume. There was one other reason why she could not be attractive to men, and that was the fact that she lacked exactly what Kitty had in excess—the repressed fire of life and a consciousness of her fascination.
Varenka seemed always absorbed in some important work; and therefore it seemed she could not take any interest in anything irrelevant. It was this very contrast to herself that especially attracted Kitty to her. Kitty felt that in her and in her mode of life she might find what she was seeking with so much trouble,—an interest in life, the dignity of life outside of the social relationships of young women to young men, which now seemed to Kitty like an ignominious exposure of merchandise waiting for a purchaser. The more she studied her unknown friend, the more convinced she became that this girl was the most perfect creature which she could imagine and the more she longed to become acquainted with her.
The two girls passed each other many times every day; and every time they met Kitty's eyes seemed always to ask: "Who are you? What are you? Are you not, in truth, the charming person that I imagine you to be? But for Heaven's sake," the look seemed to add, "don't think that I would permit myself to demand your acquaintance! I simply admire you, and love you."
"I also love you, and you are very, very charming; and I would love you still better, if I had time," replied the unknown maiden's look; and indeed Kitty saw that she was always busy. Either she was taking the children of a Russian family home from the baths, or carrying a plaid for an invalid and wrapping her up in it, or she was trying to divert some irritable sick man, or selecting and buying confections for some other sick persons.
One morning, soon after the arrival of the Shcherbatskys, two new persons appeared who immediately became the object of rather unfriendly criticism. The one was a very tall, stooping man, with enormous hands, black eyes, at once innocent and terrifying, and wearing an old, ill-fitting, short coat. The other was a pock-marked woman, with a kindly face, and dressed very badly and inartistically.
Kitty instantly recognized that they were Russians; and in her imagination set to work constructing a beautiful and touching romance about them. But the princess, learning by the kurliste, or list of arrivals, that this was Nikolaï Levin and Marya Nikolayevna, explained to her what a bad man this Levin was, and all her illusions about these two persons vanished.
The fact that he was Konstantin Levin's brother, even more than her mother's words, suddenly made these two people particularly repulsive to Kitty. This Levin, with his habit of twitching his head, aroused in her an unsurmountable feeling of repulsion. It seemed to her that in his great, wild eyes, as they persistently followed her, was expressed a sentiment of hatred and irony, and she tried to avoid meeting him.