Part Five: Chapter 31

by Leo Tolstoy

　　As intensely as Anna had longed to see her son, and long as shehad been thinking of it and preparing herself for it, she hadnot in the least expected that seeing him would affect her sodeeply. On getting back to her lonely rooms in the hotel shecould not for a long while understand why she was there. "Yes,it's all over, and I am again alone," she said to herself, andwithout taking off her hat she sat down in a low chair by thehearth. Fixing her eyes on a bronze clock standing on a tablebetween the windows, she tried to think.

　　The French maid brought from abroad came in to suggest she shoulddress. She gazed at her wonderingly and said, "Presently." Afootman offered her coffee. "Later on," she said.

　　The Italian nurse, after having taken the baby out in her best,came in with her, and brought her to Anna. The plump, well-fedlittle baby, on seeing her mother, as she always did, held outher fat little hands, and with a smile on her toothless mouth,began, like a fish with a float, bobbing her fingers up and downthe starched folds of her embroidered skirt, making them rustle.It was impossible not to smile, not to kiss the baby, impossiblenot to hold out a finger for her to clutch, crowing and prancingall over; impossible not to offer her a lip which she sucked intoher little mouth by way of a kiss. And all this Anna did, andtook her in her arms and made her dance, and kissed her freshlittle cheek and bare little elbows; but at the sight of thischild it was plainer than ever to her that the feeling she hadfor her could not be called love in comparison with what she feltfor Seryozha. Everything in this baby was charming, but for somereason all this did not go deep to her heart. On her firstchild, though the child of an unloved father, had beenconcentrated all the love that had never found satisfaction. Herbaby girl had been born in the most painful circumstances and hadnot had a hundredth part of the care and thought which had been

　　concentrated on her first child. Besides, in the little girleverything was still in the future, while Seryozha was by nowalmost a personality, and a personality dearly loved. In himthere was a conflict of thought and feeling; he understood her,he loved her, he judged her, she thought, recalling his words andhis eyes. And she was forever--not physically only butspiritually--divided from him, and it was impossible to set thisright.

　　She gave the baby back to the nurse, let her go, and opened thelocket in which there was Seryozha's portrait when he was almostof the same age as the girl. She got up, and, taking off herhat, took up from a little table an album in which there werephotographs of her son at different ages. She wanted to comparethem, and began taking them out of the album. She took them allout except one, the latest and best photograph. In it he was ina white smock, sitting astride a chair, with frowning eyes andsmiling lips. It was his best, most characteristic expression.With her little supple hands, her white, delicate fingers, thatmoved with a peculiar intensity today, she pulled at a corner ofthe photograph, but the photograph had caught somewhere, and shecould not get it out. There was no paper knife on the table, andso, pulling out the photograph that was next to her son's (it wasa photograph of Vronsky taken at Rome in a round hat and withlong hair), she used it to push out her son's photograph. "Oh,here is he!" she said, glancing at the portrait of Vronsky, andshe suddenly recalled that he was the cause of her presentmisery. She had not once thought of him all the morning. Butnow, coming all at once upon that manly, noble face, so familiarand so dear to her, she felt a sudden rush of love for him.

　　"But where is he? How is it he leaves me alone in my misery?"she thought all at once with a feeling of reproach, forgettingshe had herself kept from him everything concerning her son. Shesent to ask him to come to her immediately; with a throbbingheart she awaited him, rehearsing to herself the words in whichshe would tell him all, and the expressions of love with which hewould console her. The messenger returned with the answer thathe had a visitor with him, but that he would come immediately,and that he asked whether she would let him bring with him PrinceYashvin, who had just arrived in Petersburg. "He's not comingalone, and since dinner yesterday he has not seen me," shethought; "he's not coming so that I could tell him everything,but coming with Yashvin." And all at once a strange idea came toher: what if he had ceased to love her?

　　And going over the events of the last few days, it seemed to herthat she saw in everything a confirmation of this terrible idea.The fact that he had not dined at home yesterday, and the factthat he had insisted on their taking separate sets of rooms inPetersburg, and that even now he was not coming to her alone, asthough he were trying to avoid meeting her face to face.

　　"But he ought to tell me so. I must know that it is so. If Iknew it, then I know what I should do," she said to herself,utterly unable to picture to herself the position she would be inif she were convinced of his not caring for her. She thought hehad ceased to love her, she felt close upon despair, andconsequently she felt exceptionally alert. She rang for her maidand went to her dressing room. As she dressed, she took morecare over her appearance than she had done all those days, asthough he might, if he had grown cold to her, fall in love withher again because she had dressed and arranged her hair in theway most becoming to her.

　　She heard the bell ring before she was ready. When she went intothe drawing room it was not he, but Yashvin, who met her eyes.Vronsky was looking through the photographs of her son, which shehad forgotten on the table, and he made no haste to look round ather.

　　"We have met already," she said, putting her little hand into thehuge hand of Yashvin, whose bashfulness was so queerly out ofkeeping with his immense frame and coarse face. "We met lastyear at the races. Give them to me," she said, with a rapidmovement snatching from Vronsky the photographs of her son, andglancing significantly at him with flashing eyes. "Were theraces good this year? Instead of them I saw the races in theCorso in Rome. But you don't care for life abroad," she saidwith a cordial smile. "I know you and all your tastes, though Ihave seen so little of you."

　　"I'm awfully sorry for that, for my tastes are mostly bad," saidYashvin, gnawing at his left mustache.

　　Having talked a little while, and noticing that Vronsky glancedat the clock, Yashvin asked her whether she would be staying muchlonger in Petersburg, and unbending his huge figure reached afterhis cap.

　　"Not long, I think," she said hesitatingly, glancing at Vronsky.

　　"So then we shan't meet again?"

　　"Come and dine with me," said Anna resolutely, angry it seemedwith herself for her embarrassment, but flushing as she alwaysdid when she defined her position before a fresh person. "Thedinner here is not good, but at least you will see him. There isno one of his old friends in the regiment Alexey cares for as hedoes for you."

　　"Delighted," said Yashvin with a smile, from which Vronsky couldsee that he liked Anna very much.

　　Yashvin said good-bye and went away; Vronsky stayed behind.

　　"Are you going too?" she said to him.

　　"I'm late already," he answered. "Run along! I'll catch you upin a moment," he called to Yashvin.

　　She took him by the hand, and without taking her eyes off him,gazed at him while she ransacked her mind for the words to saythat would keep him.

　　"Wait a minute, there's something I want to say to you," andtaking his broad hand she pressed it on her neck. "Oh, was itright my asking him to dinner?"

　　"You did quite right," he said with a serene smile that showedhis even teeth, and he kissed her hand.

　　"Alexey, you have not changed to me?" she said, pressing his handin both of hers. "Alexey, I am miserable here. When are wegoing away?"

　　"Soon, soon. You wouldn't believe how disagreeable our way ofliving here is to me too," he said, and he drew away his hand.

　　"Well, go, go!" she said in a tone of offense, and she walkedquickly away from him.