Part One: Chapter 22

by Leo Tolstoy

　　The ball was only just beginning as Kitty and her mother walkedup the great staircase, flooded with light, and lined withflowers and footmen in powder and red coats. From the rooms camea constant, steady hum, as from a hive, and the rustle ofmovement; and while on the landing between trees they gave lasttouches to their hair and dresses before the mirror, they heardfrom the ballroom the careful, distinct notes of the fiddles ofthe orchestra beginning the first waltz. A little old man incivilian dress, arranging his gray curls before another mirror,and diffusing an odor of scent, stumbled against them on thestairs, and stood aside, evidently admiring Kitty, whom he didnot know. A beardless youth, one of those society youths whomthe old Prince Shtcherbatsky called "young bucks," in anexceedingly open waistcoat, straightening his white tie as hewent, bowed to them, and after running by, came back to ask Kittyfor a quadrille. As the first quadrille had already been givento Vronsky, she had to promise this youth the second. Anofficer, buttoning his glove, stood aside in the doorway, andstroking his mustache, admired rosy Kitty.

　　Although her dress, her coiffure, and all the preparations forthe ball had cost Kitty great trouble and consideration, at thismoment she walked into the ballroom in her elaborate tulle dressover a pink slip as easily and simply as though all the rosettesand lace, all the minute details of her attire, had not cost heror her family a moment's attention, as though she had been bornin that tulle and lace, with her hair done up high on her head,and a rose and two leaves on the top of it.

　　When, just before entering the ballroom, the princess, hermother, tried to turn right side out of the ribbon of her sash,Kitty had drawn back a little. She felt that everything must beright of itself, and graceful, and nothing could need settingstraight.

　　It was one of Kitty's best days. Her dress was notuncomfortable anywhere; her lace berthe did not droop anywhere;her rosettes were not crushed nor torn off; her pink slipperswith high, hollowed-out heels did not pinch, but gladdened herfeet; and the thick rolls of fair chignon kept up on her head asif they were her own hair. All the three buttons buttoned upwithout tearing on the long glove that covered her hand withoutconcealing its lines. The black velvet of her locket nestledwith special softness round her neck. That velvet was delicious;at home, looking at her neck in the looking glass, Kitty had feltthat that velvet was speaking. About all the rest there might bea doubt, but the velvet was delicious. Kitty smiled here too, atthe ball, when she glanced at it in the glass. Her bareshoulders and arms gave Kitty a sense of chill marble, a feelingshe particularly liked. Her eyes sparkled, and her rosy lipscould not keep from smiling from the consciousness of her ownattractiveness. She had scarcely entered the ballroom andreached the throng of ladies, all tulle, ribbons, lace, andflowers, waiting to be asked to dance--Kitty was never one ofthat throng--when she was asked for a waltz, and asked by thebest partner, the first star in the hierarchy of the ballroom, arenowned director of dances, a married man, handsome andwell-built, Yegorushka Korsunsky. He had only just left theCountess Bonina, with whom he had danced the first half of thewaltz, and, scanning his kingdom--that is to say, a few coupleswho had started dancing--he caught sight of Kitty, entering, andflew up to her with that peculiar, easy amble which is confinedto directors of balls. Without even asking her if she cared todance, he put out his arm to encircle her slender waist. Shelooked round for someone to give her fan to, and their hostess,smiling to her, took it.

　　"How nice you've come in good time," he said to her, embracingher waist; "such a bad habit to be late." Bending her left hand,she laid it on his shoulder, and her little feet in their pinkslippers began swiftly, lightly, and rhythmically moving over theslippery floor in time to the music.

　　"It's a rest to waltz with you," he said to her, as they fellinto the first slow steps of the waltz. "It's exquisite--suchlightness, precision." He said to her the same thing he said toalmost all his partners whom he knew well.

　　She smiled at his praise, and continued to look about the roomover his shoulder. She was not like a girl at her first ball,for whom all faces in the ballroom melt into one vision offairyland. And she was not a girl who had gone the stale roundof balls till every face in the ballroom was familiar andtiresome. But she was in the middle stage between these two; shewas excited, and at the same time she had sufficientself-possession to be able to observe. In the left corner of theballroom she saw the cream of society gathered together.There--incredibly naked--was the beauty Lidi, Korsunsky's wife;there was the lady of the house; there shone the bald head ofKrivin, always to be found where the best people were. In thatdirection gazed the young men, not venturing to approach. There,too, she descried Stiva, and there she saw the exquisite figureand head of Anna in a black velvet gown. And he was there.Kitty had not seen him since the evening she refused Levin. Withher long-sighted eyes, she knew him at once, and was even awarethat he was looking at her.

　　"Another turn, eh? You're not tired?" said Korsunsky, a littleout of breath.

　　"No, thank you!"

　　"Where shall I take you?"

　　"Madame Karenina's here, I think...take me to her."

　　"Wherever you command."

　　And Korsunsky began waltzing with measured steps straight towardsthe group in the left corner, continually saying, "Pardon,mesdames, pardon, pardon, mesdames"; and steering his coursethrough the sea of lace, tulle, and ribbon, and not disarranginga feather, he turned his partner sharply round, so that her slimankles, in light transparent stockings, were exposed to view, andher train floated out in fan shape and covered Krivin's knees.Korsunky bowed, set straight his open shirt front, and gave herhis arm to conduct her to Anna Arkadyevna. Kitty, flushed, tookher train from Krivin's knees, and, a little giddy, looked round,seeking Anna. Anna was not in lilac, as Kitty had so urgentlywished, but in a black, low-cut, velvet gown, showing her fullthroat and shoulders, that looked as though carved in old ivory,and her rounded arms, with tiny, slender wrists. The whole gownwas trimmed with Venetian guipure. On her head, among her blackhair--her own, with no false additions--was a little wreath ofpansies, and a bouquet of the same in the black ribbon of hersash among white lace. Her coiffure was not striking. All thatwas noticeable was the little wilful tendrils of her curly hairthat would always break free about her neck and temples. Roundher well-cut, strong neck was a thread of pearls.

　　Kitty had been seeing Anna every day; she adored her, and hadpictured her invariably in lilac. But now seeing her in black,she felt that she had not fully seen her charm. She saw her nowas someone quite new and surprising to her. Now she understoodthat Anna could not have been in lilac, and that her charm wasjust that she always stood out against her attire, that her dresscould never be noticeable on her. And her black dress, with itssumptuous lace, was not noticeable on her; it was only the frame,and all that was seen was she--simple, natural, elegant, and atthe same time gay and eager.

　　She was standing holding herself, as always, very erect, and whenKitty drew near the group she was speaking to the master of thehouse, her head slightly turned towards him.

　　"No, I don't throw stones," she was saying, in answer tosomething, "though I can't understand it," she went on, shruggingher shoulders, and she turned at once with a soft smile ofprotection towards Kitty. With a flying, feminine glance shescanned her attire, and made a movement of her head, hardlyperceptible, but understood by Kitty, signifying approval of herdress and her looks. "You came into the room dancing," sheadded.

　　"This is one of my most faithful supporters," said Korsunsky,bowing to Anna Arkadyevna, whom he had not yet seen. "Theprincess helps to make balls happy and successful. AnnaArkadyevna, a waltz?" he said, bending down to her.

　　"Why, have yo met?" inquired their host.

　　"Is there anyone we have not met? My wife and I are like whitewolves--everyone knows us," answered Korsunsky. "A waltz, AnnaArkadyevna?"

　　"I don't dance when it's possible not to dance," she said.

　　"But tonight it's impossible," answered Korsunsky.

　　At that instant Vronsky came up.

　　"Well, since it's impossible tonight, let us start," she said,not noticing Vronsky's bow, and she hastily put her hand onKorsunsky's shoulder.

　　"What is she vexed with him about?" thought Kitty, discerningthat Anna had intentionally not responded to Vronsky's bow.Vronsky went up to Kitty reminding her of the first quadrille,and expressing his regret that he had not seen her all this time.Kitty gazed in admiration at Anna waltzing, and listened to him.She expected him to ask her for a waltz, but he did not, and sheglanced wonderingly at him. He flushed slightly, and hurriedlyasked her to waltz, but he had only just put his arm round herwaist and taken the first step when the music suddenly stopped.Kitty looked into his face, which was so close to her own, andlong afterwards--for several years after--that look, full oflove, to which he made no response, cut her to the heart with anagony of shame.

　　"Pardon! pardon! Waltz! waltz!" shouted Korsunsky from the otherside of the room, and seizing the first young lady he came acrosshe began dancing himself.