Part One: Chapter 9

by Leo Tolstoy

　　At four o'clock, conscious of his throbbing heart, Levin steppedout of a hired sledge at the Zoological Gardens, and turned alongthe path to the frozen mounds and the skating ground, knowingthat he would certainly find her there, as he had seen theShtcherbatskys' carriage at the entrance.

　　It was a bright, frosty day. Rows of carriages, sledges,drivers, and policemen were standing in the approach. Crowds ofwell-dressed people, with hats bright in the sun, swarmed aboutthe entrance and along the well-swept little paths between thelittle houses adorned with carving in the Russian style. The oldcurly birches of the gardens, all their twigs laden with snow,looked as though freshly decked in sacred vestments.

　　He walked along the path towards the skating-ground, and keptsaying to himself--"You mustn't be excited, you must be calm.What's the matter with you? What do you want? Be quiet,stupid," he conjured his heart. And the more he tried to composehimself, the more breathless he found himself. An acquaintancemet him and called him by his name, but Levin did not evenrecognize him. He went towards the mounds, whence came the clankof the chains of sledges as they slipped down or were dragged up,the rumble of the sliding sledges, and the sounds of merryvoices. He walked on a few steps, and the skating-ground layopen before his eyes, and at once, amidst all the skaters, heknew her.

　　He knew she was there by the rapture and the terror that seizedon his heart. She was standing talking to a lady at the oppositeend of the ground. There was apparently nothing striking eitherin her dress or her attitude. But for Levin she was as easy tofind in that crowd as a rose among nettles. Everything was madebright by her. She was the smile that shed light on all roundher. "Is it possible I can go over there on the ice, go up toher?" he thought. The place where she stood seemed to him a holyshrine, unapproachable, and there was one moment when he wasalmost retreating, so overwhelmed was he with terror. He had tomake an effort to master himself, and to remind himself thatpeople of all sorts were moving about her, and that he too mightcome there to skate. He walked down, for a long while avoidinglooking at her as at the sun, but seeing her, as one does thesun, without looking.

　　On that day of the week and at that time of day people of oneset, all acquainted with one another, used to meet on the ice.There were crack skaters there, showing off their skill, andlearners clinging to chairs with timid, awkward movements, boys,and elderly people skating with hygienic motives. They seemed toLevin an elect band of blissful beings because they were here,near her. All the skaters, it seemed, with perfectself-possession, skated towards her, skated by her, even spoke toher, and were happy, quite apart from her, enjoying the capitalice and the fine weather.

　　Nikolay Shtcherbatsky, Kitty's cousin, in a short jacket andtight trousers, was sitting on a garden seat with his skates on.Seeing Levin, he shouted to him:

　　"Ah, the first skater in Russia! Been here long? First-rateice--do put your skates on."

　　"I haven't got my skates," Levin answered, marveling at thisboldness and ease in her presence, and not for one second losingsight of her, though he did not look at her. He felt as thoughthe sun were coming near him. She was in a corner, and turningout her slender feet in their high boots with obvious timidity,she skated towards him. A boy in Russian dress, desperatelywaving his arms and bowed down to the ground, overtook her. Sheskated a little uncertainly; taking her hands out of the littlemuff that hung on a cord, she held them ready for emergency, andlooking towards Levin, whom she had recognized, she smiled athim, and at her own fears. When she had got round the turn, shegave herself a push off with one foot, and skated straight up toShtcherbatsky. Clutching at his arm, she nodded smiling toLevin. She was more splendid that he had imagined her.

　　When he thought of her, he could call up a vivid picture of herto himself, especially the charm of that little fair head, sofreely set on the shapely girlish shoulders, and so full ofchildish brightness and good humor. The childishness of herexpression, together with the delicate beauty of her figure, madeup her special charm, and that he fully realized. But whatalways struck him in her as something unlooked for, was theexpression of her eyes, soft, serene, and truthful, and aboveall, her smile, which always transported Levin to an enchantedworld, where he felt himself softened and tender, as heremembered himself in some days of his early childhood.

　　"Have you been here long?" she said, giving him her hand. "Thankyou," she added, as he picked up the handkerchief that had fallenout of her muff.

　　"I? I've not long...yesterday...I mean today...I arrived,"answered Levin, in his emotion not at once understanding herquestion. "I was meaning to come and see you," he said; andthen, recollecting with what intention he was trying to see her,he was promptly overcome with confusion and blushed.

　　"I didn't know you could skate, and skate so well."

　　She looked at him earnestly, as though wishing to make out thecause of his confusion.

　　"Your praise is worth having. The tradition is kept up here thatyou are the best of skaters," she said, with her littleblack-gloved hand brushing a grain of hoarfrost off her muff.

　　"Yes, I used once to skate with passion; I wanted to reachperfection."

　　"You do everything with passion, I think,' she said smiling. "Ishould so like to see how you skate. Put on skates, and let usskate together."

　　"Skate together! Can that be possible?" thought Levin, gazing ather.

　　"I'll put them on directly," he said.

　　And he went off to get skates.

　　"It's a long while since we've seen you here, sir," said theattendant, supporting his foot, and screwing on the heel of theskate. "Except you, there's none of the gentlemen first-rateskaters. Will that be all right?" said he, tightening the strap.

　　"Oh, yes, yes; make haste, please," answered Levin, withdifficulty restraining the smile of rapture which wouldoverspread his face. "Yes," he thought, "this now is life, thisis happiness! Together, she said; let us skate together! Speakto her now? But that's just why I'm afraid to speak--because I'mhappy now, happy in hope, anyway.... And then?.... But I must!I must! I must! Away with weakness!"

　　Levin rose to his feet, took off his overcoat, and scurrying overthe rough ice round the hut, came out on the smooth ice andskated without effort, as it were, by simple exercise of will,increasing and slackening speed and turning his course. Heapproached with timidity, but again her smile reassured him.

　　She gave him her hand, and they set off side by side, goingfaster and faster, and the more rapidly they moved the moretightly she grasped his hand.

　　"With you I should soon learn; I somehow feel confidence in you,"she said to him.

　　"And I have confidence in myself when you are leaning on me," hesaid, but was at once panic-stricken at what he had said, andblushed. And indeed, no sooner had he uttered these words, whenall at once, like the sun going behind a cloud, her face lost allits friendliness, and Levin detected the familiar change in herexpression that denoted the working of thought; a crease showedon her smooth brow.

　　"Is there anything troubling you?--though I've no right to asksuch a question," he added hurriedly.

　　"Oh, why so?.... No, I have nothing to trouble me," sheresponded coldly; and she added immediately: "You haven't seenMlle. Linon, have you?"

　　"Not yet."

　　"Go and speak to her, she likes you so much."

　　"What's wrong? I have offended her. Lord help me!" thoughtLevin, and he flew towards the old Frenchwoman with the grayringlets, who was sitting on a bench. Smiling and showing herfalse teeth, she greeted him as an old friend.

　　"Yes, you see we're growing up," she said to him, glancingtowards Kitty, "and growing old. Tiny bear has grown big now!"pursued the Frenchwoman, laughing, and she reminded him of hisjoke about the three young ladies whom he had compared to thethree bears in the English nursery tale. "Do you remember that'swhat you used to call them?"

　　He remembered absolutely nothing, but she had been laughing atthe joke for ten years now, and was fond of it.

　　"Now, go and skate, go and skate. Our Kitty has learned to skatenicely, hasn't she?"

　　When Levin darted up to Kitty her face was no longer stern; hereyes looked at him with the same sincerity and friendliness, butLevin fancied that in her friendliness there was a certain noteof deliberate composure. And he felt depressed. After talking alittle of her old governess and her peculiarities, she questionedhim about his life.

　　"Surely you must be dull in the country in the winter, aren'tyou?" she said.

　　"No, I'm not dull, I am very busy," he said, feeling that she washolding him in check by her composed tone, which he would nothave the force to break through, just as it had been at thebeginning of the winter.

　　"Are you going to stay in town long?" Kitty questioned him.

　　"I don't know," he answered, not thinking of what he was saying.The thought that if he were held in check by her tone of quietfriendliness he would end by going back again without decidinganything came into his mind, and he resolved to make a struggleagainst it.

　　"How is it you don't know?"

　　"I don't know. It depends upon you," he said, and wasimmediately horror-stricken at his own words.

　　Whether it was that she had heard his words, or that she did notwant to hear them, she made a sort of stumble, twice struck out,and hurriedly skated away from him. She skated up to Mlle.Linon, said something to her, and went towards the pavilion wherethe ladies took off their skates.

　　"My God! what have I done! Merciful God! help me, guide me,"said Levin, praying inwardly, and at the same time, feeling aneed of violent exercise, he skated about describing inner andouter circles.

　　At that moment one of the young men, the best of the skaters ofthe day, came out of the coffee-house in his skates, with acigarette in his mouth. Taking a run, he dashed down the stepsin his skates, crashing and bounding up and down. He flew down,and without even changing the position of his hands, skated awayover the ice.

　　"Ah, that's a new trick!" said Levin, and he promptly ran up tothe top to do this new trick.

　　"Don't break you neck! it needs practice!" Nikolay Shtcherbatskyshouted after him.

　　Levin went to the steps, took a run from above as best he cold,and dashed down, preserving his balance in this unwonted movementwith his hands. On the last step he stumbled, but barelytouching the ice with his hand, with a violent effort recoveredhimself, and skated off, laughing.

　　"How splendid, how nice he is!" Kitty was thinking at that time,as she came out of the pavilion with Mlle. Linon, and lookedtowards him with a smile of quiet affection, as though he were afavorite brother. "And can it be my fault, can I have doneanything wrong? They talk of flirtation. I know it's not hethat I love; but still I am happy with him, and he's so jolly.Only, why did he say that?..." she mused.

　　Catching sight of Kitty going away, and her mother meeting her atthe steps, Levin, flushed from his rapid exercise, stood stilland pondered a minute. He took off his skates, and overtook themother and daughter at the entrance of the gardens.

　　"Delighted to see you," said Princess Shtcherbatskaya. "OnThursdays we are home, as always."

　　"Today, then?"

　　"We shall be pleased to see you," the princess said stiffly.

　　This stiffness hurt Kitty, and she could not resist the desire tosmooth over her mother's coldness. She turned her head, and witha smile said:

　　"Good-bye till this evening."

　　At that moment Stepan Arkadyevitch, his hat cocked on one side,with beaming face and eyes, strode into the garden like aconquering hero. But as he approached his mother-in-law, heresponded in a mournful and crestfallen tone to her inquiriesabout Dolly's health. After a little subdued and dejectedconversation with his mother-in-law, he threw out his chestagain, and put his arm in Levin's.

　　"Well, shall we set off?" he asked. "I've been thinking aboutyou all this time, and I'm very, very glad you've come," he said,looking him in the face with a significant air.

　　"Yes, come along," answered Levin in ecstasy, hearing unceasinglythe sound of that voice saying, "Good-bye till this evening," andseeing the smile with which it was said.

　　"To the England or the Hermitage?"

　　"I don't mind which."

　　"All right, then, the England," said Stepan Arkadyevitch,selecting that restaurant because he owed more there than at theHermitage, and consequently considered it mean to avoid it."Have you got a sledge? That's first-rate, for I sent mycarriage home."

　　The friends hardly spoke all the way. Levin was wondering whatthat change in Kitty's expression had meant, and alternatelyassuring himself that there was hope, and falling into despair,seeing clearly that his hopes were insane, and yet all the whilehe felt himself quite another man, utterly unlike what he hadbeen before her smile and those words, "Good-bye till thisevening."

　　Stepan Arkadyevitch was absorbed during the drive in composingthe menu of the dinner.

　　"You like trout, don't you?" he said to Levin as they werearriving.

　　"Eh?" responded Levin. "Turbot? Yes, I'm awfully fond ofturbot."