Part Two: Chapter 35

by Leo Tolstoy

　　The prince communicated his good humor to his own family and hisfriends, and even to the German landlord in whose rooms theShtcherbatskys were staying.

　　On coming back with Kitty from the springs, the prince, who hadasked the colonel, and Marya Yevgenyevna, and Varenka all to comeand have coffee with them, gave orders for a table and chairs tobe taken into the garden under the chestnut tree, and lunch to belaid there. The landlord and the servants, too, grew briskerunder the influence of his good spirits. They knew hisopen-handedness; and half an hour later the invalid doctor fromHamburg, who lived on the top floor, looked enviously out of thewindow at the merry party of healthy Russians assembled under thechestnut tree. In the trembling circles of shadow cast by theleaves, at a table, covered with a white cloth, and set withcoffeepot, bread-and-butter, cheese, and cold game, sat theprincess in a high cap with lilac ribbons, distributing cups andbread-and-butter. At the other end sat the prince, eatingheartily, and talking loudly and merrily. The prince had spreadout near him his purchases, carved boxes, and knick-knacks,paper-knives of all sorts, of which he bought a heap at everywatering-place, and bestowed them upon everyone, includingLieschen, the servant girl, and the landlord, with whom he jestedin his comically bad German, assuring him that it was not thewater had cured Kitty, but his splendid cookery, especially hisplum soup. The princess laughed at her husband for his Russianways, but she was more lively and good-humored than she had beenall the while she had been at the waters. The colonel smiled, ashe always did, at the prince's jokes, but as far as regardsEurope, of which he believed himself to be making a carefulstudy, he took the princess's side. The simple-hearted MaryaYevgenyevna simply roared with laughter at everything absurd theprince said, and his jokes made Varenka helpless with feeble butinfectious laughter, which was something Kitty had never seenbefore.

　　Kitty was glad of all this, but she could not be light-hearted.she could not solve the problem her father had unconsciously sether by his goodhumored view of her friends, and of the life thathad so attracted her. To this doubt there was joined the changein her relations with the Petrovs, which had been soconspicuously and unpleasantly marked that morning. Everyone wasgood humored, but Kitty could not feel good humored, and thisincreased her distress. She felt a feeling such as she had knownin childhood, when she had been shut in her room as a punishment,and had heard her sisters' merry laughter outside.

　　"Well, but what did you buy this mass of things for?" said theprincess, smiling, and handing her husband a cup of coffee.

　　"One goes for a walk, one looks in a shop, and they ask you tobuy. 'Erlaucht, Durchlaucht?' Directly they say 'Durchlaucht,'I can't hold out. I lose ten thalers."

　　"It's simply from boredom," said the princess.

　　"Of course it is. Such boredom, my dear, that one doesn't knowwhat to do with oneself."

　　"How can you be bored, prince? There's so much that's interestingnow in Germany," said Marya Yevgenyevna.

　　"But I know everything that's interesting: the plum soup I know,and the pea sausages I know. I know everything."

　　"No, you may say what you like, prince, there's the interest oftheir institutions," said the colonel.

　　"But what is there interesting about it? They're all as pleasedas brass halfpence. They've conquered everybody, and why am Ito be pleased at that? I haven't conquered anyone; and I'mobliged to take off my own boots, yes, and put them away too; inthe morning, get up and dress at once, and go to the dining roomto drink bad tea! How different it is at home! You get up in nohaste, you get cross, grumble a little, and come round again.You've time to think things over, and no hurry."

　　"But time's money, you forget that," said the colonel.

　　"Time, indeed, that depends! Why, there's time one would give amonth of for sixpence, and time you wouldn't give half an hour offor any money. Isn't that so, Katinka? What is it? why are youso depressed?"

　　"I'm not depressed."

　　"Where are you off to? Stay a little longer," he said toVarenka.

　　"I must be going home," said Varenka, getting up, and again shewent off into a giggle. When she had recovered, she saidgood-bye, and went into the house to get her hat.

　　Kitty followed her. Even Varenka struck her as different. Shewas not worse, but different from what she had fancied herbefore.

　　"Oh, dear! it's a long while since I've laughed so much!" saidVarenka, gathering up her parasol and her bag. "How nice he is,your father!"

　　Kitty did not speak.

　　"When shall I see you again?" asked Varenka.

　　"Mamma meant to go and see the Petrovs. Won't you be there?"said Kitty, to try Varenka.

　　"Yes," answered Varenka. "They're getting ready to go away, soI promised to help them pack."

　　"Well, I'll come too, then."

　　"No, why should you?"

　　"Why not? why not? why not?" said Kitty, opening her eyes wide,and clutching at Varenka's parasol, so as not to let her go."No, wait a minute; why not?"

　　"Oh, nothing; your father has come, and besides, they will feelawkward at your helping."

　　"No, tell me why you don't want me to be often at the Petrovs'.You don't want me to--why not?"

　　"I didn't say that," said Varenka quietly.

　　"No, please tell me!"

　　"Tell you everything?" asked Varenka.

　　"Everything, everything!" Kitty assented.

　　"Well, there's really nothing of any consequence; only thatMihail Alexeyevitch" (that was the artist's name) "had meant toleave earlier, and now he doesn't want to go away," said Varenka,smiling.

　　"Well, well!" Kitty urged impatiently, looking darkly at Varenka.

　　"Well, and for some reason Anna Pavlovna told him that he didn'twant to go because you are here. Of course, that was nonsense;but there was a dispute over it--over you. You know howirritable these sick people are."

　　Kitty, scowling more than ever, kept silent, and Varenka went onspeaking alone, trying to soften or soothe her, and seeing astorm coming--she did not know whether of tears or of words.

　　"So you'd better not go.... You understand; you won't beoffended?..."

　　"And it serves me right! And it serves me right!" Kitty criedquickly, snatching the parasol out of Varenka's hand, and lookingpast her friend's face.

　　Varenka felt inclined to smile, looking at her childish fury, butshe was afraid of wounding her.

　　"How does it serve you right? I don't understand," she said.

　　"It serves me right, because it was all sham; because it was alldone on purpose, and not from the heart. What business had I tointerfere with outsiders? And so it's come about that I'm acause of quarrel, and that I've done what nobody asked me to do.Because it was all a sham! a sham! a sham! . . ."

　　"A sham! with what object?" said Varenka gently.

　　"Oh, it's so idiotic! so hateful! There was no need whatever forme.... Nothing but sham!" she said, opening and shutting theparasol.

　　"But with what object?"

　　"To seem better to people, to myself, to God; to deceiveeveryone. No! now I won't descend to that. I'll be bad; butanyway not a liar, a cheat."

　　"But who is a cheat?" said Varenka reproachfully. "You speak asif..."

　　But Kitty was in one of her gusts of fury, and she would not lether finish.

　　"I don't talk about you, not about you at all. You'reperfection. Yes, yes, I know you're all perfection; but what amI to do if I'm bad? This would never have been if I weren't bad.So let me be what I am. I won't be a sham. What have I to dowith Anna Pavlovna? Let them go their way, and me go mine. Ican't be different.... And yet it's not that, it's not that."

　　"What is not that?" asked Varenka in bewilderment.

　　"Everything. I can't act except from the heart, and you actfrom principle. I liked you simply, but you most likely onlywanted to save me, to improve me."

　　"You are unjust," said Varenka.

　　"But I'm not speaking of other people, I'm speaking of myself."

　　"Kitty," they heard her mother's voice, "come here, show papayour necklace."

　　Kitty, with a haughty air, without making peace with her friend,took the necklace in a little box from the table and went to hermother.

　　"What's the matter? Why are you so red?" her mother and fathersaid to her with one voice.

　　"Nothing," she answered. "I'll be back directly," and she ranback.

　　"She's still here," she thought. "What am I to say to her? Oh,dear! what have I done, what have I said? Why was I rude toher? What am I to do? What am I to say to her?" thought Kitty,and she stopped in the doorway.

　　Varenka in her hat and with the parasol in her hands was sittingat the table examining the spring which Kitty had broken. Shelifted her head.

　　"Varenka, forgive me, do forgive me," whispered Kitty, going upto her. "I don't remember what I said. I..."

　　"I really didn't mean to hurt you," said Varenka, smiling.

　　Peace was made. But with her father's coming all the world inwhich she had been living was transformed for Kitty. She did notgive up everything she had learned, but she became aware that shehad deceived herself in supposing she could be what she wanted tobe. Her eyes were, it seemed, opened; she felt all thedifficulty of maintaining herself without hypocrisy andself-conceit on the pinnacle to which she had wished to mount.Moreover, she became aware of all the dreariness of the world ofsorrow, of sick and dying people, in which she had been living.The efforts she had made to like it seemed to her intolerable,and she felt a longing to get back quickly into the fresh air, toRussia, to Ergushovo, where, as she knew from letters, her sisterDolly had already gone with her children.

　　But her affection for Varenka did not wane. As she saidgood-bye, Kitty begged her to come to them in Russia.

　　"I'll come when you get married," said Varenka.

　　"I shall never marry."

　　"Well, then, I shall never come."

　　"Well, then, I shall be married simply for that. Mind now,remember your promise," said Kitty.

　　The doctor's prediction was fulfilled. Kitty returned home toRussia cured. She was not so gay and thoughtless as before, butshe was serene. Her Moscow troubles had become a memory to her.