Part Two: Chapter 4

by Leo Tolstoy

　　The highest Petersburg society is essentially one: in it everyoneknows everyone else, everyone even visits everyone else. Butthis great set has its subdivisions. Anna Arkadyevna Kareninahad friends and close ties in three different circles of thishighest society. One circle was her husband's governmentofficial set, consisting of his colleagues and subordinates,brought together in the most various and capricious manner, andbelonging to different social strata. Anna found it difficultnow to recall the feeling of almost awe-stricken reverence whichshe had at first entertained for these persons. Now she knew allof them as people know one another in a country town; she knewtheir habits and weaknesses, and where the shoe pinched each oneof them. She knew their relations with one another and with thehead authorities, knew who was for whom, and how each onemaintained his position, and where they agreed and disagreed.But the circle of political, masculine interests had neverinterested her, in spite of countess Kidia Ivanovna's influence,and she avoided it.

　　Another little set with which Anna was in close relations was theone by means of which Alexey Alexandrovitch had made his career.The center of this circle was the Countess Lidia Ivanovna. Itwas a set made up of elderly, ugly, benevolent, and godly women,and clever, learned, and ambitious men. One of the clever peoplebelonging to the set had called it "the conscience of Petersburgsociety." Alexey Alexandrovitch had the highest esteem for thiscircle, and Anna with her special gift for getting on witheveryone, had in the early days of her life in Petersburg madefriends in this circle also. Now, since her return from Moscow,she had come to feel this set insufferable. It seemed to herthat both she and all of them were insincere, and she fell sobored and ill at ease in that world that she went to see theCountess Lidia Ivanovna as little as possible.

　　The third circle with which Anna had ties was preeminently thefashionable world--the world of balls, of dinners, of sumptuousdresses, the world that hung on to the court with one hand, so asto avoid sinking to the level of the demi-monde. For thedemi-monde the members of that fashionable world believed thatthey despised, though their tastes were not merely similar, butin fact identical. Her connection with this circle was kept upthrough Princess Betsy Tverskaya, her cousin's wife, who had anincome of a hundred and twenty thousand roubles, and who hadtaken a great fancy to Anna ever since she first came out, showedher much attention, and drew her into her set, making fun ofCountess Kidia Ivanovna's coterie.

　　"When I'm old and ugly I'll be the same," Betsy used to say; "butfor a pretty young woman like you it's early days for that houseof charity."

　　Anna had at first avoided as far as she could PrincessTverskaya's world, because it necessitated an expenditure beyondher means, and besides in her heart she preferred the firstcircle. But since her visit to Moscow she had done quite thecontrary. She avoided her serious-minded friends, and went outinto the fashionable world. There she met Vronsky, andexperienced an agitating joy at those meetings. She met Vronskyspecially often at Betsy's for Betsy was a Vronsky by birth andhis cousin. Vronsky was everywhere where he had any chance ofmeeting Anna, and speaking to her, when he could, of his love.She gave him no encouragement, but every time she met him theresurged up in her heart that same feeling of quickened life thathad come upon her that day in the railway carriage when she sawhim for the first time. She was conscious herself that herdelight sparkled in her eyes and curved her lips into a smile,and she could not quench the expression of this delight.

　　At first Anna sincerely believed that she was displeased with himfor daring to pursue her. Soon after her return from Moscow, onarriving at a soiree where she had expected to meet him, and notfinding him there, she realized distinctly from the rush ofdisappointment that she had been deceiving herself, and that thispursuit was not merely not distasteful to her, but that it madethe whole interest of her life.

　　A celebrated singer was singing for the second time, and all thefashionable world was in the theater. Vronsky, seeing hiscousin from his stall in the front row, did not wait till theentr'acte, but went to her box.

　　"Why didn't you come to dinner?" she said to him. "I marvel atthe second sight of lovers," she added with a smile, so that noone but he could hear; "She wasn't there. But come after theopera."

　　Vronsky looked inquiringly at her. She nodded. He thanked herby a smile, and sat down beside her.

　　"But how I remember your jeers!" continued Princess Betsy, whotook a peculiar pleasure in following up this passion to asuccessful issue. "What's become of all that? You're caught, mydear boy."

　　"That's my one desire, to be caught," answered Vronsky, with hisserene, good-humored smile. "If I complain of anything it's onlythat I'm not caught enough, to tell the truth. I begin to losehope."

　　"Why, whatever hope can you have?" said Betsy, offended on behalfof her friend. "Enendons nous...." But in her eyes there weregleams of light that betrayed that she understood perfectly andprecisely as he did what hope he might have.

　　"None whatever," said Vronsky, laughing and showing his even rowsof teeth. "Excuse me," he added, taking an opera glass out ofher hand, and proceeding to scrutinize, over her bare shoulder,the row of boxes facing them. "I'm afraid I'm becomingridiculous."

　　He was very well aware that he ran no risk of being ridiculous inthe eyes of Betsy or any other fashionable people. He was verywell aware that in their eyes the position of an unsuccessfullover of a girl, or of any woman free to marry, might beridiculous. But the position of a man pursuing a married woman,and, regardless of everything, staking his life on drawing herinto adultery, has something fine and grand about it, and cannever be ridiculous; and so it was with a proud and gay smileunder his mustaches that he lowered the opera glass and looked athis cousin.

　　"But why was it you didn't come to dinner?" she said, admiringhim.

　　"I must tell you about that. I was busily employed, and doingwhat, do you suppose? I'll give you a hundred guesses, athousand...you'd never guess. I've been reconciling a husbandwith a man who'd insulted his wife. Yes, really!"

　　"Well, did you succeed?"

　　"Almost."

　　"You really must tell me about it," she said, getting up. "Cometo me in the next entr'acte."

　　"I can't; I'm going to the French theater."

　　"From Nilsson?" Betsy queried in horror, though she could notherself have distinguished Nilsson's voice from any chorusgirl's.

　　"Can't help it. I've an appointment there, all to do with mymission of peace."

　　" Blessed are the peacemakers; theirs is the kingdom of heaven,'"said Betsy, vaguely recollecting she had heard some similarsaying from someone. "Very well, then, sit down, and tell mewhat it's all about."

　　And she sat down again.