Chapter 19

Left alone, Darya Alexandrovna, with a good housewife’s eye, scanned her room. All she had seen in entering the house and walking through it, and all she saw now in her room, gave her an impression of wealth and sumptuousness and of that modern European luxury of which she had only read in English novels, but had never seen in Russia and in the country. Everything was new from the new French hangings on the walls to the carpet which covered the whole floor. The bed had a spring mattress, and a special sort of bolster and silk pillowcases on the little pillows. The marble washstand, the dressing table, the little sofa, the tables, the bronze clock on the chimney piece, the window curtains, and the portieres were all new and expensive.

The smart maid, who came in to offer her services, with her hair done up high, and a gown more fashionable than Dolly’s, was as new and expensive as the whole room. Darya Alexandrovna liked her neatness, her deferential and obliging manners, but she felt ill at ease with her. She felt ashamed of her seeing the patched dressing jacket that had unluckily been packed by mistake for her. She was ashamed of the very patches and darned places of which she had been so proud at home. At home it had been so clear that for six dressing jackets there would be needed twenty-four yards of nainsook at sixteen pence the yard, which was a matter of thirty shillings besides the cutting-out and making, and these thirty shillings had been saved. But before the maid she felt, if not exactly ashamed, at least uncomfortable.

Darya Alexandrovna had a great sense of relief when Annushka, whom she had known for years, walked in. The smart maid was sent for to go to her mistress, and Annushka remained with Darya Alexandrovna.

Annushka was obviously much pleased at that lady’s arrival, and began to chatter away without a pause. Dolly observed that she was longing to express her opinion in regard to her mistress’s position, especially as to the love and devotion of the count to Anna Arkadyevna, but Dolly carefully interrupted her whenever she began to speak about this.

‘I grew up with Anna Arkadyevna; my lady’s dearer to me than anything. Well, it’s not for us to judge. And, to be sure, there seems so much love…’

‘Kindly pour out the water for me to wash now, please,’ Darya Alexandrovna cut her short.

‘Certainly. We’ve two women kept specially for washing small things, but most of the linen’s done by machinery. The count goes into everything himself. Ah, what a husband!…’

Dolly was glad when Anna came in, and by her entrance put a stop to Annushka’s gossip.

Anna had put on a very simple batiste gown. Dolly scrutinized that simple gown attentively. She knew what it meant, and the price at which such simplicity was obtained.

‘An old friend,’ said Anna of Annushka.

Anna was not embarrassed now. She was perfectly composed and at ease. Dolly saw that she had now completely recovered from the impression her arrival had made on her, and had assumed that superficial, careless tone which, as it were, closed the door on that compartment in which her deeper feelings and ideas were kept.

‘Well, Anna, and how is your little girl?’ asked Dolly.

‘Annie?’ (This was what she called her little daughter Anna.) ‘Very well. She has got on wonderfully. Would you like to see her? Come, I’ll show her to you. We had a terrible bother,’ she began telling her, ‘over nurses. We had an Italian wet-nurse. A good creature, but so stupid! We wanted to get rid of her, but the baby is so used to her that we’ve gone on keeping her still.’

‘But how have you managed?…’ Dolly was beginning a question as to what name the little girl would have; but noticing a sudden frown on Anna’s face, she changed the drift of her question.

‘How did you manage? have you weaned her yet?’

But Anna had understood.

‘You didn’t mean to ask that? You meant to ask about her surname. Yes? That worries Alexey. She has no name—that is, she’s a Karenina,’ said Anna, dropping her eyelids till nothing could be seen but the eyelashes meeting. ‘But we’ll talk about all that later,’ her face suddenly brightening. ‘Come, I’ll show you her. Elle est tres gentille. She crawls now.’

In the nursery the luxury which had impressed Dolly in the whole house struck her still more. There were little go-carts ordered from England, and appliances for learning to walk, and a sofa after the fashion of a billiard table, purposely constructed for crawling, and swings and baths, all of special pattern, and modern. They were all English, solid, and of good make, and obviously very expensive. The room was large, and very light and lofty.

When they went in, the baby, with nothing on but her little smock, was sitting in a little elbow chair at the table, having her dinner of broth, which she was spilling all over her little chest. The baby was being fed, and the Russian nursery maid was evidently sharing her meal. Neither the wet-nurse nor the head nurse were there; they were in the next room, from which came the sound of their conversation in the queer French which was their only means of communication.

Hearing Anna’s voice, a smart, tall, English nurse with a disagreeable face and a dissolute expression walked in at the door, hurriedly shaking her fair curls, and immediately began to defend herself though Anna had not found fault with her. At every word Anna said, the English nurse said hurriedly several times, ‘Yes, my lady.’

The rosy baby with her black eyebrows and hair, her sturdy red little body with tight goose-flesh skin, delighted Darya Alexandrovna in spite of the cross expression with which she stared at the stranger. She positively envied the baby’s healthy appearance. She was delighted, too, at the baby’s crawling. Not one of her own children had crawled like that. When the baby was put on the carpet and its little dress tucked up behind, it was wonderfully charming. Looking round like some little wild animal at the grown-up big people with her bright black eyes, she smiled, unmistakably pleased at their admiring her, and holding her legs sideways, she pressed vigorously on her arms, and rapidly drew her whole back up after, and then made another step forward with her little arms.

But the whole atmosphere of the nursery, and especially the English nurse, Darya Alexandrovna did not like at all. It was only on the supposition that no good nurse would have entered so irregular a household as Anna’s that Darya Alexandrovna could explain to herself how Anna with her insight into people could take such an unprepossessing, disreputable-looking woman as nurse to her child.

Besides, from a few words that were dropped, Darya Alexandrovna saw at once that Anna, the two nurses, and the child had no common existence, and that the mother’s visit was something exceptional. Anna wanted to get the baby her plaything, and could not find it.

Most amazing of all was the fact that on being asked how many teeth the baby had, Anna answered wrong, and knew nothing about the two last teeth.

‘I sometimes feel sorry I’m so superfluous here,’ said Anna, going out of the nursery and holding up her skirt so as to escape the plaything standing in the doorway. ‘It was very different with my first child.’

‘I expected it to be the other way,’ said Darya Alexandrovna shyly.

‘Oh, no! By the way, do you know I saw Seryozha?’ said Anna, screwing up her eyes, as though looking at something far away. ‘But we’ll talk about that later. You wouldn’t believe it, I’m like a hungry beggar woman when a full dinner is set before her, and she does not know what to begin on first. The dinner is you, and the talks I have before me with you, which I could never have with anyone else; and I don’t know which subject to begin upon first. Mais je ne vous ferai grace de rien. I must have everything out with you.’

‘Oh, I ought to give you a sketch of the company you will meet with us,’ she went on. ‘I’ll begin with the ladies. Princess Varvara—you know her, and I know your opinion and Stiva’s about her. Stiva says the whole aim of her existence is to prove her superiority over Auntie Katerina Pavlovna: that’s all true; but she’s a good-natured woman, and I am so grateful to her. In Petersburg there was a moment when a chaperon was absolutely essential for me. Then she turned up. But really she is goodnatured. She did a great deal to alleviate my position. I see you don’t understand all the difficulty of my position…there in Petersburg,’ she added. ‘Here I’m perfectly at ease and happy. Well, of that later on, though. Then Sviazhsky—he’s the marshal of the district, and he’s a very good sort of a man, but he wants to get something out of Alexey. You understand, with his property, now that we are settled in the country, Alexey can exercise great influence. Then there’s Tushkevitch—you have seen him, you know—Betsy’s admirer. Now he’s been thrown over and he’s come to see us. As Alexey says, he’s one of those people who are very pleasant if one accepts them for what they try to appear to be, et puis il est comme il faut, as Princess Varvara says. Then Veslovsky…you know him. A very nice boy,’ she said, and a sly smile curved her lips. ‘What’s this wild story about him and the Levins? Veslovsky told Alexey about it, and we don’t believe it. Il est tres gentil et naif,’ she said again with the same smile. ‘Men need occupation, and Alexey needs a circle, so I value all these people. We have to have the house lively and gay, so that Alexey may not long for any novelty. Then you’ll see the steward—a German, a very good fellow, and he understands his work. Alexey has a very high opinion of him. Then the doctor, a young man, not quite a Nihilist perhaps, but you know, eats with his knife…but a very good doctor. Then the architect…. Une petite cour!’

Chapter 20

‘Here’s Dolly for you, princess, you were so anxious to see her,’ said Anna, coming out with Darya Alexandrovna onto the stone terrace where Princess Varvara was sitting in the shade at an embroidery frame, working at a cover for Count Alexey Kirillovitch’s easy chair. ‘She says she doesn’t want anything before dinner, but please order some lunch for her, and I’ll go and look for Alexey and bring them all in.’

Princess Varvara gave Dolly a cordial and rather patronizing reception, and began at once explaining to her that she was living with Anna because she had always cared more for her than her sister Katerina Pavlovna, the aunt that had brought Anna up, and that now, when every one had abandoned Anna, she thought it her duty to help her in this most difficult period of transition.

‘Her husband will give her a divorce, and then I shall go back to my solitude; but now I can be of use, and I am doing my duty, however difficult it may be for me—not like some other people. And how sweet it is of you, how right of you to have come! They live like the best of married couples; it’s for God to judge them, not for us. And didn’t Biryuzovsky and Madame Avenieva…and Sam Nikandrov, and Vassiliev and Madame Mamonova, and Liza Neptunova… Did no one say anything about them? And it has ended by their being received by everyone. And then, c’est un interieur si joli, si comme il faut. Tout-a-fait a l’anglaise. On se reunit le matin au breakfast, et puis on se separe. Everyone does as he pleases till dinnertime. Dinner at seven o’clock. Stiva did very rightly to send you. He needs their support. You know that through his mother and brother he can do anything. And then they do so much good. He didn’t tell you about his hospital? Ce sera admirable—everything from Paris.’

Their conversation was interrupted by Anna, who had found the men of the party in the billiard room, and returned with them to the terrace. There was still a long time before the dinner-hour, it was exquisite weather, and so several different methods of spending the next two hours were proposed. There were very many methods of passing the time at Vozdvizhenskoe, and these were all unlike those in use at Pokrovskoe.

‘Une partie de lawn-tennis,’ Veslovsky proposed, with his handsome smile. ‘We’ll be partners again, Anna Arkadyevna.’

‘No, it’s too hot; better stroll about the garden and have a row in the boat, show Darya Alexandrovna the river banks.’ Vronsky proposed.

‘I agree to anything,’ said Sviazhsky.

‘I imagine that what Dolly would like best would be a stroll— wouldn’t you? And then the boat, perhaps,’ said Anna.

So it was decided. Veslovsky and Tushkevitch went off to the bathing place, promising to get the boat ready and to wait there for them.

They walked along the path in two couples, Anna with Sviazhsky, and Dolly with Vronsky. Dolly was a little embarrassed and anxious in the new surroundings in which she found herself. Abstractly, theoretically, she did not merely justify, she positively approved of Anna’s conduct. As is indeed not unfrequent with women of unimpeachable virtue, weary of the monotony of respectable existence, at a distance she not only excused illicit love, she positively envied it. Besides, she loved Anna with all her heart. But seeing Anna in actual life among these strangers, with this fashionable tone that was so new to Darya Alexandrovna, she felt ill at ease. What she disliked particularly was seeing Princess Varvara ready to overlook everything for the sake of the comforts she enjoyed.

As a general principle, abstractly, Dolly approved of Anna’s action; but to see the man for whose sake her action had been taken was disagreeable to her. Moreover, she had never liked Vronsky. She thought him very proud, and saw nothing in him of which he could be proud except his wealth. But against her own will, here in his own house, he overawed her more than ever, and she could not be at ease with him. She felt with him the same feeling she had had with the maid about her dressing jacket. Just as with the maid she had felt not exactly ashamed, but embarrassed at her darns, so she felt with him not exactly ashamed, but embarrassed at herself.

Dolly was ill at ease, and tried to find a subject of conversation. Even though she supposed that, through his pride, praise of his house and garden would be sure to be disagreeable to him, she did all the same tell him how much she liked his house.

‘Yes, it’s a very fine building, and in the good old-fashioned style,’ he said.

‘I like so much the court in front of the steps. Was that always so?’

‘Oh, no!’ he said, and his face beamed with pleasure. ‘If you could only have seen that court last spring!’

And he began, at first rather diffidently, but more and more carried away by the subject as he went on, to draw her attention to the various details of the decoration of his house and garden. It was evident that, having devoted a great deal of trouble to improve and beautify his home, Vronsky felt a need to show off the improvements to a new person, and was genuinely delighted at Darya Alexandrovna’s praise.

‘If you would care to look at the hospital, and are not tired, indeed, it’s not far. Shall we go?’ he said, glancing into her face to convince himself that she was not bored. ‘Are you coming, Anna?’ he turned to her.

‘We will come, won’t we?’ she said, addressing Sviazhsky. ‘Mais il ne faut pas laisser le pauvre Veslovsky et Tushkevitch se morfondre la dans le bateau. We must send and tell them.’

‘Yes, this is a monument he is setting up here,’ said Anna, turning to Dolly with that sly smile of comprehension with which she had previously talked about the hospital.

‘Oh, it’s a work of real importance!’ said Sviazhsky. But to show he was not trying to ingratiate himself with Vronsky, he promptly added some slightly critical remarks.

‘I wonder, though, count,’ he said, ‘that while you do so much for the health of the peasants, you take so little interest in the schools.’

‘C’est devenu tellement commun les ecoles,’ said Vronsky. ‘You understand it’s not on that account, but it just happens so, my interest has been diverted elsewhere. This way then to the hospital,’ he said to Darya Alexandrovna, pointing to a turning out of the avenue.

The ladies put up their parasols and turned into the side path. After going down several turnings, and going through a little gate, Darya Alexandrovna saw standing on rising ground before her a large pretentious-looking red building, almost finished. The iron roof, which was not yet painted, shone with dazzling brightness in the sunshine. Beside the finished building another had been begun, surrounded by scaffolding. Workmen in aprons, standing on scaffolds, were laying bricks, pouring mortar out of vats, and smoothing it with trowels.

‘How quickly work gets done with you!’ said Sviazhsky. ‘When I was here last time the roof was not on.’

‘By the autumn it will all be ready. Inside almost everything is done,’ said Anna.

‘And what’s this new building?’

‘That’s the house for the doctor and the dispensary,’ answered Vronsky, seeing the architect in a short jacket coming towards him; and excusing himself to the ladies, he went to meet him.

Going round a hole where the workmen were slaking lime, he stood still with the architect and began talking rather warmly.

‘The front is still too low,’ he said to Anna, who had asked what was the matter.

‘I said the foundation ought to be raised,’ said Anna.

‘Yes, of course it would have been much better, Anna Arkadyevna,’ said the architect, ‘but now it’s too late.’

‘Yes, I take a great interest in it,’ Anna answered Sviazhsky, who was expressing his surprise at her knowledge of architecture. ‘This new building ought to have been in harmony with the hospital. It was an afterthought, and was begun without a plan.’

Vronsky, having finished his talk with the architect, joined the ladies, and led them inside the hospital.

Although they were still at work on the cornices outside and were painting on the ground floor, upstairs almost all the rooms were finished. Going up the broad cast-iron staircase to the landing, they walked into the first large room. The walls were stuccoed to look like marble, the huge plate-glass windows were already in, only the parquet floor was not yet finished, and the carpenters, who were planing a block of it, left their work, taking off the bands that fastened their hair, to greet the gentry.

‘This is the reception room,’ said Vronsky. ‘Here there will be a desk, tables, and benches, and nothing more.’

‘This way; let us go in here. Don’t go near the window,’ said Anna, trying the paint to see if it were dry. ‘Alexey, the paint’s dry already,’ she added.

From the reception room they went into the corridor. Here Vronsky showed them the mechanism for ventilation on a novel system. Then he showed them marble baths, and beds with extraordinary springs. Then he showed them the wards one after another, the storeroom, the linen room, then the heating stove of a new pattern, then the trolleys, which would make no noise as they carried everything needed along the corridors, and many other things. Sviazhsky, as a connoisseur in the latest mechanical improvements, appreciated everything fully. Dolly simply wondered at all she had not seen before, and, anxious to understand it all, made minute inquiries about everything, which gave Vronsky great satisfaction.

‘Yes, I imagine that this will be the solitary example of a properly fitted hospital in Russia,’ said Sviazhsky.

‘And won’t you have a lying-in ward?’ asked Dolly. ‘That’s so much needed in the country. I have often…’

In spite of his usual courtesy, Vronsky interrupted her.

‘This is not a lying-in home, but a hospital for the sick, and is intended for all diseases, except infectious complaints,’ he said. ‘Ah! look at this,’ and he rolled up to Darya Alexandrovna an invalid chair that had just been ordered for the convalescents. ‘Look.’ He sat down in the chair and began moving it. ‘The patient can’t walk—still too weak, perhaps, or something wrong with his legs, but he must have air, and he moves, rolls himself along….’

Darya Alexandrovna was interested by everything. She liked everything very much, but most of all she liked Vronsky himself with his natural, simple-hearted eagerness. ‘Yes, he’s a very nice, good man,’ she thought several times, not hearing what he said, but looking at him and penetrating into his expression, while she mentally put herself in Anna’s place. She liked him so much just now with his eager interest that she saw how Anna could be in love with him.