Footsteps were heard and a man’s voice, then a woman’s voice and laughter, and the expected guests came in: Sappho Stolz and a young man radiant with a superabundance of health, the so-called Vaska. It was evident that he prospered on a diet of rare beef, truffles and Burgundy. Vaska bowed to the ladies and glanced at them, but only for a second. He came into the drawing room after Sappho, and followed her across the room as if tied to her, not taking his shining eyes off her, as if he wanted to eat her up. Sappho Stolz was a dark-eyed blonde. She walked with brisk little steps in her high-heeled shoes and gave the ladies a firm, mannish handshake.
Anna had not met this new celebrity before and was struck by her beauty, by how extremely far her costume went, and by the boldness of her manners. On her head, hair of a delicately golden colour, her own and other women‘s, was done up into such an edifice of a coiffure that her head equalled in size her shapely, well-rounded and much-exposed bust. Her forward movement was so impetuous that at every step the forms of her knees and thighs were outlined under her dress, and the question involuntarily arose as to where, at the back of this built-up, heaving mountain, her real, small and shapely body actually ended, so bare above and so concealed behind and below.
Betsy hastened to introduce her to Anna.
‘Can you imagine, we nearly ran over two soldiers,’ she began telling them at once, winking, smiling, and thrusting her train back in place, having first swept it too far to one side. ‘I was driving with Vaska ... Ah, yes, you’re not acquainted.’ And, giving his family name, she introduced the young man and, blushing, laughed loudly at her mistake, that is, at having called him Vaska to a stranger.
Vaska bowed to Anna once again, but said nothing to her. He turned to Sappho:
‘You’ve lost the bet. We came first. Pay up,’ he said, smiling.
Sappho laughed still more gaily.
‘But not now,’ she said.
‘Never mind, I’ll get it later.’
‘All right, all right. Ah, yes!’ she suddenly turned to the hostess, ‘a fine one I am ... I quite forgot ... I’ve brought you a guest. Here he is.’
The unexpected young guest whom Sappho had brought and forgotten was, however, such an important guest that, despite his youth, both ladies rose to meet him.17
This was Sappho’s new admirer. He now hung on her heels, just as Vaska did.
Soon Prince Kaluzhsky arrived, and Liza Merkalov with Stremov. Liza Merkalov was a slender brunette with a lazy, Levantine type of face and lovely - unfathomable, as everyone said - eyes. The character of her dark costume (Anna noticed and appreciated it at once) was perfectly suited to her beauty. She was as soft and loose as Sappho was tough and collected.
But to Anna’s taste Liza was far more attractive. Betsy had said of her to Anna that she had adopted the tone of an ingenuous child, but when Anna saw her, she felt it was not true. She was indeed an ingenuous, spoiled, but sweet and mild woman. True, her tone was the same as Sappho’s; just as with Sappho, two admirers followed after her as if sewn to her, devouring her with their eyes, one young, the other an old man; but there was something in her that was higher than her surroundings - there was the brilliance of a diamond of the first water amidst glass. This brilliance shone from her lovely, indeed unfathomable, eyes. The weary and at the same time passionate gaze of those dark-ringed eyes was striking in its perfect sincerity. Looking into those eyes, everyone thought he knew her thoroughly and, knowing, could not but love her. When she saw Anna, her face suddenly lit up with a joyful smile.
‘Ah, how glad I am to see you!’ she said, going up to her. ‘Yesterday at the races I was just about to go to you, but you left. I wanted so much to see you precisely yesterday. Wasn’t it terrible?’ she said, looking at Anna with those eyes that seemed to reveal her entire soul.
‘Yes, I never expected it would be so upsetting,’ said Anna, blushing.
The company rose just then to go to the garden.
‘I won’t go,’ said Liza, smiling and sitting down beside Anna. ‘You won’t go either? Who wants to play croquet!’
‘No, I like it,’ said Anna.
‘But how do you manage not to be bored? One looks at you and feels gay. You live, but I’m bored.’
‘Bored? You’re the gayest company in Petersburg,’ said Anna.
‘Maybe those who aren’t in our company are more bored; but for us, for me certainly, it’s not gay, it’s terribly, terribly boring.’
Sappho, lighting a cigarette, went to the garden with the two young men. Betsy and Stremov stayed at tea.
‘Boring?’ said Betsy. ‘Sappho says they had a very gay time with you yesterday.’
