Alexei Alexandrovich, pinched with agitation, murmured something to himself and made no reply. Everything that appeared so simple to Stepan Arkadyich, Alexei Alexandrovich had thought over thousands and thousands of times. And it all seemed to him not only not simple but utterly impossible. Divorce, the details of which he already knew, seemed impossible to him now because his sense of dignity and respect for religion would not permit him to take upon himself an accusation of fictitious adultery, still less to allow his wife, whom he had forgiven and loved, to be exposed and disgraced. Divorce seemed impossible for other, still more important reasons as well.
What would happen to his son in case of divorce? To leave him with his mother was impossible. The divorced mother would have her own illegitimate family, in which his position and upbringing as a stepson would in all likelihood be bad. To keep him with himself? He knew that this would be vengeance on his part, and he did not want that. But, apart from that, divorce seemed impossible to Alexei Alexandrovich, above all, because in consenting to a divorce he would be ruining Anna. What Darya Alexandrovna had said in Moscow - that in deciding on a divorce he was thinking only about himself and not thinking that by it he would be ruining her irretrievably - had sunk deeply into his soul. And, combining that with his forgiveness and his attachment to the children, he now understood it in his own way. To his mind, agreeing to a divorce, giving her freedom, meant depriving himself of his last tie to the life of the children he loved, and depriving her of her last support on the path to the good and casting her into perdition. If she were a divorced wife, he knew, she would join with Vronsky, and that liaison would be illegitimate and criminal, because according to Church law a woman may not remarry while her husband is alive. ‘She’ll join with him, and in a year or two either he will abandon her or she will enter a new liaison,’ thought Alexei Alexandrovich. ‘And, by agreeing to an illegitimate divorce, I would be to blame for her ruin.’ He had thought it all over thousands of times and was convinced that the matter of a divorce was not only not very simple, as his brother-in-law said, but was completely impossible. He did not believe a single word Stepan Arkadyich said, he had a thousand refutations for every word of it, yet he listened to him, feeling that his words expressed that powerful, crude force which guided his life and to which he had to submit.
‘The only question is, on what conditions would you agree to grant a divorce. She wants nothing, she doesn’t dare ask you, she leaves everything to your magnanimity.’
‘My God! My God! Why this?’ thought Alexei Alexandrovich, recalling the details of a divorce in which the husband had taken the blame upon himself, and, with the same gesture as Vronsky, he covered his face with his hands in shame.
‘You’re upset, I understand that. But if you think it over ...’
‘And to him who strikes you on the right cheek, offer the left, and to him who takes your caftan, give your shirt,’ thought Alexei Alexandrovich.
‘Yes, yes!’ he cried in a shrill voice, ‘I’ll take the disgrace upon myself, I’ll even give up my son, but ... isn’t it better to let things be? However, do as you like ...’
And turning away from his brother-in-law, so that he would not see him, he sat on a chair by the window. He felt grieved; he felt ashamed. But along with grief and shame he experienced joy and tenderness before the loftiness of his humility.
Stepan Arkadyich was moved. He paused.
‘Believe me, Alexei Alexandrovich, she will appreciate your magnanimity,’ he said. ‘But it looks as if it was the will of God,’ he added and, having said it, felt that it was stupid, and barely managed to keep from smiling at his own stupidity.
Alexei Alexandrovich wanted to make some reply, but tears stopped him.
‘It is a fatal misfortune and must be recognized as such. I recognize this misfortune as an accomplished fact and am trying to help her and you,’ said Stepan Arkadyich.
When Stepan Arkadyich left his brother-in-law’s room, he was moved, but that did not prevent him from being pleased at having successfully accomplished the deed, since he was sure that Alexei Alexandrovich would not take back his words. This pleasure was also mixed with a thought that had come to him, that when the deed was done, he would ask his wife and close acquaintances the question: ‘What’s the difference between me and the emperor? He makes alliances and no one benefits, I break alliances and three people benefit ... Or, what’s the similarity between me and the emperor? When ... Anyhow, I’ll come up with something better,’ he said to himself with a smile.
XXIII
Vronsky’s wound was dangerous, though it had missed the heart. He lay for several days between life and death. When he was able to speak for the first time, his brother’s wife, Varya, was the only one in his room.
