Anna Karenina полностью

In this box to the left were the Kartasovs. Vronsky knew them and knew that Anna was acquainted with them. Mme Kartasov, a thin, small woman, was standing in her box, her back turned to Anna, and putting on a cape that her husband was holding for her. Her face was pale and cross, and she was saying something excitedly. Kartasov, a fat, bald gentleman, kept looking round at Anna and trying to calm his wife. When his wife left, the husband lingered for a long time, his eyes seeking Anna’s, apparently wishing to bow to her. But Anna, obviously ignoring him on purpose, turned round and was saying something to Yashvin, who leaned his cropped head towards her. Kartasov went out without bowing, and the box was left empty.

Vronsky did not understand precisely what had taken place between the Kartasovs and Anna, but he realized that it had been humiliating for Anna. He realized it both from what he had seen and, most of all, from Anna’s look. He knew she had gathered her last forces in order to maintain the role she had taken upon herself. And in this role of ostensible calm she succeeded fully. People who did not know her and her circle, and who had not heard all the expressions of commiseration, indignation and astonishment from women that she should allow herself to appear in society and appear so conspicuously in her lace attire and in all her beauty, admired the calm and beauty of this woman and did not suspect that she was experiencing the feelings of a person in the pillory.

Knowing that something had happened but not knowing precisely what, Vronsky felt a tormenting anxiety and, hoping to find something out, went to his brother’s box. On his way, deliberately choosing the aisle in the stalls on the side opposite Anna’s box, he ran into the commander of his former regiment, who was talking with two acquaintances. Vronsky heard the name Karenina spoken, and noticed how the commander hastened to address him loudly, with a meaningful glance at the speakers.

‘Ah, Vronsky! When will you visit the regiment? We can’t let you go without a banquet. You’re one of us,’ said the commander.

‘Can’t stop, very sorry, another time,’ Vronsky said and ran up the stairs to his brother’s box.

The old countess, Vronsky’s mother, with her steely little curls, was in his brother’s box. Varya and the young princess Sorokin met him in the corridor of the dress circle.

After taking Princess Sorokin to his mother, Varya gave her brother-in-law her hand and at once began talking to him about what interested him. He had rarely seen her so agitated.

‘I find it mean and nasty, and Mme Kartasov had no right. Anna Arkadyevna ...’ she began.

‘But what? I don’t know.’

‘You mean you haven’t heard?’

‘You know I’ll be the last to hear of it.’

‘Is there a wickeder creature than that Mme Kartasov?’

‘But what did she do?’

‘My husband told me ... She insulted Anna Arkadyevna. Her husband began talking to her across the box, and Mme Kartasov made a scene. They say she said something insulting and walked out.’

‘Count, your maman is calling you,’ said Princess Sorokin, looking out the door of the box.

‘And I’ve been waiting for you all this time,’ his mother said to him with a mocking smile. ‘One sees nothing of you.’

Her son noted that she could not suppress a smile of joy.

‘Good evening, maman. I was coming to see you,’ he said coldly.

‘Why don’t you go faire la cour à madame Karenine?’^at she said, when Princess Sorokin stepped away. ‘Elle fait sensation. On oubli la Patti pour elle.’^au

‘Maman, I asked you not to talk to me about that,’ he answered, frowning.

‘I’m only saying what everybody says.’

Vronsky made no reply and, after saying a few words to Princess Sorokin, left. In the doorway he ran into his brother.

‘Ah, Alexei!’ said his brother. ‘What nastiness! A fool, nothing more ... I was just about to go to her. Let’s go together.’

Vronsky was not listening. He went downstairs with quick steps: he felt he had to do something but did not know what. Vexation with her for putting herself and him in such a false position, along with pity for her suffering, agitated him. He went down to the stalls and made straight for Anna’s baignoire. Stremov stood there talking with her:

‘There are no more tenors. La moule en est brisé.’^av

Vronsky bowed to her and paused to greet Stremov.

‘It seems you got here late and missed the best aria,’ Anna said to Vronsky, looking at him mockingly, as it seemed to him.

‘I’m a poor connoisseur,’ he said, looking sternly at her.

‘Like Prince Yashvin,’ she said, smiling, ‘who finds that Patti sings too loud. Thank you,’ she added, her small hand in its long glove taking the playbill Vronsky had picked up, and suddenly at that instant her beautiful face twitched. She rose and went to the back of the box.