Anna Karenina полностью

Several more minutes passed, they went still further away from the children and were completely alone. Varenka’s heart was pounding so that she could hear it, and she felt herself blush, then turn pale, then blush again.

To be the wife of a man like Koznyshev, after her situation with Mme Stahl, seemed to her the height of happiness. Besides, she was almost certain that she was in love with him. And now it was to be decided. She was frightened. Frightened that he would speak, and that he would not.

He had to declare himself now or never; Sergei Ivanovich felt it, too. Everything in Varenka’s gaze, colour, lowered eyes, showed painful expectation. Sergei Ivanovich saw it and pitied her. He even felt that to say nothing now would be to insult her. In his mind he quickly repeated all the arguments in favour of his decision. He also repeated to himself the words in which he wished to express his proposal; but instead of those words, by some unexpected consideration that occurred to him, he suddenly asked:

‘And what is the difference between a white boletus and a birch boletus?’

Varenka’s lips trembled as she answered:

‘There’s hardly any difference in the caps, but in the feet.’

And as soon as these words were spoken, both he and she understood that the matter was ended, and that what was to have been said would not be said, and their excitement, which had reached its highest point just before then, began to subside.

‘In the birch boletus, the foot resembles a two-day growth of beard on a dark-haired man,’ Sergei Ivanovich said, calmly now.

‘Yes, that’s true,’ Varenka replied, smiling, and the direction of their walk changed inadvertently. They began going towards the children. Varenka was both hurt and ashamed, but at the same time she had a sense of relief.

On returning home and going through all the arguments, Sergei Ivanovich found that his reasoning had been wrong. He could not betray the memory of Marie.

‘Quiet, children, quiet!’ Levin shouted angrily at the children, standing in front of his wife in order to protect her, when the bunch of children came flying to meet them with shrieks of joy.

After the children, Sergei Ivanovich and Varenka also came out of the wood. Kitty had no need to ask Varenka; from the calm and somewhat embarrassed expressions on both their faces, she understood that her plans had not worked out.

‘Well, what happened?’ her husband asked, as they went back home.

‘Didn’t bite,’ said Kitty, her smile and manner of speaking resembling her father‘s, something Levin often noticed in her with pleasure.

‘Didn’t bite, meaning what?’

‘Like this,’ she said, taking her husband’s hand, putting it to her mouth, and touching it with unopened lips. ‘Like kissing a bishop’s hand.’

‘But which of them didn’t bite?’ he said, laughing.

‘Neither. And it should have been like this...’

‘There are muzhiks coming...’

‘No, they didn’t see.’

VI

During the children’s tea the grown-ups sat on the balcony talking as if nothing had happened, though they all knew very well, Sergei Ivanovich and Varenka especially, that something important, though negative, had happened. They both experienced an identical feeling, similar to that of a pupil after failing an examination, staying in the same class or being expelled from the institution for good. Everyone present, also feeling that something had happened, talked animatedly about unrelated subjects. Levin and Kitty felt particularly happy and amorous that evening. And the fact that they were happy in their love contained in itself an unpleasant allusion to those who wanted but could not have the same - and they were embarrassed.

‘Mark my words: Alexandre won’t come,’ said the old princess.

Stepan Arkadyich was expected on the train that evening, and the old prince had written that he, too, might come.

‘And I know why,’ the princess went on. ‘He says that a young couple should be left alone at first.’

‘But papa has left us alone. We haven’t seen him,’ said Kitty. ‘And what kind of young couple are we? We’re already so old.’

‘Only if he doesn’t come, I, too, will say good-bye to you, children,’ said the princess, sighing sadly.

‘Well, what is it to you, mama!’ Both daughters fell upon her.

‘But think, how is it for him? You see, now...’

And suddenly, quite unexpectedly, the old princess’s voice trembled. Her daughters fell silent and exchanged glances. ‘Maman always finds something sad for herself,’ they said with these glances. They did not know that, good as it was for the princess to be at her daughter‘s, and useful as she felt herself there, it had been painfully sad for her and for her husband since they had given away their last beloved daughter in marriage and the family nest had been left empty.

‘What is it, Agafya Mikhailovna?’ Kitty suddenly asked Agafya Mikhailovna, who stood there with a mysterious look and an important face.

‘About supper.’