‘Ah!’ he cried, clutching his head. ‘Hear what she says! ... So, if you were attractive ...’
‘No, Kostya, wait, listen!’ she said, looking at him with an expression of suffering commiseration. ‘What can you be thinking? When nobody exists for me, nobody, nobody!... Do you want me not to see anyone?’
In the first moment his jealousy offended her; she was vexed that the smallest diversion, and the most innocent, was forbidden her; but now she would gladly have sacrificed not just such trifles but everything to deliver him from the suffering he was going through.
‘You understand the horror and comicality of my position,’ he went on in a desperate whisper, ‘that he’s in my house, that he essentially did nothing improper, except for this casualness and tucking his leg under. He considers it the best tone, and so I have to be courteous to him.’
‘But, Kostya, you’re exaggerating,’ said Kitty, who in the depths of her soul rejoiced at the strength of his love which was now expressing itself in his jealousy.
‘The most terrible thing is that you - the way you always are, and now, when you’re so sacred to me and we’re so happy, so especially happy, and suddenly this trash... Not trash, why do I abuse him? I don’t care about him. But why should my happiness, your happiness ... ?’
‘You know, I understand how it happened,’ Kitty began.
‘How? How?’
‘I saw the way you looked as we were talking over dinner.’
‘Ah, yes, yes!’ Levin said fearfully.
She told him what they had been talking about. And as she told it, she was breathless with agitation. Levin remained silent, then looked closer at her pale, frightened face and suddenly clutched his head.
‘Katia, I’m tormenting you! Darling, forgive me! It’s madness! Katia, it’s my fault all round. How could I suffer so over such stupidity?’
‘No, I’m sorry for you.’
‘For me? For me? What am I? A madman! ... But why you? It’s terrible to think that any outsider can upset our happiness.’
‘Of course, that’s the offensive thing ...’
‘No, but, on the contrary, I’ll have him stay with us all summer, on purpose, and I’ll overflow with courtesy,’ Levin said, kissing her hands. ‘You’ll see. Tomorrow ... Ah, right, tomorrow we’re leaving.’
VIII
The next day, before the ladies were up, the hunting carriages, carts and a small wagon stood at the entrance, and Laska, who since morning had understood that they were going hunting, having squealed and jumped her fill, got into the cart beside the driver, looking at the doorway through which the hunters had yet to come with excitement and disapproval of the delay. The first to come out was Vasenka Veslovsky, in big, new boots that reached half-way up his fat haunches, in a green blouse tied at the waist with a cartridge belt smelling of new leather, and in his cap with ribbons, carrying a new English gun with no swivel or sling. Laska bounded over to him, jumped up to greet him, asked him in her own way whether the others were coming out, but, receiving no answer, went back to her lookout post and again froze, her head cocked and one ear pricked up. Finally the door opened with a bang, out flew Krak, Stepan Arkadyich’s golden and white pointer, spinning and turning in the air, and then Stepan Arkadyich himself came out with a gun in his hands and a cigar in his mouth. ‘Good boy, good boy, Krak!’ he called tenderly to the dog, who put his paws on his stomach and chest, clawing at the game bag. Stepan Arkadyich was dressed in brogues and leggings, tattered trousers and a short coat. On his head was the wreck of some hat, but his new-system gun was a jewel, and his game bag and cartridge belt, though worn, were of the best quality.
Vasenka Veslovsky had not previously understood this true hunter’s dandyism - to wear rags but have hunting gear of the best make. He understood it now, looking at Stepan Arkadyich, shining in those rags with the elegance of his well-nourished, gentlemanly figure, and decided that before the next hunting season he would be sure to set himself up in the same way.
‘Well, and what about our host?’ he asked.
‘A young wife,’ Stepan Arkadyich said, smiling.
‘Yes, and such a lovely one.’
‘He was already dressed. He must have run back to her.’
Stepan Arkadyich had guessed right. Levin had run back to his wife to ask her once more if she had forgiven him for yesterday’s foolishness, and also to beg her for the Lord’s sake to be more careful. Above all, to keep further away from the children - they could always bump into her. Then he had to have her confirm once again that she was not angry with him for leaving for two days, and also to ask her to be sure to send a mounted messenger the next morning with a note, to write just two words so that he would know she was well.
