Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part Three/Chapter 23
CHAPTER XXIII
The Commission of the 2d of June usually held its sittings on Monday.
Alekseï Aleksandrovitch entered the committee-room, bowed to the members and the president as usual, and took his place, laying his hand on the papers made ready for him. Among the number were the data which he needed, and the outline of the proposition that he intended to make. These notes, however, were not necessary. His grasp of the subject was complete, and he did not need to refresh his memory as to what he was going to say. He knew that when the time came, and he should see his adversary vainly endeavoring to put on an expression of indifference, his speech would come of itself in better shape than he could now determine. He felt that the meaning of his speech was so great that every word would have its importance. Meantime, as he listened to the reading of the report, he had a most innocent and inoffensive expression. No one, seeing his white hands, with their swollen veins, his delicate, long fingers doubling up the two ends of the sheet of white paper lying before him, and his expression of weariness, as he sat with head on one side, would have believed it possible that, in a few moments, from his lips would proceed a speech which would raise a terrible tempest, cause the members of the Commission to outdo one another in screaming, and oblige the president to call them to order.
When the report was finished, Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, in his weak, shrill voice, said that he had a few observations to make in regard to the situation of the foreign tribes. Attention was concentrated on him. Alekseï Aleksandrovitch cleared his throat, and, not looking at his adversary, but, as he always did at the beginning of his speeches, addressing the person who sat nearest in front of him, who happened to be a little, meek old man, without the slightest importance in the Commission, began to deliver his views.
When he reached the matter of the fundamental and organic law, his adversary leaped to his feet, and began to reply. Stremof, who was also a member of the Commission, and also touched to the quick, arose to defend himself; and the session proved to be excessively stormy. But Alekseï Aleksandrovitch triumphed, and his proposition was accepted. The three new commissions were appointed, and the next day in a certain Petersburg circle this session formed the staple topic of conversation. Alekseï Aleksandrovitch's success far outstripped his anticipations.
The next morning, which was Tuesday, Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, on awaking, recalled with pleasure his victory of the day before; and he could not repress a smile, although he wanted to appear indifferent, when the director of the chancelry, wishing to flatter him, told him of the rumors which had reached his ears in regard to the proceedings of the Commission.
Occupied as he was with the director of the chancelry, Alekseï Aleksandrovitch absolutely forgot that the day was Tuesday, the day set by him for Anna Arkadyevna's return; and he was surprised and disagreeably impressed when a domestic came to announce that she had come.
Anna reached Petersburg early in the morning. A carriage had been sent for her in response to her telegram, and so Alekseï Aleksandrovitch might have known of her coming. But when she came, he did not go to receive her. She was told that he had not yet gone out, but was busy with the director of the chancelry. She bade the servant announce her arrival, and then went to her boudoir, and began to unpack her things, expecting that he would come to her. But an hour passed, and he did not appear. She went to the dining-room, under the pretext of giving some orders, and spoke unusually loud, thinking that he would join her there. But still he did not come, though she heard him come to the door of his library, accompanying the director of the chancelry. She knew that it was his habit about this time to go to his office; and she wanted to see him before that, so that their plan of action might be decided.
She passed through the "hall," and, finally making up her mind, went to him. She stepped into the library. Dressed in his uniform, apparently ready to take his departure, he was sitting at a little table, leaning his elbows on it, and wrapped in melancholy thought. She saw him before he noticed her, and she knew that he was thinking of her.
When he caught sight of her, he started to get up, hesitated, and then, for the first time since Anna had known him, he blushed. Then, quickly rising, he advanced toward her, not looking at her eyes, but at her forehead and hair. He came to her, took her by the hand, and invited her to sit down.
"I am very glad that you have come," he stammered, sitting down near her, and evidently desiring to talk with her. Several times he began to speak, but hesitated.
Although she was prepared for this interview, and had made up her mind to defend herself, and accuse him, she did not know what to say to him, and she felt sorry for him. And so the silence lasted some little time.
"Is Serozha well?" at length he asked; and, without waiting for an answer, he added, "I shall not dine at home to-day; I have to leave immediately."
"I intended to start for Moscow," said Anna.
"No; you did very, very well to come home," he replied, and again was silent.
Seeing that it was beyond his strength to begin the conversation, she herself began:—
"Alekseï Aleksandrovitch," said she, looking at him, and not dropping her eyes under his gaze, which was still concentrated on her head-dress, "I am a guilty woman; I am a wicked woman; but I am what I have been,—what I told you I was,—and I have come to tell you that I cannot change."
"I did not ask you about this," he replied instantly, with sudden resolution, and, with an expression of hate, looking straight into her eyes. "I presuppose that." Under the influence of anger, he apparently regained control of all his faculties. "But as I told you then, and wrote you,"—he spoke in a sharp, shrill voice,—"I now repeat, that I am not obliged to know this. I ignore it. Not all women are so good as you are, to hasten to give their husbands such very pleasant news." He laid a special stress on the word priyatnoye, "pleasant." " I will ignore it for the present, as long as the world does not know,—as long as my name is not dishonored. I, therefore, only warn you that our relations must remain as they always have been, and that only in case of your compromising yourself, shall I be forced to take measures to protect my honor."
"But our relations cannot remain as they have been," she said with timid accents, looking at him in terror.
As she once more saw his undemonstrative gestures, heard his mocking voice with its. sharp, childish tones, all the pity that she had begun to feel for him was driven away by the aversion that he inspired, and she had only a feeling of fear, which arose from the fact that she did not see any light in regard to their relations.
"I cannot be your wife, when I ...." she began.
He laughed with a cold and wicked laugh.
"It must needs be that the manner of life which you have chosen is reflected in your ideas. I have too much esteem or contempt.... or rather I esteem your past, and despise your present.... too much for me to accept the interpretation which you put on my words."
Anna sighed, and bowed her head.
"Besides, I do not understand how you, having so much independence," he continued, growing excited, "and telling your husband up and down of your infidelity, and not finding anything blameworthy in it, as it seems, how you can find anything blameworthy either in the fulfilment of a wife's duties to her husband."
"Alekseï Aleksandrovitch! What do you require of me?"
"I require that I may never meet this man here, and that you comport yourself so that neither the world nor our servants can accuse you .... that you do not see him. It seems to me that this is little. And in doing this, you will enjoy the rights of an honorable wife, though you do not fulfil the obligations. This is all that I have to say to you. Now it is time for me to go. I shall not dine at home."
He got up, and went to the door. Anna also arose. He silently bowed, and allowed her to pass.