When he saw Kitty leaving and her mother meeting her on the steps, Levin, flushed after such quick movement, stopped and considered. He took off his skates and caught up with the mother and daughter at the exit from the garden.
'Very glad to see you,' said the princess. 'We receive on Thursdays, as usual.'
'Today, then?'
'We shall be very glad to see you,' the princess said drily.
This dryness upset Kitty, and she could not hold back the wish to smooth over her mother's coldness. She turned her head and said with a smile:
'See you soon.'
At that moment Stepan Arkadyich, his hat cocked, his face and eyes shining, came into the garden with a merrily triumphant look. But, coming up to his mother-in-law, he answered her questions about Dolly's health with a mournful, guilty face. Having spoken softly and glumly with her, he straightened up and took Levin's arm.
'Well, then, shall we go?' he asked. 'I kept thinking about you, and I'm very, very glad you've come,' he said, looking into his eyes with a significant air.
'Let's go, let's go,' replied the happy Levin, still hearing the sound of the voice saying 'See you soon' and picturing the smile with which it had been said.
'To the Anglia or the Hermitage?'
'It makes no difference to me.'
'To the Anglia, then,' said Stepan Arkadyich, choosing the Anglia because he owed more in the Anglia than in the Hermitage. He therefore considered it not nice to avoid that hotel. 'Do you have a cab? Excellent, because I dismissed my carriage.' The friends were silent all the way. Levin thought about the meaning of that change in Kitty's face, and first assured himself that there was hope, then fell into despair and saw clearly that his hope was mad, and yet he felt himself quite a different man, not like the one he had been before her smile and the words: 'See you soon'.
Stepan Arkadyich devised the dinner menu on the way.
'You do like turbot?' he said to Levin, as they drove up.
'What?' asked Levin. 'Turbot? Yes, I'm terribly fond of turbot.'
X
As Levin entered the hotel with Oblonsky, he could not help noticing a certain special expression, as if of restrained radiance, on the face and in the whole figure of Stepan Arkadyich. Oblonsky took off his coat and with his hat cocked passed into the restaurant, giving orders to the Tartar[16] in tailcoats who clung to him, napkins over their arms. Bowing right and left to the joyful greetings of acquaintances who turned up there, as everywhere, he went to the bar, followed his glass of vodka with a bit of fish, and said something to the painted Frenchwoman in ribbons, lace and ringlets who was sitting at the counter, so that even this Frenchwoman burst into genuine laughter. Levin did not drink vodka, if only because this Frenchwoman, who seemed to consist entirely of other people's hair, poudre de riz and vinaigre de toilette,* was offensive to him. He hastened to step away from her as from a dirty spot. His whole soul was overflowing with the remembrance of Kitty, and in his eyes shone a smile of triumph and happiness.
'This way, your highness, if you please, you will not be disturbed here, your highness,' said a particularly clinging, blanched old Tartar with broad hips over which the tails of his coat parted. 'Your hat please, your highness,' he said to Levin, courting the guest as a token of respect for Stepan Arkadyich.
Instantly spreading a fresh tablecloth on a round table, already covered with a tablecloth, under a bronze lamp-bracket, he drew out the velvet chairs and stood before Stepan Arkadyich, napkin and menu in hand, awaiting orders.
Rice powder and cosmetic vinegar.
'If you prefer, your highness, a private room will presently be vacated: Prince Golitsyn and a lady. Fresh oysters have come in.'
'Ah, oysters!'
Stepan Arkadyich fell to thinking.
'Shouldn't we change our plan, Levin?' he said, his finger pausing on the menu. And his face showed serious perplexity. 'Are they good oysters? Mind yourself!'
'Flensburg, your highness, we have no Ostend oysters.'
'Flensburg, yes, but are they fresh?'
'Came in yesterday, sir.'
'In that case, shouldn't we begin with oysters, and then change the whole plan? Eh?'
'It makes no difference to me. I like shchi and kasha best[17] but they won't have that here.'
'Kasha a la Russe, if you please?' the Tartar said, bending over Levin like a nanny over a child.
'No, joking aside, whatever you choose will be fine. I did some skating and I'm hungry. And don't think,' he added, noticing the displeased expression on Oblonsky's face, 'that I won't appreciate your choice. I'll enjoy a good meal.'
'To be sure! Say what you like, it is one of life's enjoyments,' said Stepan Arkadyich. 'Well, then, my good man, bring us two - no, make it three dozen oysters, vegetable soup ...'
'Printaniere,' the Tartar picked up. But Stepan Arkadyich evidently did not want to give him the pleasure of naming the dishes in French.
'Vegetable soup, you know? Then turbot with thick sauce, then ... roast beef - but mind it's good. And why not capon - well, and some stewed fruit.'
The Tartar, remembering Stepan Arkadyich's manner of not naming dishes from the French menu, did not repeat after him, but gave himself the pleasure of repeating the entire order from the menu: 'Soupe printaniere, turbot sauce Beaumarchais, poularde a l'estragon, macedoine de fruits ...' and at once, as if on springs, laid aside one bound menu, picked up another, the wine list, and offered it to Stepan Arkadyich.
'What shall we drink?'
'I'll have whatever you like, only not much, some champagne,' said Levin.
'What? To begin with? Though why not, in fact? Do you like the one with the white seal?' 'Cachet blanc,' the Tartar picked up.
'Well, so bring us that with the oysters, and then we'll see.'
'Right, sir. What table wine would you prefer?'
'Bring us the Nuits. No, better still the classic Chablis.'
'Right, sir. Would you prefer your cheese?'
'Yes, the Parmesan. Unless you'd prefer something else?'
'No, it makes no difference to me,' said Levin, unable to repress a
smile.
And the Tartar, his tails flying over his broad hips, ran off and five minutes later rushed in again with a plate of opened oysters in their pearly shells and a bottle between his fingers.
Stepan Arkadyich crumpled the starched napkin, tucked it into his waistcoat, and, resting his arms comfortably, applied himself to the oysters.
'Not bad,' he said, peeling the sloshy oysters from their pearly shells with a little silver fork and swallowing them one after another. 'Not bad,' he repeated, raising his moist and shining eyes now to Levin, now to the Tartar.
Levin ate the oysters, though white bread and cheese would have been more to his liking. But he admired Oblonsky. Even the Tartar, drawing the cork and pouring the sparkling wine into shallow thin glasses, then straightening his white tie, kept glancing with a noticeable smile of pleasure at Stepan Arkadyich.
'You don't care much for oysters?' said Stepan Arkadyich, drinking off his glass. 'Or else you're preoccupied? Eh?'
He wanted Levin to be cheerful. Yet it was not that Levin was not cheerful: he felt constrained. With what he had in his soul, it was eerie and awkward for him to be in a tavern, next to private rooms where one dined in the company of ladies, amidst this hustle and bustle. These surroundings of bronze, mirrors, gaslights, Tartars - it was all offensive to him. He was afraid to soil what was overflowing in his soul.
'Me? Yes, I'm preoccupied. But, besides, I feel constrained by all this,' he said. 'You can't imagine how wild all this is for a countryman like me - or take the nails of that gentleman I saw in your office ...'
'Yes, I could see poor Grinevich's nails interested you greatly,' Stepan Arkadyich said, laughing.
'I can't help it,' replied Levin. 'Try getting inside me, look at it from a countryman's point of view. In the country we try to keep our hands in a condition that makes them convenient to work with; fo
r that we cut our nails and sometimes roll up our sleeves. While here people purposely let their nails grow as long as they can, and stick on saucers instead of cuff-links, so that it would be impossible for them to do anything with their hands.'
Stepan Arkadyich smiled gaily.
'Yes, it's a sign that he has no need of crude labour. His mind works...'
'Maybe. But all the same it seems wild to me, just as it seems wild to me that while we countrymen try to eat our fill quickly, so that we can get on with what we have to do, you and I are trying our best not to get full for as long as possible, and for that we eat oysters ...'
'Well, of course,' Stepan Arkadyich picked up. 'But that's the aim of civilization: to make everything an enjoyment.'
'Well, if that's its aim, I'd rather be wild.'
'You're wild as it is. All you Levins are wild.[18]
Levin sighed. He remembered his brother Nikolai, and felt ashamed and pained. He frowned, but Oblonsky began talking about a subject that distracted him at once.
'So you're going to see our people tonight - the Shcherbatskys, I mean?' he said, pushing aside the empty scabrous shells and drawing the cheese towards him, his eyes shining significantly.
'Yes, I'll certainly go,' replied Levin. 'Though it seemed to me the princess invited me reluctantly.'
'Come, now! What nonsense! That's her manner ... Well, my good man, serve the soup! ... That's her manner, the grande dame,' said Stepan Arkadyich. 'I'll come, too, only I have to go to a choir rehearsal at Countess Banin's first. Well, what are you if not wild? How else explain the way you suddenly disappeared from Moscow? The Shcherbatskys kept asking me about you, as if I should know. I know only one thing: you always do what nobody else does.'
'Yes,' Levin said slowly and with agitation. 'You're right, I am wild. Only my wildness isn't in my leaving, but in my coming now. I've come now...'
'Oh, what a lucky man you are!' Stepan Arkadyich picked up, looking into Levin's eyes.
'Why?'
'Bold steeds I can tell by their something-or-other thighs, and young men in love by the look in their eyes,[19] declaimed Stepan Arkadyich. 'You've got everything before you.' 'And with you it's already behind?'
'No, not behind, but you have the future and I the present - a bit of this, a bit of that'
'And?'
'Not so good. Well, but I don't want to talk about myself, and besides it's impossible to explain everything,' said Stepan Arkadyich. 'So what have you come to Moscow for? ... Hey, clear away!' he called to the Tartar.
'Can't you guess?' replied Levin, gazing steadily at Stepan Arkadyich, his eyes lit from within.
'I can, but I can't be the first to speak of it. By that alone you can see whether I've guessed right or not,' said Stepan Arkadyich, glancing at Levin with a subtle smile.
'Well, what do you say?' Levin said in a trembling voice and feeling all the muscles in his face trembling. 'How do you look at it?'
Stepan Arkadyich slowly drank his glass of Chablis, not taking his eyes off Levin.
'I?' said Stepan Arkadyich. 'I'd like nothing better than that - nothing. It's the best thing that could happen.'
'But you're not mistaken? You do know what we're talking about?' Levin said, fastening his eyes on his interlocutor. 'You think it's possible?'
'I think it's possible. Why should it be impossible?'
'No, you really think it's possible? No, tell me all you think! Well, and what if... what if I should be refused?... And I'm even certain ...'
'Why do you think so?' Stepan Arkadyich said, smiling at his friend's excitement.
'It sometimes seems so to me. But that would be terrible both for me and for her.'
'Well, in any case, for a girl there's nothing terrible in it. Every girl is proud of being proposed to.'
'Yes, every girl, but not she.'
Stepan Arkadyich smiled. He knew so well this feeling of Levin's, knew that for him all the girls in the world were divided into two sorts: one sort was all the girls in the world except her, and these girls had all human weaknesses and were very ordinary girls; the other sort was her alone, with no weaknesses and higher than everything human.
'Wait, have some sauce,' he said, stopping Levin's hand, which was Pushing the sauce away.
Levin obediently took some sauce, but would not let Stepan Arkadyich eat.
'No, wait, wait!' he said. 'Understand that for me it's a question of life and death. I've never talked about it with anyone. And I can't talk about it with anyone but you. Look, here we are, strangers in everything: different tastes, views, everything; but I know that you love me and understand me, and for that I love you terribly. So, for God's sake, be completely open.'
'I'm telling you what I think,' Stepan Arkadyich said, smiling. 'But I'll tell you more: my wife is a most remarkable woman...' Stepan Arkadyich sighed, remembering his relations with his wife, and after a moment's silence went on: 'She has a gift of foresight. She can see through people; but, more than that, she knows what's going to happen, especially along marital lines. She predicted, for instance, that Shakhovskoy would marry Brenteln. No one wanted to believe it, but it turned out to be so. And she's on your side.'
'Meaning what?'
'Meaning not just that she loves you - she says Kitty will certainly be your wife.'
At these words Levin's face suddenly lit up with a smile, of the sort that is close to tears of tenderness.
'She says that!' Levin cried. 'I always said she was a delight, your wife. Well, enough, enough talking about it,' he said, getting up from his seat.
'All right, only do sit down, the soup's coming.'
But Levin could not sit down. He paced the little cell of a room twice with his firm strides, blinked his eyes to keep the tears from showing, and only then sat down at the table again.
'Understand,' he said, 'that it isn't love. I've been in love, but this is not the same. This is not my feeling, but some external force taking possession of me. I left because I decided it could not be, you understand, like a happiness that doesn't exist on earth; but I have struggled with myself and I see that without it there is no life. And I must resolve ...'
'Then why did you go away?'
'Ah, wait! Ah, so many thoughts! I have so much to ask! Listen. You can't imagine what you've done for me by what you've said. I'm so happy that I've even become mean; I've forgotten everything ... I found out today that my brother Nikolai... you know, he's here ... I forgot about him, too. It seems to me that he's happy, too. It's like madness. But there's one terrible thing ... You're married, you know this feeling ... The terrible thing is that we older men, who already have a past... not of love, but of sins ... suddenly become close with a pure, innocent being; it's disgusting, and so you can't help feeling yourself unworthy.'
'Well, you don't have so many sins.'
'Ah, even so,' said Levin, 'even so, "with disgust reading over my life, I tremble and curse, and bitterly complain .. .[20] Yes.'
'No help for it, that's how the world is made,' said Stepan Arkadyich.
'There's one consolation, as in that prayer I've always loved, that I may be forgiven not according to my deserts, but out of mercy. That's also the only way she can forgive me.'
XI
Levin finished his glass, and they were silent for a while.
'There's one more thing I must tell you. Do you know Vronsky?' Stepan Arkadyich asked Levin.
'No, I don't. Why do you ask?'
'Bring us another,' Stepan Arkadyich addressed the Tartar, who was filling their glasses and fussing around them precisely when he was not needed.
'Why should I know Vronsky?'
'You should know Vronsky because he's one of your rivals.'
'What is this Vronsky?' said Levin, and his face, from that expression of childlike rapture which Oblonsky had just been admiring, suddenly turned spiteful and unpleasant.
'Vronsky is one of the sons of Count Kirill Ivanovich Vronsky and one of the finest examples of the gilded yo
uth of Petersburg. I got to know him in Tver, when I was in government service there and he came for the conscription. Terribly rich, handsome, big connections, an imperial aide-de-camp, and with all that - a very sweet, nice fellow. And more than just a nice fellow. As I've come to know him here, he's both cultivated and very intelligent. He's a man who will go far.'
Levin frowned and kept silent.
Well, sir, he appeared here soon after you left and, as I understand, is head over heels in love with Kitty, and, you understand, her mother...'
'Excuse me, but I understand nothing,' said Levin, scowling gloomily. And he at once remembered his brother Nikolai and how mean he was to have forgotten about him.
'Wait, wait,' said Stepan Arkadyich, smiling and touching his hand. 'I've told you what I know, and I repeat that in this subtle and delicate matter, as far as I can surmise, the chances seem to be on your side.'