Читать книгу Anna Karenina (Maude Translation, Unabridged and Annotated) - Leo Tolstoy - Страница 24

AT eleven o’clock next morning Vronsky drove to the Petersburg railway station in Moscow to meet his mother, and the first person he saw on the steps of the large portico was Oblonsky, who was expecting his sister by the same train.

‘Hallo, your Excellency!’ exclaimed Oblonsky. ‘Whom are you after?’

‘My mother,’ replied Vronsky, shaking hands and smiling (as everybody did when meeting Oblonsky) as they went up the steps together. ‘She is coming from Petersburg to-day.’

‘I waited for you till two last night; where did you go from the Shcherbatskys’?’

‘Home,’ replied Vronsky. ‘To tell you the truth I felt in such a pleasant mood when I left the Shcherbatskys’ that I did not care to go anywhere else.’

‘ “Fiery steeds by” something “brands

I can always recognize;

Youths in love …” ’

declaimed Oblonsky, just as he had done to Levin.

Vronsky smiled with a look that seemed not to deny the implication but he immediately changed the subject.

‘And whom have you come to meet?’ he asked.

‘I? A lovely woman,’ answered Oblonsky.

‘Dear me!’

‘Honi soit qui mal y pense! [Shame on him who thinks ill of it!] My sister Anna!’

‘Oh! Mrs. Karenina!’ said Vronsky.

‘I expect you know her?’

‘I think I do. But perhaps not… . I really can’t remember,’ answered Vronsky absent-mindedly, the name Karenina suggesting to him some one stiff and dull.

‘But you are sure to know Alexis Alexandrovich Karenin, my famous brother-in-law. All the world knows him.’

‘Yes, I know him by repute and by sight. I know he is clever, learned, and by way of being religious, but you know it is not my … not in my line,’ he added in English.

‘Oh yes, he is a very remarkable man, a bit conservative, but a splendid fellow,’ said Oblonsky, ‘a splendid fellow.’

‘Well, so much the better for him,’ and Vronsky smiled. ‘Ah, you are here!’ he went on, turning toward his mother’s old footman who was standing by the door. ‘Come in here.’

Besides liking Oblonsky, as everybody did, Vronsky latterly had felt still more drawn to him because he was connected in his mind with Kitty.

‘Well, are we to give a supper to the diva next Sunday?’ he asked smilingly, taking Oblonsky’s arm.

‘Certainly, I will collect subscriptions. I say, did you make the acquaintance of my friend Levin last night?’ asked Oblonsky.

‘Of course. Only he left very early.’

‘He is a splendid fellow,’ continued Oblonsky. ‘Don’t you think so?’

‘I don’t know how it is that all Muscovites, present company of course excepted,’ Vronsky put in jokingly, ‘are so abrupt. They are always standing on their hind legs getting angry, and seem to want to act on your feelings …’

‘Yes, there is some truth in that,’ said Oblonsky, laughing merrily.

‘Shall we have to wait much longer?’ asked Vronsky, turning to a porter.

‘The train is signalled,’ said the porter.

The approach of the train was made more and more evident by the increasing bustle and preparation on the platform and the arrival of people who had come to meet the train. Through the frosty mist one could see workmen in sheepskin coats and felt boots crossing the curved railway lines, and hear the whistle of a locomotive and the noisy movements of a heavy mass.

‘No,’ said Oblonsky who was anxious to tell Vronsky about Levin’s intentions concerning Kitty, ‘no, you have not judged my Levin rightly. He is a very nervous man, and does make himself unpleasant sometimes, that’s true enough; but on the other hand he is sometimes very charming. His is such an honest, straightforward nature, and he has a heart of gold. But yesterday there were special reasons,’ continued Oblonsky with a significant smile, quite forgetting the sincere sympathy he had felt for his friend the day before, and now only feeling the same sympathy for Vronsky. ‘Yes, there was a reason why he had to be either specially happy or specially unhappy.’

Vronsky stopped and asked him straight out: ‘What do you mean? Did he propose to your belle sœur [sister-in-law] last night?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Oblonsky. ‘I seemed to notice something of the kind yesterday. Oh yes, if he left early and was in a bad temper it must be that… . He has been in love with her so long, and I am very sorry for him.’

‘Dear me! … But I should think she may make a better match,’ said Vronsky, and expanding his chest he again moved forward. ‘However, I don’t know him,’ he added. ‘Yes, it is a painful position! That is why so many prefer women of the demi-monde. If you don’t succeed in that case it only shows that you have not enough money, but in this case one’s pride is in the balance. But here’s the train.’

In fact the engine was already whistling in the distance, and a few moments later the platform shook as the train puffed in; the steam spread low in the frozen air, the connecting rods slowly and rhythmically pushed and pulled, the bent figure of the engine-driver, warmly wrapped up, was seen covered with hoar-frost. The engine with the tender behind it moved slowly into the station, gradually slowing down and making the platform tremble still more. Then came the luggage van in which a dog was whining, and at last the passenger coaches, oscillating before they stopped.

The sprightly guard blew his whistle and jumped off while the train was still moving, and impatient passengers began to descend one after another: an officer of the guards, erect and looking sternly round, a fidgety little tradesman with a bag, a peasant with a sack over his shoulder… .

Vronsky, as he stood by Oblonsky and watched these passengers coming out of the carriages, quite forgot about his mother. What he had just heard about Kitty excited and delighted him. His chest involuntarily expanded and his eyes shone, he felt himself to be a conqueror.

‘The Countess Vronsky is in that compartment,’ said the sprightly guard, addressing Vronsky.

His words roused Vronsky from his reverie and reminded him of his mother and of the coming meeting.

In the depths of his heart he did not respect his mother and (though this he never acknowledged to himself) did not love her, but in accordance with the views of the set he lived in, and as a result of his education, he could not imagine himself treating her in any way but one altogether submissive and respectful; the more submissive and respectful he was externally, the less he honoured and loved her in his heart.