Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy [books to read in your 30s .txt] 📗

she could understand the game, and by the time she did understand it, she was so tired that she sat down with Princess Varvara and simply looked on at the players. Her partner, Tushkevitch, gave up playing too, but the others kept the game up for a long time. Sviazhsky and Vronsky both played very well and seriously. They kept a sharp lookout on the balls served to them, and without haste or getting in each other’s way, they ran adroitly up to them, waited for the rebound, and neatly and accurately returned them over the net. Veslovsky played worse than the others. He was too eager, but he kept the players lively with his high spirits. His laughter and outcries never paused. Like the other men of the party, with the ladies’ permission, he took off his coat, and his solid, comely figure in his white shirtsleeves, with his red perspiring face and his impulsive movements, made a picture that imprinted itself vividly on the memory.

When Darya Alexandrovna lay in bed that night, as soon as she closed her eyes, she saw Vassenka Veslovsky flying about the croquet ground.

During the game Darya Alexandrovna was not enjoying herself. She did not like the light tone of raillery that was kept up all the time between Vassenka Veslovsky and Anna, and the unnaturalness altogether of grown-up people, all alone without children, playing at a child’s game. But to avoid breaking up the party and to get through the time somehow, after a rest she joined the game again, and pretended to be enjoying it. All that day it seemed to her as though she were acting in a theater with actors cleverer than she, and that her bad acting was spoiling the whole performance. She had come with the intention of staying two days, if all went well. But in the evening, during the game, she made up her mind that she would go home next day. The maternal cares and worries, which she had so hated on the way, now, after a day spent without them, struck her in quite another light, and tempted her back to them.

When, after evening tea and a row by night in the boat, Darya Alexandrovna went alone to her room, took off her dress, and began arranging her thin hair for the night, she had a great sense of relief.

It was positively disagreeable to her to think that Anna was coming to see her immediately. She longed to be alone with her own thoughts.

XXIII

Dolly was wanting to go to bed when Anna came in to see her, attired for the night. In the course of the day Anna had several times begun to speak of matters near her heart, and every time after a few words she had stopped: “Afterwards, by ourselves, we’ll talk about everything. I’ve got so much I want to tell you,” she said.

Now they were by themselves, and Anna did not know what to talk about. She sat in the window looking at Dolly, and going over in her own mind all the stores of intimate talk which had seemed so inexhaustible beforehand, and she found nothing. At that moment it seemed to her that everything had been said already.

“Well, what of Kitty?” she said with a heavy sigh, looking penitently at Dolly. “Tell me the truth, Dolly: isn’t she angry with me?”

“Angry? Oh, no!” said Darya Alexandrovna, smiling.

“But she hates me, despises me?”

“Oh, no! But you know that sort of thing isn’t forgiven.”

“Yes, yes,” said Anna, turning away and looking out of the open window. “But I was not to blame. And who is to blame? What’s the meaning of being to blame? Could it have been otherwise? What do you think? Could it possibly have happened that you didn’t become the wife of Stiva?”

“Really, I don’t know. But this is what I want you to tell me.⁠ ⁠…”

“Yes, yes, but we’ve not finished about Kitty. Is she happy? He’s a very nice man, they say.”

“He’s much more than very nice. I don’t know a better man.”

“Ah, how glad I am! I’m so glad! Much more than very nice,” she repeated.

Dolly smiled.

“But tell me about yourself. We’ve a great deal to talk about. And I’ve had a talk with.⁠ ⁠…” Dolly did not know what to call him. She felt it awkward to call him either the count or Alexey Kirillovitch.

“With Alexey,” said Anna, “I know what you talked about. But I wanted to ask you directly what you think of me, of my life?”

“How am I to say like that straight off? I really don’t know.”

“No, tell me all the same.⁠ ⁠… You see my life. But you mustn’t forget that you’re seeing us in the summer, when you have come to us and we are not alone.⁠ ⁠… But we came here early in the spring, lived quite alone, and shall be alone again, and I desire nothing better. But imagine me living alone without him, alone, and that will be⁠ ⁠… I see by everything that it will often be repeated, that he will be half the time away from home,” she said, getting up and sitting down close by Dolly.

“Of course,” she interrupted Dolly, who would have answered, “of course I won’t try to keep him by force. I don’t keep him indeed. The races are just coming, his horses are running, he will go. I’m very glad. But think of me, fancy my position.⁠ ⁠… But what’s the use of talking about it?” She smiled. “Well, what did he talk about with you?”

“He spoke of what I want to speak about of myself, and it’s easy for me to be his advocate; of whether there is not a possibility⁠ ⁠… whether you could not.⁠ ⁠…” (Darya Alexandrovna hesitated) “correct, improve your position.⁠ ⁠… You know how I look at it.⁠ ⁠… But all the same, if possible, you should get married.⁠ ⁠…”

“Divorce, you mean?” said Anna. “Do you know, the only woman who came to see me in Petersburg was Betsy