Anna Karenina (Literature Classics Series). Leo Tolstoy
without considering what she really wanted of her husband or what she would have liked him to be. Nor did she understand that Karenin’s peculiar volubility, which so irritated her, was only an expression of the anxiety and unrest within him. As a child that has been hurt skips about, making its muscles move in order to dull its pain, so Karenin needed mental activity to smother those thoughts about his wife which in her presence and in the presence of Vronsky, and amid the continual mention of his name, forced themselves upon him. And as it is natural for the child to skip about, so it was natural for him to speak cleverly and well. He said: ‘The danger in military, that is, cavalry, steeplechases is an unavoidable element of the racing. If England can point to the most brilliant cavalry charges in military history, it is entirely due to the fact that she has historically developed this capacity in her men and horses. Sport in my opinion has great value, but we, as usual, see only what is most external.’
‘Not external at all,’ said the Princess Tverskaya. ‘They say one of the officers has broken two ribs.’
Karenin smiled his usual smile, which showed his teeth but expressed nothing.
‘Granted, Princess,’ said he, ‘that that is not external, but internal. But that is not the point,’ and he again turned to the General with whom he was talking seriously; ‘Do not forget that it is military men who are racing, men who have chosen that career, and one must admit that every calling has a reverse side to its medal. It is directly involved in their military duty. The monstrous sports of prize-fighting, or the Spanish bull-fights, are indications of barbarism, but specialized sport is a sign of progress.’
‘No, I shan’t come again; it excites me too much,’ said the Princess Betsy, ‘Don’t you think so, Anna?’
‘It is exciting, but one cannot tear oneself away,’ said another lady. ‘If I had been a Roman, I should never have missed a gladiatorial show.’
Anna said nothing, but without putting down her glasses looked steadily at one point.
At that moment a highly-placed General made his way through the stand. Interrupting his speech, Karenin rose hurriedly, but with dignity, and bowed low to this general.
‘You are not racing,’ said the latter to him jokingly.
‘My race is a harder one,’ replied Karenin respectfully.
And though the answer did not mean anything, the General made as though he had heard a clever reply from a clever man, and quite appreciated la pointe de la sauce [the flavour of the sauce].
‘There are two sides to it,’ continued Karenin, ‘that of the performers and that of the spectators. The love of such spectacles is the surest proof of low development in the onlookers, I admit, but …’
‘Princess, a bet!’ came the voice of Oblonsky from below, addressing Betsy. ‘Whom are you backing?’
‘Anna and I are betting on Kuzovlev,’ replied Betsy.
‘And I on Vronsky. A pair of gloves?’
‘All right.’
‘What a fine scene, is it not?’
Karenin was silent while others were speaking near him, but began again immediately.
‘I agree that unmanly sports …’ he was continuing. But at that moment the race began and all conversation ceased, Karenin was silent too, as everybody rose and turned their eyes toward the stream. Karenin was not interested in races and therefore did not watch the riders, but began absent-mindedly looking at the spectators with his weary eyes. His gaze rested on Anna.
Her face was pale and stern. She evidently saw nothing and nobody, with one exception. Her hand convulsively grasped her fan, and she did not breathe. He looked at her and hurriedly turned away, scrutinizing other faces.
‘Yes, that lady — and those others — are very excited too; it is quite natural,’ he said to himself. He did not wish to look at her, but his eyes were involuntarily drawn toward her. He again watched her face, trying not to read what was so plainly written on it, but against his will he read in it with horror that which he did not want to know.
The first fall — Kuzovlev’s at the stream — excited every one, but Karenin saw clearly by Anna’s pale, triumphant face that he whom she was watching had not fallen. When after Makhotin and Vronsky had jumped the big barrier the officer following them fell on his head and swooned, a murmur of horror passed through the whole crowd; but Karenin saw that Anna did not even notice the fall and with difficulty understood what those around her were talking about. He looked at her more and more often, and more intently. Anna, though fully engrossed by the sight of the galloping Vronsky, became aware of the cold eyes of her husband bent upon her from one side.
She glanced for an instant at him with a look of inquiry, and, slightly frowning, turned away again.
‘Oh, I don’t care,’ she seemed to say to him, and then did not once look at him again.
The steeplechase was unlucky: more than half of the seventeen officers were thrown and hurt. By the end of the race every one was disturbed, and this disturbance was increased by the fact that the Emperor was displeased.
Chapter 29
EVERY one was loudly expressing disapproval and repeating the words some one had uttered: ‘They will have gladiators and lions next,’ and every one was feeling the horror of it, so that when Vronsky fell and Anna gave a loud exclamation, there was nothing remarkable about it. But afterwards a change came over Anna’s face which was positively improper. She quite lost self-control. She began to flutter like a captive bird, now rising to go, now addressing Betsy.
‘Let us go!’ she said.
But Betsy did not hear her. She was leaning over to speak to a General who was below.
Karenin approached Anna and politely offered her his arm.
‘Come, if you like,’ he said in French; but Anna listened to what the General was saying and did not notice her husband.
‘He too has broken his leg, they say. It’s too bad,’ the General said.
Anna, without replying to her husband, raised her glasses and looked toward the spot where Vronsky had fallen; but it was so far off and so many people had crowded there, that it was impossible to distinguish anything. She put down her glasses and was about to go; but at that moment an officer galloped up and reported something to the Emperor. Anna bent forward to listen.
‘Stiva! Stiva!’ she called to her brother.
But he did not hear her. She was again on the point of going.
‘I again offer you my arm if you wish to go,’ said her husband touching her arm. With a look of repulsion she drew back, and without looking at him replied:
‘No, no, leave me alone, I shall stay here.’
She now saw an officer running to the Grand Stand from the place where Vronsky had fallen. Betsy waved her handkerchief to him. The officer brought the news that the rider was unhurt but that the horse had broken its back.
On hearing this Anna quickly sat down and hid her face behind her fan. Karenin saw that she was crying, and that she was unable to keep back either her tears or the sobs that made her bosom heave. He stepped forward so as to screen her, giving her time to recover.
‘For the third time I offer you my arm,’ he said after a while, turning toward her. Anna looked at him and did not know what to say. The Princess Betsy came to her aid.
‘No, Alexis Alexandrovich,’ she put in, ‘I brought Anna here and I have promised to take her back again.’
‘Excuse me, Princess,’ he said, smiling politely but looking her firmly in the eyes, ‘but I see that Anna is not very well, and I wish her to come