Anna Karenina (Penguin) - Leo Tolstoy [250]
‘I don’t know, I don’t know anything.’
‘But you said yourself that you can’t stand him.’
‘No, I didn’t. I take it back. I don’t know anything, I don’t understand anything.’
‘Yes, but excuse me ...’
‘You can’t understand. I feel I’m flying headlong into some abyss, but I mustn’t try to save myself. And I can’t.’
‘Never mind, we’ll hold something out and catch you. I understand you, I understand that you can’t take it upon yourself to speak your wish, your feeling.’
‘There’s nothing I wish for, nothing ... only that it should all end.’
‘But he sees it and knows it. And do you really think it’s less burdensome for him than for you? You suffer, he suffers, and what on earth can come of it? Whereas a divorce would resolve everything.’ Stepan Arkadyich, not without effort, spoke his main thought and looked at her meaningfully.
She made no reply and shook her cropped head negatively. But by the expression on her face, which suddenly shone with its former beauty, he saw that she did not want it only because to her it seemed an impossible happiness.
‘I’m terribly sorry for you both! And how happy I’d be if I could settle it!’ Stepan Arkadyich said, now with a bolder smile. ‘No, don’t say anything! If only God grants me to speak as I feel. I’ll go to him.’
Anna looked at him with pensive, shining eyes and said nothing.
XXII
Stepan Arkadyich, with that somewhat solemn face with which he usually took the presiding chair in his office, entered Alexei Alexandrovich’s study. Alexei Alexandrovich, his hands behind his back, was pacing the room and thinking about the same thing that Stepan Arkadyich had talked about with his wife.
‘Am I disturbing you?’ said Stepan Arkadyich, who, on seeing his brother-in-law, experienced what was for him an unaccustomed feeling of embarrassment. To hide this embarrassment he produced a cigarette case with a new-fangled clasp he had just bought, sniffed the leather and took out a cigarette.
‘No. Is there something you need?’ Alexei Alexandrovich replied reluctantly.
‘Yes, I’d like ... I need to dis ... yes, to discuss something with you,’ said Stepan Arkadyich, surprised at this unaccustomed feeling of timidity.
It was so unexpected and strange a feeling that Stepan Arkadyich did not believe it was the voice of his conscience, telling him that what he intended to do was bad. Stepan Arkadyich made an effort and conquered the timidity that had come over him.
‘I hope you believe in my love for my sister and in my sincere attachment and respect for you,’ he said, blushing.
Alexei Alexandrovich stopped and made no reply, but Stepan Arkadyich was struck by the look of the submissive victim on his face.
‘I intended ... I wanted to talk with you about my sister and your mutual situation,’ said Stepan Arkadyich, still struggling with his unaccustomed shyness.
Alexei Alexandrovich smiled sadly, looked at his brother-in-law and, without replying, went over to the desk, took from it the beginning of a letter and handed it to him.
‘I think continually of the same thing. And this is what I’ve begun to write, supposing that I will say it better in writing and that my presence annoys her,’ he said, handing him the letter.
Stepan Arkadyich took the letter, looked with perplexed astonishment at the dull eyes gazing fixedly at him, and began to read.
I see that my presence is burdensome to you. Painful as it was for me to become convinced of it, I see that it is so and cannot be otherwise. I do not blame you, and God is my witness that, seeing you during your illness, I resolved with all my soul to forget everything that had been between us and start a new life. I do not repent and will never repent of what I have done; but I desired one thing - your good, the good of your soul - and now I see that I have not achieved it. Tell me yourself what will give you true happiness and peace in your soul. I give myself over entirely to your will and your sense of justice.
Stepan Arkadyich handed the letter back and went on looking at his brother-in-law with the same perplexity, not knowing what