Anna Karenina (Penguin) - Leo Tolstoy [314]
‘I’m very sorry for that, because my tastes are mostly bad,’ Yashvin said, biting the left side of his moustache.
Having talked for a while and noticing that Vronsky was glancing at the clock, Yashvin asked her how long she would be in Petersburg and, unbending his enormous figure, took his cap.
‘Not long, it seems,’ she said in perplexity, glancing at Vronsky.
‘So we won’t see more of each other?’ said Yashvin, standing up and addressing Vronsky. ‘Where will you dine?’
‘Come and dine with me,’ Anna said resolutely, as if angry with herself for her embarrassment, but blushing as she always did when she revealed her position to a new person. ‘The dinners aren’t good here, but at least you’ll see each other. Of all his comrades in the regiment, there’s no one Alexei loves more than you.’
‘Delighted,’ Yashvin said with a smile, by which Vronsky could see that he liked Anna very much.
Yashvin bowed and left. Vronsky stayed behind.
‘You’re going, too?’ she asked him.
‘I’m late already,’ he answered. ‘Go on! I’ll catch up with you in a minute,’ he called to Yashvin.
She held his hand and gazed at him, not taking her eyes away, searching her mind for something to say that would keep him there.
‘Wait, I must tell you something,’ and, taking his short hand, she pressed it to her neck. ‘So it’s all right that I asked him to dinner?’
‘You did splendidly,’ he said with a calm smile, revealing his solid row of teeth, and kissed her hand.
‘Alexei, you haven’t changed towards me?’ she said, pressing his hand with both of hers. ‘Alexei, I’m suffering here. When will we leave?’
‘Soon, soon. You wouldn’t believe how painful our life here is for me, too,’ he said, and withdrew his hand.
‘Well, go, go!’ she said, offended, and quickly left him.
XXXII
When Vronsky came home, Anna was not yet there. He was told that some lady had come to see her shortly after he left and they had gone off together. The fact that she had gone without saying where, that she was still away, that she had also gone somewhere in the morning without telling him anything-all this, along with the strangely excited expression of her face that morning and the memory of the hostile tone with which, in Yashvin’s presence, she had all but torn the photographs of her son out of his hands, made him ponder. He decided that it was necessary to have a talk with her. And he waited for her in her drawing room. But Anna did not come back alone; she brought her aunt with her, an old maid, Princess Oblonsky. This was the same one who had come in the morning and with whom Anna had gone shopping. Anna seemed not to notice Vronsky’s concerned and questioning expression and cheerfully told him what she had bought that morning. He saw that something peculiar was going on in her: her shining eyes, when they fleetingly rested on him, showed a strained attention, and her talk and movements had that nervous quickness and grace that in the first time of their intimacy had so delighted him and now troubled and alarmed him.
Dinner was set for four. They were all about to go to the small dining room when Tushkevich arrived with a message for Anna from Princess Betsy. Princess Betsy apologized for not coming to say goodbye; she was not well but asked Anna to come to her between half-past six and nine. At this specification of the time, showing that measures had been taken so that she would not meet anyone, Vronsky glanced at Anna; but Anna seemed not to notice it.
‘I regret that between half-past six and nine is precisely when I cannot come,’ she said, smiling slightly.
‘The princess will be very sorry.’
‘I am, too.’
‘You must be going to hear Patti?’42 said Tushkevich.
‘Patti? That gives me an idea. I would go if I could get a box.’
‘I can get one,’ Tushkevich volunteered.
‘I’d be very, very grateful to you,’ said Anna. ‘And would you care to dine with us?’
Vronsky gave a barely noticeable