Anna Karenina by graf Leo Tolstoy
Chapter 67
1711 words | Chapter 67
The particulars which the princess had learned in regard to Varenka’s
past and her relations with Madame Stahl were as follows:
Madame Stahl, of whom some people said that she had worried her husband
out of his life, while others said it was he who had made her wretched
by his immoral behavior, had always been a woman of weak health and
enthusiastic temperament. When, after her separation from her husband,
she gave birth to her only child, the child had died almost
immediately, and the family of Madame Stahl, knowing her sensibility,
and fearing the news would kill her, had substituted another child, a
baby born the same night and in the same house in Petersburg, the
daughter of the chief cook of the Imperial Household. This was Varenka.
Madame Stahl learned later on that Varenka was not her own child, but
she went on bringing her up, especially as very soon afterwards Varenka
had not a relation of her own living. Madame Stahl had now been living
more than ten years continuously abroad, in the south, never leaving
her couch. And some people said that Madame Stahl had made her social
position as a philanthropic, highly religious woman; other people said
she really was at heart the highly ethical being, living for nothing
but the good of her fellow creatures, which she represented herself to
be. No one knew what her faith was—Catholic, Protestant, or Orthodox.
But one fact was indubitable—she was in amicable relations with the
highest dignitaries of all the churches and sects.
Varenka lived with her all the while abroad, and everyone who knew
Madame Stahl knew and liked Mademoiselle Varenka, as everyone called
her.
Having learned all these facts, the princess found nothing to object to
in her daughter’s intimacy with Varenka, more especially as Varenka’s
breeding and education were of the best—she spoke French and English
extremely well—and what was of the most weight, brought a message from
Madame Stahl expressing her regret that she was prevented by her ill
health from making the acquaintance of the princess.
After getting to know Varenka, Kitty became more and more fascinated by
her friend, and every day she discovered new virtues in her.
The princess, hearing that Varenka had a good voice, asked her to come
and sing to them in the evening.
“Kitty plays, and we have a piano; not a good one, it’s true, but you
will give us so much pleasure,” said the princess with her affected
smile, which Kitty disliked particularly just then, because she noticed
that Varenka had no inclination to sing. Varenka came, however, in the
evening and brought a roll of music with her. The princess had invited
Marya Yevgenyevna and her daughter and the colonel.
Varenka seemed quite unaffected by there being persons present she did
not know, and she went directly to the piano. She could not accompany
herself, but she could sing music at sight very well. Kitty, who played
well, accompanied her.
“You have an extraordinary talent,” the princess said to her after
Varenka had sung the first song extremely well.
Marya Yevgenyevna and her daughter expressed their thanks and
admiration.
“Look,” said the colonel, looking out of the window, “what an audience
has collected to listen to you.” There actually was quite a
considerable crowd under the windows.
“I am very glad it gives you pleasure,” Varenka answered simply.
Kitty looked with pride at her friend. She was enchanted by her talent,
and her voice, and her face, but most of all by her manner, by the way
Varenka obviously thought nothing of her singing and was quite unmoved
by their praises. She seemed only to be asking: “Am I to sing again, or
is that enough?”
“If it had been I,” thought Kitty, “how proud I should have been! How
delighted I should have been to see that crowd under the windows! But
she’s utterly unmoved by it. Her only motive is to avoid refusing and
to please mamma. What is there in her? What is it gives her the power
to look down on everything, to be calm independently of everything? How
I should like to know it and to learn it of her!” thought Kitty, gazing
into her serene face. The princess asked Varenka to sing again, and
Varenka sang another song, also smoothly, distinctly, and well,
standing erect at the piano and beating time on it with her thin,
dark-skinned hand.
The next song in the book was an Italian one. Kitty played the opening
bars, and looked round at Varenka.
“Let’s skip that,” said Varenka, flushing a little. Kitty let her eyes
rest on Varenka’s face, with a look of dismay and inquiry.
“Very well, the next one,” she said hurriedly, turning over the pages,
and at once feeling that there was something connected with the song.
“No,” answered Varenka with a smile, laying her hand on the music, “no,
let’s have that one.” And she sang it just as quietly, as coolly, and
as well as the others.
When she had finished, they all thanked her again, and went off to tea.
Kitty and Varenka went out into the little garden that adjoined the
house.
“Am I right, that you have some reminiscences connected with that
song?” said Kitty. “Don’t tell me,” she added hastily, “only say if I’m
right.”
“No, why not? I’ll tell you simply,” said Varenka, and, without waiting
for a reply, she went on: “Yes, it brings up memories, once painful
ones. I cared for someone once, and I used to sing him that song.”
Kitty with big, wide-open eyes gazed silently, sympathetically at
Varenka.
“I cared for him, and he cared for me; but his mother did not wish it,
and he married another girl. He’s living now not far from us, and I see
him sometimes. You didn’t think I had a love story too,” she said, and
there was a faint gleam in her handsome face of that fire which Kitty
felt must once have glowed all over her.
“I didn’t think so? Why, if I were a man, I could never care for anyone
else after knowing you. Only I can’t understand how he could, to please
his mother, forget you and make you unhappy; he had no heart.”
“Oh, no, he’s a very good man, and I’m not unhappy; quite the contrary,
I’m very happy. Well, so we shan’t be singing any more now,” she added,
turning towards the house.
“How good you are! how good you are!” cried Kitty, and stopping her,
she kissed her. “If I could only be even a little like you!”
“Why should you be like anyone? You’re nice as you are,” said Varenka,
smiling her gentle, weary smile.
“No, I’m not nice at all. Come, tell me.... Stop a minute, let’s sit
down,” said Kitty, making her sit down again beside her. “Tell me,
isn’t it humiliating to think that a man has disdained your love, that
he hasn’t cared for it?...”
“But he didn’t disdain it; I believe he cared for me, but he was a
dutiful son....”
“Yes, but if it hadn’t been on account of his mother, if it had been
his own doing?...” said Kitty, feeling she was giving away her secret,
and that her face, burning with the flush of shame, had betrayed her
already.
“In that case he would have done wrong, and I should not have regretted
him,” answered Varenka, evidently realizing that they were now talking
not of her, but of Kitty.
“But the humiliation,” said Kitty, “the humiliation one can never
forget, can never forget,” she said, remembering her look at the last
ball during the pause in the music.
“Where is the humiliation? Why, you did nothing wrong?”
“Worse than wrong—shameful.”
Varenka shook her head and laid her hand on Kitty’s hand.
“Why, what is there shameful?” she said. “You didn’t tell a man, who
didn’t care for you, that you loved him, did you?”
“Of course not; I never said a word, but he knew it. No, no, there are
looks, there are ways; I can’t forget it, if I live a hundred years.”
“Why so? I don’t understand. The whole point is whether you love him
now or not,” said Varenka, who called everything by its name.
“I hate him; I can’t forgive myself.”
“Why, what for?”
“The shame, the humiliation!”
“Oh! if everyone were as sensitive as you are!” said Varenka. “There
isn’t a girl who hasn’t been through the same. And it’s all so
unimportant.”
“Why, what is important?” said Kitty, looking into her face with
inquisitive wonder.
“Oh, there’s so much that’s important,” said Varenka, smiling.
“Why, what?”
“Oh, so much that’s more important,” answered Varenka, not knowing what
to say. But at that instant they heard the princess’s voice from the
window. “Kitty, it’s cold! Either get a shawl, or come indoors.”
“It really is time to go in!” said Varenka, getting up. “I have to go
on to Madame Berthe’s; she asked me to.”
Kitty held her by the hand, and with passionate curiosity and entreaty
her eyes asked her: “What is it, what is this of such importance that
gives you such tranquillity? You know, tell me!” But Varenka did not
even know what Kitty’s eyes were asking her. She merely thought that
she had to go to see Madame Berthe too that evening, and to make haste
home in time for _maman’s_ tea at twelve o’clock. She went indoors,
collected her music, and saying good-bye to everyone, was about to go.
“Allow me to see you home,” said the colonel.
“Yes, how can you go alone at night like this?” chimed in the princess.
“Anyway, I’ll send Parasha.”
Kitty saw that Varenka could hardly restrain a smile at the idea that
she needed an escort.
“No, I always go about alone and nothing ever happens to me,” she said,
taking her hat. And kissing Kitty once more, without saying what was
important, she stepped out courageously with the music under her arm
and vanished into the twilight of the summer night, bearing away with
her her secret of what was important and what gave her the calm and
dignity so much to be envied.
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