Steps were heard at the door, and Princess Betsy, knowing it was
Madame Karenina, glanced at Vronsky. He was looking towards the
door, and his face wore a strange new expression. Joyfully,
intently, and at the same time timidly, he gazed at the
approaching figure, and slowly he rose to his feet. Anna walked
into the drawing room. Holding herself extremely erect, as
always, looking straight before her, and moving with her swift,
resolute, and light step, that distinguished her from all other
society women, she crossed the short space to her hostess, shook
hands with her, smiled, and with the same smile looked around at
Vronsky. Vronsky bowed low and pushed a chair up for her.
She acknowledged this only by a slight nod, flushed a little, and
frowned. But immediately, while rapidly greeting her
acquaintances, and shaking the hands proffered to her, she
addressed Princess Betsy: "I have been at Countess Lidia's, and meant to have come here
earlier, but I stayed on. Sir John was there. He's very
interesting."
"Oh, that's this missionary?"
"Yes; he told us about the life in India, most interesting
things."
The conversation, interrupted by her coming in, flickered up
again like the light of a lamp being blown out.
"Sir John! Yes, Sir John; I've seen him. He speaks well. The
Vlassieva girl's quite in love with him."
"And is it true the younger Vlassieva girl's to marry Topov?"
"Yes, they say it's quite a settled thing."
"I wonder at the parents! They say it's a marriage for love."
"For love? What antediluvian notions you have! Can one talk of
love in these days?" said the ambassador's wife.
"What's to be done? It's a foolish old fashion that's kept up
still," said Vronsky.
"So much the worse for those who keep up the fashion. The only
happy marriages I know are marriages of prudence."
"Yes, but then how often the happiness of these prudent marriages
flies away like dust just because that passion turns up that they
have refused to recognize," said Vronsky.
"But by marriages of prudence we mean those in which both parties
have sown their wild oats already. That's like scarlatina--one
has to go through it and get it over."
"Then they ought to find out how to vaccinate for love, like
smallpox."
"I was in love in my young days with a deacon," said the Princess
Myakaya. "I don't know that it did me any good."
"No; I imagine, joking apart, that to know love, one must make
mistakes and then correct them," said Princess Betsy.