Dolly was glad when Anna came in, and by her entrance put a stop
to Annushka's gossip.
Anna had put on a very simple batiste gown. Dolly scrutinized
that simple gown attentively. She knew what it meant, and the
price at which such simplicity was obtained.
"An old friend," said Anna of Annushka.
Anna was not embarrassed now. She was perfectly composed and at
ease. Dolly saw that she had now completely recovered from the
impression her arrival had made on her, and had assumed that
superficial, careless tone which, as it were, closed the door on
that compartment in which her deeper feelings and ideas were
kept.
"Well, Anna, and how is your little girl?" asked Dolly.
"Annie?" (This was what she called her little daughter Anna.)
"Very well. She has got on wonderfully. Would you like to see
her? Come, I'll show her to you. We had a terrible bother," she
began telling her, "over nurses. We had an Italian wet-nurse. A
good creature, but so stupid! We wanted to get rid of her, but
the baby is so used to her that we've gone on keeping her still."
"But how have you managed?..." Dolly was beginning a question
as to what name the little girl would have; but noticing a sudden
frown on Anna's face, she changed the drift of her question.
"How did you manage? have you weaned her yet?"
But Anna had understood.
"You didn't mean to ask that? You meant to ask about her
surname. Yes? That worries Alexey. She has no name--that is,
she's a Karenina," said Anna, dropping her eyelids till nothing
could be seen but the eyelashes meeting. "But we'll talk about
all that later," her face suddenly brightening. "Come, I'll show
you her. _Elle est tres gentille_. She crawls now."
In the nursery the luxury which had impressed Dolly in the whole
house struck her still more. There were little go-carts ordered
from England, and appliances for learning to walk, and a sofa
after the fashion of a billiard table, purposely constructed for
crawling, and swings and baths, all of special pattern, and
modern. They were all English, solid, and of good make, and
obviously very expensive. The room was large, and very light and
lofty.
When they went in, the baby, with nothing on but her little smock,
was sitting in a little elbow chair at the table, having her
dinner of broth, which she was spilling all over her little chest.
The baby was being fed, and the Russian nursery maid was
evidently sharing her meal. Neither the wet-nurse nor the
head nurse were there; they were in the next room, from which
came the sound of their conversation in the queer French which
was their only means of communication.