Anna Karenina - Part 5

One of the first ladies of Petersburg society whom Vronsky saw

was his cousin Betsy.

"At last!" she greeted him joyfully. "And Anna? How glad I am!

Where are you stopping? I can fancy after your delightful

travels you must find our poor Petersburg horrid. I can fancy

your honeymoon in Rome. How about the divorce? Is that all

over?"

Vronsky noticed that Betsy's enthusiasm waned when she learned

that no divorce had as yet taken place.

"People will throw stones at me, I know," she said, "but I shall

come and see Anna; yes, I shall certainly come. You won't be

here long, I suppose?"

And she did certainly come to see Anna the same day, but her tone

was not at all the same as in former days. She unmistakably

prided herself on her courage, and wished Anna to appreciate the

fidelity of her friendship. She only stayed ten minutes, talking

of society gossip, and on leaving she said: "You've never told me when the divorce is to be? Supposing I'm

ready to fling my cap over the mill, other starchy people will

give you the cold shoulder until you're married. And that's so

simple nowadays. _Ça se fait_. So you're going on Friday? Sorry

we shan't see each other again."

From Betsy's tone Vronsky might have grasped what he had to

expect from the world; but he made another effort in his own

family. His mother he did not reckon upon. He knew that his

mother, who had been so enthusiastic over Anna at their first

acquaintance, would have no mercy on her now for having ruined

her son's career. But he had more hope of Varya, his brother's

wife. He fancied she would not throw stones, and would go simply

and directly to see Anna, and would receive her in her own

house.

The day after his arrival Vronsky went to her, and finding her

alone, expressed his wishes directly.

"You know, Alexey," she said after hearing him, "how fond I am of

you, and how ready I am to do anything for you; but I have not

spoken, because I knew I could be of no use to you and to Anna

Arkadyevna," she said, articulating the name "Anna Arkadyevna"

with particular care. "Don't suppose, please, that I judge her.

Never; perhaps in her place I should have done the same. I don't

and can't enter into that," she said, glancing timidly at his

gloomy face. "But one must call things by their names. You want

me to go and see her, to ask her here, and to rehabilitate her in

society; but do understand that I _cannot_ do so. I have daughters

growing up, and I must live in the world for my husband's sake.

Well, I'm ready to come and see Anna Arkadyevna: she will

understand that I can't ask her here, or I should have to do so

in such a way that she would not meet people who look at things

differently; that would offend her. I can't raise her..."