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<h1>ANNA KARENINA</h1>
<h2>by Leo Tolstoy</h2>
<h4>Translated by Constance Garnett</h4>
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<p><SPAN name="chap04"></SPAN></p> <h2>BOOK FOUR</h2>
<h3>Chapter 1</h3>
<p>The Karenins, husband and wife, continued living in the same house, met every
day, but were complete strangers to one another. Alexey Alexandrovitch made it
a rule to see his wife every day, so that the servants might have no grounds
for suppositions, but avoided dining at home. Vronsky was never at Alexey
Alexandrovitch’s house, but Anna saw him away from home, and her husband
was aware of it.</p>
<p>The position was one of misery for all three; and not one of them would have
been equal to enduring this position for a single day, if it had not been for
the expectation that it would change, that it was merely a temporary painful
ordeal which would pass over. Alexey Alexandrovitch hoped that this passion
would pass, as everything does pass, that everyone would forget about it, and
his name would remain unsullied. Anna, on whom the position depended, and for
whom it was more miserable than for anyone, endured it because she not merely
hoped, but firmly believed, that it would all very soon be settled and come
right. She had not the least idea what would settle the position, but she
firmly believed that something would very soon turn up now. Vronsky, against
his own will or wishes, followed her lead, hoped too that something, apart from
his own action, would be sure to solve all difficulties.</p>
<p>In the middle of the winter Vronsky spent a very tiresome week. A foreign
prince, who had come on a visit to Petersburg, was put under his charge, and he
had to show him the sights worth seeing. Vronsky was of distinguished
appearance; he possessed, moreover, the art of behaving with respectful
dignity, and was used to having to do with such grand personages—that was
how he came to be put in charge of the prince. But he felt his duties very
irksome. The prince was anxious to miss nothing of which he would be asked at
home, had he seen that in Russia? And on his own account he was anxious to
enjoy to the utmost all Russian forms of amusement. Vronsky was obliged to be
his guide in satisfying both these inclinations. The mornings they spent
driving to look at places of interest; the evenings they passed enjoying the
national entertainments. The prince rejoiced in health exceptional even among
princes. By gymnastics and careful attention to his health he had brought
himself to such a point that in spite of his excess in pleasure he looked as
fresh as a big glossy green Dutch cucumber. The prince had traveled a great
deal, and considered one of the chief advantages of modern facilities of
communication was the accessibility of the pleasures of all nations.</p>
<p>He had been in Spain, and there had indulged in serenades and had made friends
with a Spanish girl who played the mandolin. In Switzerland he had killed
chamois. In England he had galloped in a red coat over hedges and killed two
hundred pheasants for a bet. In Turkey he had got into a harem; in India he had
hunted on an elephant, and now in Russia he wished to taste all the specially
Russian forms of pleasure.</p>
<p>Vronsky, who was, as it were, chief master of the ceremonies to him, was at
great pains to arrange all the Russian amusements suggested by various persons
to the prince. They had race horses, and Russian pancakes and bear hunts and
three-horse sledges, and gypsies and drinking feasts, with the Russian
accompaniment of broken crockery. And the prince with surprising ease fell in
with the Russian spirit, smashed trays full of crockery, sat with a gypsy girl
on his knee, and seemed to be asking—what more, and does the whole
Russian spirit consist in just this?</p>
<p>In reality, of all the Russian entertainments the prince liked best French
actresses and ballet dancers and white-seal champagne. Vronsky was used to
princes, but, either because he had himself changed of late, or that he was in
too close proximity to the prince, that week seemed fearfully wearisome to him.
The whole of that week he experienced a sensation such as a man might have set
in charge of a dangerous madman, afraid of the madman, and at the same time,
from being with him, fearing for his own reason. Vronsky was continually
conscious of the necessity of never for a second relaxing the tone of stern
official respectfulness, that he might not himself be insulted. The
prince’s manner of treating the very people who, to Vronsky’s
surprise, were ready to descend to any depths to provide him with Russian
amusements, was contemptuous. His criticisms of Russian women, whom he wished
to study, more than once made Vronsky crimson with indignation. The chief
reason why the prince was so particularly disagreeable to Vronsky was that he
could not help seeing himself in him. And what he saw in this mirror did not
gratify his self-esteem. He was a very stupid and very self-satisfied and very
healthy and very well-washed man, and nothing else. He was a
gentleman—that was true, and Vronsky could not deny it. He was equable
and not cringing with his superiors, was free and ingratiating in his behavior
with his equals, and was contemptuously indulgent with his inferiors. Vronsky
was himself the same, and regarded it as a great merit to be so. But for this
prince he was an inferior, and his contemptuous and indulgent attitude to him
revolted him.</p>
<p>“Brainless beef! can I be like that?” he thought.</p>
<p>Be that as it might, when, on the seventh day, he parted from the prince, who
was starting for Moscow, and received his thanks, he was happy to be rid of his
uncomfortable position and the unpleasant reflection of himself. He said
good-bye to him at the station on their return from a bear hunt, at which they
had had a display of Russian prowess kept up all night.</p>
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