Anna Karenina - LimpidSoft

PART ONE CHAPTER 33
Chapter 33
ALEXEY Alexandrovitch came back from the meeting of the ministers at four
o’clock, but as often happened, he had not time to come in to her. He went
into his study to see the people waiting for him with petitions, and to sign some
papers brought him by his chief secretary. At dinner time (there were always a
few people dining with the Karenins) there arrived an old lady, a cousin of Alexey
Alexandrovitch, the chief secretary of the department and his wife, and a young man
who had been recommended to Alexey Alexandrovitch for the service. Anna went
into the drawing room to receive these guests. Precisely at five o’clock, before the
bronze Peter the First clock had struck the fifth stroke, Alexey Alexandrovitch came
in, wearing a white tie and evening coat with two stars, as he had to go out directly
after dinner. Every minute of Alexey Alexandrovitch’s life was portioned out and
occupied. And to make time to get through all that lay before him every day, he
adhered to the strictest punctuality. “Unhasting and unresting,” was his motto. He
came into the dining hall, greeted everyone, and hurriedly sat down, smiling to his
wife.
“Yes, my solitude is over. You wouldn’t believe how uncomfortable” (he laid stress
on the word uncomfortable) “it is to dine alone.”
At dinner he talked a little to his wife about Moscow matters, and, with a sarcastic
smile, asked her after Stepan Arkadyevitch; but the conversation was for the
most part general, dealing with Petersburg official and public news. After dinner he
spent half an hour with his guests, and again, with a smile, pressed his wife’s hand,
withdrew, and drove off to the council. Anna did not go out that evening either to
the Princess Betsy Tverskaya, who, hearing of her return, had invited her, nor to the
theater, where she had a box for that evening. She did not go out principally because
the dress she had reckoned upon was not ready. Altogether, Anna, on turning,
after the departure of her guests, to the consideration of her attire, was very much
annoyed. She was generally a mistress of the art of dressing well without great expense,
and before leaving Moscow she had given her dressmaker three dresses to
transform. The dresses had to be altered so that they could not be recognized, and
they ought to have been ready three days before. It appeared that two dresses had
not been done at all, while the other one had not been altered as Anna had intended.
The dressmaker came to explain, declaring that it would be better as she had done
it, and Anna was so furious that she felt ashamed when she thought of it afterwards.
To regain her serenity completely she went into the nursery, and spent the whole
evening with her son, put him to bed herself, signed him with the cross, and tucked
him up. She was glad she had not gone out anywhere, and had spent the evening so
well. She felt so light-hearted and serene, she saw so clearly that all that had seemed
to her so important on her railway journey was only one of the common trivial incidents
of fashionable life, and that she had no reason to feel ashamed before anyone
else or before herself. Anna sat down at the hearth with an English novel and waited
for her husband. Exactly at half-past nine she heard his ring, and he came into the
room.
“Here you are at last!” she observed, holding out her hand to him.
He kissed her hand and sat down beside her.
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