Anna Karenina - LimpidSoft

PART FIVE CHAPTER 8
Chapter 8
ANNA, in that first period of her emancipation and rapid return to health, felt
herself unpardonably happy and full of the joy of life. The thought of her husband’s
unhappiness did not poison her happiness. On one side that memory was
too awful to be thought of. On the other side her husband’s unhappiness had given
her too much happiness to be regretted. The memory of all that had happened after
her illness: her reconciliation with her husband, its breakdown, the news of Vronsky’s
wound, his visit, the preparations for divorce, the departure from her husband’s
house, the parting from her son–all that seemed to her like a delirious dream,
from which she had waked up alone with Vronsky abroad. The thought of the harm
caused to her husband aroused in her a feeling like repulsion, and akin to what a
drowning man might feel who has shaken off another man clinging to him. That
man did drown. It was an evil action, of course, but it was the sole means of escape,
and better not to brood over these fearful facts.
One consolatory reflection upon her conduct had occurred to her at the first moment
of the final rupture, and when now she recalled all the past, she remembered
that one reflection. “I have inevitably made that man wretched,” she thought; “but
I don’t want to profit by his misery. I too am suffering, and shall suffer; I am losing
what I prized above everything–I am losing my good name and my son. I have done
wrong, and so I don’t want happiness, I don’t want a divorce, and shall suffer from
my shame and the separation from my child.” But, however sincerely Anna had
meant to suffer, she was not suffering. Shame there was not. With the tact of which
both had such a large share, they had succeeded in avoiding Russian ladies abroad,
and so had never placed themselves in a false position, and everywhere they had
met people who pretended that they perfectly understood their position, far better
indeed than they did themselves. Separation from the son she loved–even that did
not cause her anguish in these early days. The baby girl–his child–was so sweet, and
had so won Anna’s heart, since she was all that was left her, that Anna rarely thought
of her son.
The desire for life, waxing stronger with recovered health, was so intense, and
the conditions of life were so new and pleasant, that Anna felt unpardonably happy.
The more she got to know Vronsky, the more she loved him. She loved him for himself,
and for his love for her. Her complete ownership of him was a continual joy
to her. His presence was always sweet to her. All the traits of his character, which
she learned to know better and better, were unutterably dear to her. His appearance,
changed by his civilian dress, was as fascinating to her as though she were some
young girl in love. In everything he said, thought, and did, she saw something particularly
noble and elevated. Her adoration of him alarmed her indeed; she sought
and could not find in him anything not fine. She dared not show him her sense of her
own insignificance beside him. It seemed to her that, knowing this, he might sooner
cease to love her; and she dreaded nothing now so much as losing his love, though
she had no grounds for fearing it. But she could not help being grateful to him for
his attitude to her, and showing that she appreciated it. He, who had in her opinion
such a marked aptitude for a political career, in which he would have been certain to
play a leading part–he had sacrificed his ambition for her sake, and never betrayed
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