578 579
Chapter 5.
The waiting-room of the celebrated Petersburg lawyer was full
when Alexey Alexandrovitch entered it. Three ladies—an old lady, a
young lady, and a merchant’s wife—and three gentlemen— one a
German banker with a ring on his finger, the second a merchant with a
beard, and the third a wrathful-looking government clerk in official
uniform, with a cross on his neck— had obviously been waiting a long
while already. Two clerks were writing at tables with scratching pens.
The appurtenances of the writing-tables, about which Alexey
Alexandrovitch was himself very fastidious, were exceptionally good.
He could not help observing this. One of the clerks, without getting
up, turned wrathfully to Alexey Alexandrovitch, half closing his eyes.
“What are you wanting?”
He replied that he had to see the lawyer on some business.
“He is engaged,” the clerk responded severely, and he pointed with
his pen at the persons waiting, and went on writing.
“Can’t he spare time to see me?” said Alexey Alexandrovitch.
“He has not time free; he is always busy. Kindly wait your turn.”
“Then I must trouble you to give him my card,” Alexey
Alexandrovitch said with dignity, seeing the impossibility of preserv-
ing his incognito.
The clerk took the card and, obviously not approving of what he
read on it, went to the door.
Alexey Alexandrovitch was in principle in favor of the publicity of
legal proceedings, though for some higher official considerations he
disliked the application of the principle in Russia, and disapproved of
it, as far as he could disapprove of anything instituted by authority of
the Emperor. His whole life had been spent in administrative work,
and consequently, when he did not approve of anything, his disap-
proval was softened by the recognition of the inevitability of mistakes
and the possibility of reform in every department. In the new public
law courts he disliked the restrictions laid on the lawyers conducting
cases. But till then he had had nothing to do with the law courts, and so
had disapproved of their publicity simply in theory; now his disappro-
bation was strengthened by the unpleasant impression made on him
in the lawyer’s waiting room.
“Coming immediately,” said the clerk; and two minutes later there
did actually appear in the doorway the large figure of an old solicitor
who had been consulting with the lawyer himself.
The lawyer was a little, squat, bald man, with a dark, reddish beard,
light-colored long eyebrows, and an overhanging brow. He was attired
as though for a wedding, from his cravat to his double watch-chain and
varnished boots. His face was clever and manly, but his dress was
dandified and in bad taste.
“Pray walk in,” said the lawyer, addressing Alexey Alexandrovitch;
and, gloomily ushering Karenin in before him, he closed the door.
“Won’t you sit down?” He indicated an armchair at a writing table
covered with papers. He sat down himself, and, rubbing his little
hands with short fingers covered with white hairs, he bent his head on
one side. But as soon as he was settled in this position a moth flew over
the table. The lawyer, with a swiftness that could never have been