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Chapter 15.
At the end of the evening Kitty told her mother of her conversation
with Levin, and in spite of all the pity she felt for Levin, she was glad
at the thought that she had received an OFFER. She had no doubt
that she had acted rightly. But after she had gone to bed, for a long
while she could not sleep. One impression pursued her relentlessly. It
was Levin’s face, with his scowling brows, and his kind eyes looking out
in dark dejection below them, as he stood listening to her father, and
glancing at her and at Vronsky. And she felt so sorry for him that tears
came into her eyes. But immediately she thought of the man for whom
she had given him up. She vividly recalled his manly, resolute face, his
noble self-possession, and the good nature conspicuous in everything
towards everyone. She remembered the love for her of the man she
loved, and once more all was gladness in her soul, and she lay on the
pillow, smiling with happiness. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry; but what could I
do? It’s not my fault,” she said to herself; but an inner voice told her
something else. Whether she felt remorse at having won Levin’s love,
or at having refused him, she did not know. But her happiness was
poisoned by doubts. “Lord, have pity on us; Lord, have pity on us;
Lord, have pity on us!” she repeated to herself, till she fell asleep.
Meanwhile there took place below, in the prince’s little library, one
of the scenes so often repeated between the parents on account of
their favorite daughter.
“What? I’ll tell you what!” shouted the prince, waving his arms,
and at once wrapping his squirrel-lined dressing-gown round him again.
“That you’ve no pride, no dignity; that you’re disgracing, ruining your
daughter by this vulgar, stupid match-making!”
“But, really, for mercy’s sake, prince, what have I done?” said the
princess, almost crying.
She, pleased and happy after her conversation with her daughter,
had gone to the prince to say good-night as usual, and though she had
no intention of telling him of Levin’s offer and Kitty’s refusal, still she
hinted to her husband that she fancied things were practically settled
with Vronsky, and that he would declare himself so soon as his mother
arrived. And thereupon, at those words, the prince had all at once
flown into a passion, and began to use unseemly language.
“What have you done? I’ll tell you what. First of all, you’re trying
to catch an eligible gentleman, and all Moscow will be talking of it, and
with good reason. If you have evening parties, invite everyone, don’t
pick out the possible suitors. Invite all the young bucks. Engage a
piano player, and let them dance, and not as you do things nowadays,
hunting up good matches. It makes me sick, sick to see it, and you’ve
gone on till you’ve turned the poor wench’s head. Levin’s a thousand
times the better man. As for this little Petersburg swell, they’re turned
out by machinery, all on one pattern, and all precious rubbish. But if he
were a prince of the blood, my daughter need not run after anyone.”
“But what have I done?”
“Why, you’ve...” The prince was crying wrathfully.
“I know if one were to listen to you,” interrupted the princess, “we
should never marry our daughter. If it’s to be so, we’d better go into the
country.”