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Madame Karenina, however, did not wait for her brother, but catch-
ing sight of him she stepped out with her light, resolute step. And as
soon as her brother had reached her, with a gesture that struck Vronsky
by its decision and its grace, she flung her left arm around his neck,
drew him rapidly to her, and kissed him warmly. Vronsky gazed, never
taking his eyes from her, and smiled, he could not have said why. But
recollecting that his mother was waiting for him, he went back again
into the carriage.
“She’s very sweet, isn’t she?” said the countess of Madame Karenina.
“Her husband put her with me, and I was delighted to have her. We’ve
been talking all the way. And so you, I hear...vous filez le parfait amour.
Tant mieux, mon cher, tant mieux.”
“I don’t know what you are referring to, maman,” he answered
coldly. “Come, maman, let us go.”
Madame Karenina entered the carriage again to say good-bye to
the countess.
“Well, countess, you have met your son, and I my brother,” she
said. “And all my gossip is exhausted. I should have nothing more to
tell you.”
“Oh, no,” said the countess, taking her hand. “I could go all around
the world with you and never be dull. You are one of those delightful
women in whose company it’s sweet to be silent as well as to talk. Now
please don’t fret over your son; you can’t expect never to be parted.”
Madame Karenina stood quite still, holding herself very erect, and
her eyes were smiling.
“Anna Arkadyevna,” the countess said in explanation to her son,
“has a little son eight years old, I believe, and she has never been
parted from him before, and she keeps fretting over leaving him.”
“Yes, the countess and I have been talking all the time, I of my son
and she of hers,” said Madame Karenina, and again a smile lighted up
her face, a caressing smile intended for him.
“I am afraid that you must have been dreadfully bored,” he said,
promptly catching the ball of coquetry she had flung him. But appar-
ently she did not care to pursue the conversation in that strain, and she
turned to the old countess.
“Thank you so much. The time has passed so quickly. Good-bye,
countess.”
“Good-bye, my love,” answered the countess. “Let me have a kiss
of your pretty face. I speak plainly, at my age, and I tell you simply that
I’ve lost my heart to you.”
Stereotyped as the phrase was, Madame Karenina obviously be-
lieved it and was delighted by it. She flushed, bent down slightly, and
put her cheek to the countess’s lips, drew herself up again, and with the
same smile fluttering between her lips and her eyes, she gave her hand
to Vronsky. He pressed the little hand she gave him, and was de-
lighted, as though at something special, by the energetic squeeze with
which she freely and vigorously shook his hand. She went out with the
rapid step which bore her rather fully-developed figure with such
strange lightness.
“Very charming,” said the countess.
That was just what her son was thinking. His eyes followed her till
her graceful figure was out of sight, and then the smile remained on his
face. He saw out of the window how she went up to her brother, put
her arm in his, and began telling him something eagerly, obviously
something that had nothing to do with him, Vronsky, and at that he felt
annoyed.
“Well, maman, are you perfectly well?” he repeated, turning to his
mother.