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of a boy of eight years old. In the elasticity of her movements, the
freshness and the unflagging eagerness which persisted in her face,
and broke out in her smile and her glance, she would rather have
passed for a girl of twenty, had it not been for a serious and at times
mournful look in her eyes, which struck and attracted Kitty. Kitty felt
that Anna was perfectly simple and was concealing nothing, but that
she had another higher world of interests inaccessible to her, complex
and poetic.
After dinner, when Dolly went away to her own room, Anna rose
quickly and went up to her brother, who was just lighting a cigar.
“Stiva,” she said to him, winking gaily, crossing him and glancing
towards the door, “go, and God help you.”
He threw down the cigar, understanding her, and departed through
the doorway.
When Stepan Arkadyevitch had disappeared, she went back to
the sofa where she had been sitting, surrounded by the children. Ei-
ther because the children saw that their mother was fond of this aunt,
or that they felt a special charm in her themselves, the two elder ones,
and the younger following their lead, as children so often do, had clung
about their new aunt since before dinner, and would not leave her side.
And it had become a sort of game among them to sit a close as possible
to their aunt, to touch her, hold her little hand, kiss it, play with her ring,
or even touch the flounce of her skirt.
“Come, come, as we were sitting before,” said Anna Arkadyevna,
sitting down in her place.
And again Grisha poked his little face under her arm, and nestled
with his head on her gown, beaming with pride and happiness.
“And when is your next ball?” she asked Kitty.
“Next week, and a splendid ball. One of those balls where one
always enjoys oneself.”
“Why, are there balls where one always enjoys oneself?” Anna
said, with tender irony.
“It’s strange, but there are. At the Bobrishtchevs’ one always en-
joys oneself, and at the Nikitins’ too, while at the Mezhkovs’ it’s always
dull. Haven’t you noticed it?”
“No, my dear, for me there are no balls now where one enjoys
oneself,” said Anna, and Kitty detected in her eyes that mysterious
world which was not open to her. “For me there are some less dull and
tiresome.”
“How can YOU be dull at a ball?”
“Why should not _I_ be dull at a ball?” inquired Anna.
Kitty perceived that Anna knew what answer would follow.
“Because you always look nicer than anyone.”
Anna had the faculty of blushing. She blushed a little, and said:
“In the first place it’s never so; and secondly, if it were, what differ-
ence would it make to me?”
“Are you coming to this ball?” asked Kitty.
“I imagine it won’t be possible to avoid going. Here, take it,” she
said to Tanya, who was bulling the loosely-fitting ring off her white,
slender-tipped finger.
“I shall be so glad if you go. I should so like to see you at a ball.”
“Anyway, if I do go, I shall comfort myself with the thought that it’s
a pleasure to you...Grisha, don’t pull my hair. It’s untidy enough with-
out that,” she said, putting up a straying lock, which Grisha had been
playing with.
“I imagine you at the ball in lilac.”
“And why in lilac precisely?” asked Anna, smiling. “Now, children,
run along, run along. Do you hear? Miss Hoole is calling you to tea,”