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exacted conformity with its decrees and change in his attitude to his
wife, been presented to him with such distinctness as that day. He saw
clearly that all the world and his wife expected of him something, but
what exactly, he could not make out. He felt that this was rousing in his
soul a feeling of anger destructive of his peace of mind and of all the
good of his achievement. He believed that for Anna herself it would
be better to break off all relations with Vronsky; but if they all thought
this out of the question, he was even ready to allow these relations to
be renewed, so long as the children were not disgraced, and he was not
deprived of them nor forced to change his position. Bad as this might
be, it was anyway better than a rupture, which would put her in a
hopeless and shameful position, and deprive him of everything he
cared for. But he felt helpless; he knew beforehand that every one was
against him, and that he would not be allowed to do what seemed to
him now so natural and right, but would be forced to do what was
wrong, though it seemed the proper thing to them.
Chapter 21.
Before Betsy had time to walk out of the drawing-room, she was
met in the doorway by Stepan Arkadyevitch, who had just come from
Yeliseev’s, where a consignment of fresh oysters had been received.
“Ah! princess! what a delightful meeting!” he began. “I’ve been to
see you.”
“A meeting for one minute, for I’m going,” said Betsy, smiling and
putting on her glove.
“Don’t put on your glove yet, princess; let me kiss your hand. There’s
nothing I’m so thankful to the revival of the old fashions for as the
kissing the hand.” He kissed Betsy’s hand. “When shall we see each
other?”
“You don’t deserve it,” answered Betsy, smiling.
“Oh, yes, I deserve a great deal, for I’ve become a most serious
person. I don’t only manage my own affairs, but other people’s too,” he
said with a significant expression.
“Oh, I’m so glad!” answered Betsy, at once understanding that he
was speaking of Anna. And going back into the drawing room, they
stood in a corner. “He’s killing her,” said Betsy in a whisper full of
meaning. “It’s impossible, impossible...”
“I’m so glad you think so,” said Stepan Arkadyevitch, shaking his
head with a serious and sympathetically distressed expression, “that’s