724 725
Chapter 5.
In the church there was all Moscow, all the friends and relations;
and during the ceremony of plighting troth, in the brilliantly lighted
church, there was an incessant flow of discreetly subdued talk in the
circle of gaily dressed women and girls, and men in white ties, frockcoats,
and uniforms. The talk was principally kept up by the men, while the
women were absorbed in watching every detail of the ceremony, which
always means so much to them.
In the little group nearest to the bride were her two sisters: Dolly,
and the other one, the self-possessed beauty, Madame Lvova, who
had just arrived from abroad.
“Why is it Marie’s in lilac, as bad as black, at a wedding?” said
Madame Korsunskaya.
“With her complexion, it’s the one salvation,” responded Madame
Trubetskaya. “I wonder why they had the wedding in the evening? It’s
like shop-people...”
“So much prettier. I was married in the evening too...” answered
Madame Korsunskaya, and she sighed, remembering how charming
she had been that day, and how absurdly in love her husband was, and
how different it all was now.
“They say if anyone’s best man more than ten times, he’ll never be
married. I wanted to be for the tenth time, but the post was taken,”
said Count Siniavin to the pretty Princess Tcharskaya, who had de-
signs on him.
Princess Tcharskaya only answered with a smile. She looked at
Kitty, thinking how and when she would stand with Count Siniavin in
Kitty’s place, and how she would remind him then of his joke today.
Shtcherbatsky told the old maid of honor, Madame Nikolaeva, that
he meant to put the crown on Kitty’s chignon for luck.
“She ought not to have worn a chignon,” answered Madame
Nikolaeva, who had long ago made up her mind that if the elderly
widower she was angling for married her, the wedding should be of the
simplest. “I don’t like such grandeur.”
Sergey Ivanovitch was talking to Darya Dmitrievna, jestingly as-
suring her that the custom of going away after the wedding was be-
coming common because newly married people always felt a little
ashamed of themselves.
“Your brother may feel proud of himself. She’s a marvel of sweet-
ness. I believe you’re envious.”
“Oh, I’ve got over that, Darya Dmitrievna,” he answered, and a
melancholy and serious expression suddenly came over his face.
Stepan Arkadyevitch was telling his sister-in-law his joke about
divorce.
“The wreath wants setting straight,” she answered, not hearing
him.
“What a pity she’s lost her looks so,” Countess Nordston said to
Madame Lvova. “Still he’s not worth her little finger, is he?”
“Oh, I like him so—not because he’s my future beau-frere,” an-
swered Madame Lvova. “And how well he’s behaving! It’s so difficult,
too, to look well in such a position, not to be ridiculous. And he’s not
ridiculous, and not affected; one can see he’s moved.”