1050 1051
and that everyone was pleased. The episode of the elections served as
a good occasion for a capital dinner. Sviazhsky comically imitated the
tearful discourse of the marshal, and observed, addressing Nevyedovsky,
that his excellency would have to select another more complicated
method of auditing the accounts than tears. Another nobleman jo-
cosely described how footmen in stockings had been ordered for the
marshal’s ball, and how now they would have to be sent back unless
the new marshal would give a ball with footmen in stockings.
Continually during dinner they said of Nevyedovsky: “our mar-
shal,” and “your excellency.”
This was said with the same pleasure with which a bride is called
“Madame” and her husband’s name. Nevyedovsky affected to be not
merely indifferent but scornful of this appellation, but it was obvious
that he was highly delighted, and had to keep a curb on himself not to
betray the triumph which was unsuitable to their new liberal tone.
After dinner several telegrams were sent to people interested in
the result of the election. And Stepan Arkadyevitch, who was in high
good humor, sent Darya Alexandrovna a telegram: “Nevyedovsky
elected by twenty votes. Congratulations. Tell people.” He dictated it
aloud, saying: “We must let them share our rejoicing.” Darya
Alexandrovna, getting the message, simply sighed over the rouble
wasted on it, and understood that it was an after-dinner affair. She
knew Stiva had a weakness after dining for faire jouer le telegraphe.
Everything, together with the excellent dinner and the wine, not
from Russian merchants, but imported direct from abroad, was ex-
tremely dignified, simple, and enjoyable. The party—some twenty—
had been selected by Sviazhsky from among the more active new
liberals, all of the same way of thinking, who were at the same time
clever and well bred. They drank, also half in jest, to the health of the
new marshal of the province, of the governor, of the bank director, and
of “our amiable host.”
Vronsky was satisfied. He had never expected to find so pleasant
a tone in the provinces.
Towards the end of dinner it was still more lively. The governor
asked Vronsky to come to a concert for the benefit of the Servians
which his wife, who was anxious to make his acquaintance, had been
getting up.
“There’ll be a ball, and you’ll see the belle of the province. Worth
seeing, really.”
“Not in my line,” Vronsky answered. He liked that English phrase.
But he smiled, and promised to come.
Before they rose from the table, when all of them were smoking,
Vronsky’s valet went up to him with a letter on a tray.
“From Vozdvizhenskoe by special messenger,” he said with a sig-
nificant expression.
“Astonishing! how like he is to the deputy prosecutor Sventitsky,”
said one of the guests in French of the valet, while Vronsky, frowning,
read the letter.
The letter was from Anna. Before he read the letter, he knew its
contents. Expecting the elections to be over in five days, he had prom-
ised to be back on Friday. Today was Saturday, and he knew that the
letter contained reproaches for not being back at the time fixed. The
letter he had sent the previous evening had probably not reached her
yet.
The letter was what he had expected, but the form of it was unex-
pected, and particularly disagreeable to him. “Annie is very ill, the
doctor says it may be inflammation. I am losing my head all alone.
Princess Varvara is no help, but a hindrance. I expected you the day