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for long. I should not say that to your brother. He is a dear child, just like this host of ours: hear him!’ he added, listening to the cries of ‘Hurrah!’ ‘And he is happy, but that would not satisfy you.’

      ‘I do not say that it would.’

      ‘And that is not all: men like you are wanted.’

      ‘By whom?’

      ‘By whom? By Society; by Russia. Russia is in need of men, needs a Party — without it everything is going and will go to the dogs.’

      ‘What do you mean? Bertenev’s Party, in opposition to the Russian Communists?’

      ‘No,’ said Serpukhovskoy, frowning with vexation at being suspected of such nonsense. ‘Tout ça est une blague. [All that is humbug.] It always has existed and always will. There are no Communists whatever. But scheming people always have invented and always will invent some harmful and dangerous Party. That’s an old trick. What is wanted is an influential Party of independent men like you and me.’

      ‘But why — ’ Vronsky named several influential men, ‘why are not they independent men?’

      ‘Only because they have not, or had not by birth, an independent position — had no name, were not born as near the sun as we were. They can be bought by money or by affability, and must invent a theory to keep their positions. And they bring forward some idea, some theory (in which they themselves do not believe and which does harm) merely as a means of procuring government quarters and a salary. Cela n’est pas plus fin que ça [That’s all there is in it], if you happen to see their cards. Maybe I am worse and more foolish than they, though I do not see why I am worse than they. Anyhow you and I have one great advantage: we cannot be bought so easily. And such men are more needed than ever.’

      Vronsky listened attentively, but it was not so much the meaning of Serpukhovskoy’s words that interested him as his outlook on these questions, for Serpukhovskoy was already dreaming of a struggle with the powers-that-be and already had sympathies and antipathies in that sphere, whereas Vronsky’s interest in the service was limited to his own squadron. Vronsky realized, too, how powerful Serpukhovskoy might become by his undoubted capacity for reflection and comprehension, and by his intellect and gift of speech, so seldom met with in the Society in which he lived. And, ashamed as he was of the fact, he felt jealous.

      ‘All the same I lack the most necessary thing,’ he replied. ‘I lack the wish for power. I had it once, but it is gone.’

      ‘Pardon me, that is not true,’ said Serpukhovskoy with a smile.

      ‘Yes, it is, it is true … at present — to be quite frank,’ added Vronsky.

      ‘Yes, it is true at present — that is another matter, but the present will not last for ever.’

      ‘Perhaps,’ said Vronsky.

      ‘You say “perhaps”,’ continued Serpukhovskoy as if he had guessed Vronsky’s thoughts; ‘but I say, certainly. That is why I wanted to see you. You acted rightly: I quite understand it. But you must not persevere in it. I only ask you to give me carte blanche. I am not patronizing you… . Though why should I not patronize you? You have so often patronized me! I hope our friendship is above that sort of thing! Yes,’ he said with a smile tender as a woman’s, ‘Give me carte blanche, leave the regiment, and I will draw you on imperceptibly.’

      ‘But try to understand that I do want nothing except that everything should remain as it is,’ said Vronsky.

      Serpukhovskoy rose and said, as he stood before Vronsky, ‘You say, “that all should remain as it is”! I know what you mean, but hear me! We are both of the same age; it may be that in number you have known more women than I have,’ the smile of Serpukhovskoy’s face and his gesture showed that Vronsky need have no fear, and that he would touch the tender spot gently and carefully. ‘But I am married, and believe me, that “knowing only your wife, whom you love” — as somebody once said — “you can understand all women better than if you knew thousands”.’

      ‘We will come in a minute,’ Vronsky shouted to an officer who looked in, having been sent by the C.O. to call them.

      Vronsky was anxious now to hear the rest of what Serpukhovskoy had to say.

      ‘Here is my opinion. Women are the chief stumbling-block in a man’s career. It is difficult to love a woman and do anything else. To achieve it and to love in comfort and unhampered, the only way is to marry! How am I to put to you what I think?’ and Serpukhovskoy, who was fond of similes, went on: ‘Wait a bit! Wait a bit… . Yes, if you had to carry a load and use your hands at the same time, it would be possible only if the load were strapped on your back: and that is marriage. I found that out when I married. I suddenly had my hands free. But if you drag that load without marriage, your hands are so full that you can do nothing else. Look at Mazankov, at Krupov! They have ruined their careers because of women.’

      ‘But what women!’ said Vronsky, recalling the Frenchwoman and the actress with whom these men were entangled.

      ‘So much the worse! The more assured the position of the woman in the world, the worse it is! That is not like merely dragging a load with one’s hands, it is like wrenching it from some one else.’

      ‘You have never loved,’ said Vronsky softly, with his eyes looking straight before him and with Anna in his thoughts.

      ‘Perhaps not! But another point: women are always more materialistic than men. Men make of love something enormous, but women are always terre-à-terre [down to earth].’

      ‘Coming, coming!’ he said, turning to a footman who had entered. But the footman had not come to call them, as Serpukhovskoy thought. He brought Vronsky a note.

      ‘Your man brought this from the Princess Tverskaya.’

      Vronsky opened the note and his face flushed. ‘My head has begun aching,’ he said. ‘I shall go home.’

      ‘Well, then, goodbye! Do you give me carte blanche?’

      ‘We’ll talk it over another time. I will look you up in Petersburg.’

      Chapter 22

       Table of Contents

      IT was already past five, and in order not to be late and not to use his own horses, which were known to everybody, Vronsky took Yashvin’s hired carriage and told the coachman to drive as fast as possible. The old four-seated hired vehicle was very roomy; he sat down in a corner, put his legs on the opposite seat, and began to think. A vague sense of the accomplished cleaning up of his affairs, a vague memory of Serpukhovskoy’s friendship for him, and the flattering thought that the latter considered him a necessary man, and above all the anticipation of the coming meeting, merged into one general feeling of joyful vitality. This feeling was so strong that he could not help smiling. He put down his legs, threw one of them over the other, and placing his arm across it felt its firm calf where he had hurt it in the fall the day before, and then, throwing himself back, sighed deeply several times.

      ‘Delightful! O delightful!’ he thought. He had often before been joyfully conscious of his body, but had never loved himself, his own body, as he did now. It gave him pleasure to feel the slight pain in his strong leg, to be conscious of the muscles of his chest moving as he breathed. That clear, cool August day which made Anna feel so hopeless seemed exhilarating and invigorating to him and refreshed his face and neck, which were glowing after their washing and rubbing. The scent of brilliantine given off by his moustache seemed peculiarly pleasant in the fresh air. All that he saw from the carriage window through the cold pure air in the pale light of the evening sky seemed as fresh, bright and vigorous as he was himself. The roofs of the houses glittered in the evening sun; the sharp outlines of the fences and the corners of buildings, the figures of people and vehicles they occasionally met, the motionless verdure of the grass and trees, the fields of potatoes with their clear-cut ridges, the slanting shadows

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