ANNA KARENINA (Collector's Edition). Leo Tolstoy

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      Chapter 13

      NONE but those who knew Karenin most intimately knew that this apparently cold and sober-minded man had one weakness, quite inconsistent with the general trend of his character. Karenin could not with equanimity hear or see a child or a woman weeping. The sight of tears upset him and made him quite incapable of reasoning. The chief of his staff and his secretary knew this and warned women who came with petitions that they should on no account give way to tears if they did not want to spoil their case. ‘He will get angry and won’t listen to you,’ they said; and in such cases the mental perturbation which tears produced in Karenin really found expression in hurried bursts of anger. ‘I can do nothing for you. Kindly go away!’ he would shout on these occasions.

      When Anna on their way home from the races announced to him what her relations with Vronsky were and immediately hid her face in her hands and began crying, Karenin, despite his indignation with her, was as usual overcome by that mental perturbation. Being aware of this and of the fact that any expression he could at that moment find for his feelings would be incompatible with the situation, he tried to conceal all signs of life within himself and neither moved nor looked at her. That was the cause of the strange deathlike look on his face which had so struck Anna. When they reached home he helped her out of the carriage and took leave of her with his usual courtesy, uttering non-committal words; he said he would let her know his decision next day.

      His wife’s words, confirming as they did his worst suspicions, had given Karenin a cruel pain in his heart. This pain was rendered more acute by physical pity for her, evoked by her tears. But when alone in the carriage, to his surprise and joy he felt completely relieved of that pity and of the suspicions and jealousy that had lately so tormented him.

      He felt like a man who has just had a tooth drawn which has been hurting him a long time. After terrible pain and a sensation as if something enormous, bigger than his whole head, were being pulled out of his jaw, he feels, scarcely believing in his happiness, that the thing which has so long been poisoning his life and engrossing his attention no longer exists, and that it is possible again to live, think, and be interested in other things. What Karenin experienced was a feeling of this kind: it had been a strange and terrible pain, but it was past, and he felt he could again live, and think of other things besides his wife.

      ‘Without honour, without heart, without religion; a depraved woman! I knew it and could see it all along, though I tried out of pity for her to deceive myself,’ thought he. And it really seemed to him that he had always seen it. He recalled all the details of their past life, and details which he had not previously considered wrong now proved to him clearly that she had always been depraved.

      ‘I made a mistake when I bound up my life with hers, but in my mistake there was nothing blameworthy, therefore I ought not to be unhappy. It is not I who am guilty,’ he said to himself, ‘but it is she. She does not concern me. She does not exist for me.’

      What would happen to her and to her son, toward whom his feelings had changed as they had toward her, no longer occupied his mind. The one thing that preoccupied him was the question of how he could best divest himself of the mud with which she in her fall had bespattered him: of how to do it in the way which would be most decent, most convenient for him, and consequently fairest, and how he should continue his active, honest, and useful career. ‘I ought not to be unhappy because a despicable woman has committed a crime, but I must find the best way out of this painful situation in which she has placed me. And find it I will,’ said he to himself frowning more and more. ‘I’m not the first and shall not be the last’; and without taking into account the historical instances of wives’ unfaithfulness, beginning with Menelaus [mythical husband of Helen] and La Belle Hélène [a comic opera by Offenbach], whose memory had just recently been fresh in everybody’s mind, quite a number of cases of infidelity, the infidelity of modern wives, occurred to Karenin.

      ‘Daryalov, Poltavsky, Prince Karibanov, Count Paskudin, Dram … Yes, even Dram — that honest, business-like fellow … Semenov, Chagin, Sigonin …’ he passed them in review. ‘It’s true a kind of unreasonable ridicule falls on these men, but I never could see it in any other light than as a misfortune, and felt nothing but sympathy,’ Karenin reflected, though it was not true: he had never felt any sympathy of the kind, and the more cases he had come across of husbands being betrayed by their wives the better the opinion he had had of himself. ‘It is a misfortune that may befall anyone and it has befallen me. The only question is, how best to face the situation.’ And he began mentally reviewing the courses pursued by other men in similar positions.

      ‘Daryalov fought a duel… .’

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