Chapter 2
THESE FOREBODING PLUMES of smoke could not be seen from the groznium mine and surrounding estate at Pokrovskoe, but the changes they represented were as much felt there as anywhere. Konstantin Levin and his new wife, Kitty, now felt united not only by the bonds of matrimony but by a common purpose: having left Socrates and Tatiana behind, disguised as battered old Class IIs, and slaving in a grimy cigarette factory, they vowed never to submit their beloved-companions for “adjustment”—now understood to be a most permanent adjustment indeed—no matter what should happen.
They were united, too, in their fear of the Honored Guests; Kitty had watched as Levin with determination set his army of Pitbots and Extractors to the building of strong fencing and the digging of trenches around the grounds of the estate, in hopes of repelling the alien hordes.
But for Kitty and Levin, all this tension and fear and looming dread only reaffirmed and even heightened their love.
They were playing host to a small party up from Moscow, and Levin and Kitty were particularly happy and conscious of their love that evening. The presence of Dolly, and of Kitty’s mother, the old princess—both of whom who had grudgingly submitted their own Class Ills to be adjusted, and now knew they had lost them for good—only made their shared bond that much stronger. They loved each other and their happiness in their love seemed to imply a disagreeable slur on those who would have liked to feel the same and could not—and they felt a prick of conscience.
Kitty longed to tell her mother their secret, of how Socrates and Tatiana were yet extant and well. But she was urged by Levin to hold her tongue, for he feared that this forbidden knowledge would inevitably travel from the princess to Dolly, and from Dolly to Stepan Arkadyich—who Levin felt had far too casual a manner to be trusted with the confidence.
That evening they were expecting Stepan Arkadyich to come down by Grav, and the old prince had written that possibly he might come too.
“Mark my words, Alexander will not come,” said the old princess. “And I know why: he says that young people ought to be left alone for a while at first.”
“But Papa has left us alone. We’ve never seen him,” said Kitty. “Besides, we’re not young people!—we’re old married people by now.”
“If he doesn’t come, I shall say good-bye to you children,” said the princess, sighing mournfully.
“What nonsense, Mamma!” both the daughters fell upon her at once.
“How do you suppose he is feeling? Why, now . . .”
And suddenly there was an unexpected quiver in the princess’s voice. Her daughters were silent, and looked at one another. These days, Mamma always finds something to be miserable about, they said in that glance. Ever since she had married off her last and favorite daughter, and her beloved-companion La Shcherbatskaya had been carted off, the old home had been left empty.
In the middle of the after-dinner conversation they heard the hum of an engine and the sound of wheels on the gravel. Dolly had not time to get up to go and meet her husband, when from the window of the room below, where Levin was helping Grisha with his Latin lesson, Levin leaped out and lifted Grisha out after him.
“It’s Stiva!” Levin shouted from under the balcony. “We’ve finished, Dolly, don’t worry!” he added, and started running like a boy to meet the carriage.
“Is ea id, ejus, ejus, ejus!” shouted Grisha, skipping along the avenue.
“And someone else too! Papa, of course!” cried Levin, stopping at the entrance of the avenue. “Kitty, don’t come down the steep staircase, go round.”
But Levin had been mistaken in taking the person sitting in the carriage for the old prince. As he got nearer to the carriage he saw beside Stepan Arkadyich not the prince but a handsome, stout young man in a Scotch cap, with long ends of ribbon behind.
This figure was introduced as Vassenka Veslovsky, a distant cousin of the Shcherbatskys, a brilliant young gentleman in Petersburg and Moscow society. “A capital fellow, and a keen sportsman,” as Stepan Arkadyich said, introducing him.
Not a whit abashed by the disappointment caused by his having come in place of the old prince, Veslovsky greeted Levin gaily, claiming acquaintance with him in the past, and snatching up Grisha into the carriage, lifted him over the spaniel that Stepan Arkadyich had brought with him. (The pup was meant by Oblonsky to make an end to the sullen air of disappointment Grisha had maintained since being informed that, after a little lifetime of waiting, he would now never “come of age” and receive his own Class III.)
Levin did not get into the carriage, but walked behind. He was rather vexed at the non-arrival of the old prince, whom he liked more and more the more he saw of him, and also at the arrival of this Vassenka Veslovsky, a quite uncongenial and superfluous person. He seemed to him still more uncongenial and superfluous when, on approaching the steps where the whole party, children and grown-ups, were gathered together in much excitement, Levin saw Vassenka Veslovsky, with a particularly warm and gallant air, kissing Kitty’s hand.
“Well, and how is the Hunt-and-be-Hunted this season?” Stepan Arkadyich said to Levin, hardly leaving time for everyone to utter their greetings. “We’ve come with the most savage intentions. How pretty you’ve grown, Dolly,” he said to his wife, once more kissing her hand, holding it in one of his, and patting it with the other.
Levin, who a minute before had been in the happiest frame of mind, now looked darkly at everyone, and everything displeased him. He thought for a moment of Socrates, rusting away in some dank, provincial backwater. How can it be that this crass arriviste should be here among us, he thought, glaring at the preposterous Veslovsky, while my beloved-companion molders, many versts from where I might enjoy his company?
And who was it he kissed yesterday with those lips? he thought, looking at Stepan Arkadyich’s tender demonstrations to his wife. He looked at Dolly, and he did not like her either. She doesn’t believe in his love. So what is she so pleased about? Revolting! thought Levin. He looked at the princess, who had been so dear to him a minute before, and he did not like the manner in which she welcomed this Vassenka, with his ribbons, just as though she were in her own house. And more hateful than anyone was Kitty for falling in with the tone of gaiety with which this gentleman regarded his visit in the country, as though it were a holiday for himself and everyone else.
Noisily talking, they all went into the house; but as soon as they were all seated, Levin turned and went out. Kitty saw something was wrong with her husband. She tried to seize a moment to speak to him alone, but he made haste to get away from her, saying he was wanted at the pit, where the perimeter of the mine was being fortified by thick defensive battlements against the possibility of alien attack. It was long since his own work on the estate had seemed to him so important as at that moment. It’s all holiday for them, he thought; but these are no holiday matters, they won’t wait, and there’s no living without them.