Chapter 21
‘I HAVE come for you; your washing has taken a long time!’ said Petritsky. ‘Well, is it done?’
‘Yes, it’s done,’ said Vronsky, smiling with his eyes and twirling the ends of his moustache as carefully as if, after the order he had established in his affairs, any too vigorous or rapid movement might upset it.
‘After it, you always look as if you have come out of a Russian bath,’ said Petritsky, ‘and I have come straight from Gritska’ (the name by which they called their Commanding Officer). ‘They’re expecting you.’
Vronsky looked at his comrade without answering, thinking about something else.
‘Is that where the music is?’ he said, listening to the familiar strains, now audible, of brass instruments playing polkas and waltzes. ‘What’s up?’
‘Serpukhovskoy has arrived.’
‘Ah! I did not know,’ exclaimed Vronsky.
His smiling eyes shone still more brightly.
Having made up his mind that he was happy in his love, and having sacrificed his ambitions to it, or at any rate assumed that rôle, Vronsky could no longer feel envious of Serpukhovskoy nor vexed with him for not coming straight to see him on reaching the regiment. Serpukhovskoy was a good friend and he was glad that he would see him.
‘I am very glad.’
Demin the C.O. occupied a large country house, and the whole party were gathered together on the roomy verandah. In the grounds, what first met Vronsky’s eyes were the soldier-singers in their white linen uniforms, standing beside a cask of vodka, then the jolly, healthy figure of the C.O. surrounded by his officers. Having come out on the top step of the verandah, he was gesticulating and above the noise of the band (which was playing a quadrille of Offenbach’s) was loudly giving orders to some soldiers who were standing somewhat apart. A group of soldiers, a sergeant-major and some other non-commissioned officers, came up to the verandah at the same time as Vronsky. After returning to the table, the Commander again came forward with a glass of champagne in his hand and announced a toast: ‘To the health of our late comrade, the gallant General, Prince Serpukhovskoy! Hurrah!’
Following the Commander, champagne glass in hand, Serpukhovskoy came down smiling:
‘You are growing younger every day, Bondarenko!’ he remarked to the ruddy-faced, smart-looking sergeant-major, serving for a second term, who stood just in front of him.
Vronsky had not seen Serpukhovskoy for three years. He had matured and had grown whiskers, but still had just as good a figure, and was just as striking — not so much for his good looks as for the delicacy and nobility of his face and bearing. One change Vronsky noticed in him was that quiet and permanent radiance which comes upon the faces of people who have succeeded and feel assured that everybody recognizes their success. Vronsky knew that kind of radiance, and noticed it at once on Serpukhovskoy’s face.
As he was descending the steps Serpukhovskoy noticed Vronsky. A smile of joy lit up his face. He jerked his head backwards and raised his glass, welcoming Vronsky, and showing by this gesture that he must first go to the sergeant-major, who was already stretching himself and puckering his lips for a kiss.
‘Ah, here he is!’ exclaimed the Commander, ‘and Yashvin told me that you were in one of your dismal moods.’
Serpukhovskoy kissed the smart-looking sergeant-major on his moist fresh lips and, wiping his mouth on his handkerchief, stepped up to Vronsky.
‘Well, I am glad!’ he said, taking him apart and pressing his hand.
‘You look after him,’ shouted the Commander to Yashvin, and went out to the soldiers.
‘Why were you not at the races yesterday? I thought I should see you there,’ asked Vronsky, examining Serpukhovskoy.
‘I did come, but late. Excuse me!’ he added, and turned to his adjutant. ‘Please give order to distribute this money equally among the men.’
He hurriedly took three one-hundred-rouble notes out of his pocket-book and blushed.
‘Vronsky, will you eat something, or have a drink?’ said Yashvin. ‘Hey! Bring the Count something to eat! Here, drink this!’
The carousing at the house of the C.O. continued long.
They drank a great deal. Serpukhovskoy was lifted and tossed by the officers. Then the C.O. was tossed. Then the C.O. danced with Petritsky in front of the singers. After that, feeling rather weak, he sat down on a bench in the yard and began demonstrating to Yashvin Russia’s superiority to Prussia, especially in cavalry charges, and the carousal quieted down for a moment. Serpukhovskoy went to the dressing-room to wash his hands, and found Vronsky there. Vronsky had taken off his coat and was washing his hairy red neck under the washstand tap, rubbing it and his head with his hands. When he had finished his ablutions Vronsky sat down beside Serpukhovskoy on a little sofa in the dressing-room and began a conversation of great interest to both of them.
‘I used to hear all about you from my wife,’ said Serpukhovskoy. ‘I am glad you saw a good deal of her.’
‘She is friends with Varya, and they are the only women in Petersburg whom it is a pleasure for me to meet,’ said Vronsky with a smile. He smiled because he foresaw the turn their conversation would take and was pleased.
‘The only ones?’ asked Serpukhovskoy, smiling.
‘Yes, and I used to hear about you, but not only from your wife,’ said Vronsky, checking the hint by a serious look. ‘I am very glad of your success but not at all surprised. I expected even more.’
Serpukhovskoy smiled. Vronsky’s opinion of him evidently gave him pleasure and he saw no reason to hide it.
‘I, on the contrary — I must frankly admit — expected less. But I am pleased, very pleased; I am ambitious, it is my weakness, and I acknowledge it.’
‘Perhaps you would not if you were not successful,’ said Vronsky.
‘I do not think so,’ and Serpukhovskoy smiled again. ‘I do not mean to say I could not live without it, but it would be a bore. Of course I may be making a mistake, but I believe I have some capacity for the career I have adopted, and that in my hands power of any kind, if I ever possess it, will be used in a better way than in the hands of many whom I know,’ said he with the radiant consciousness of success. ‘Therefore the nearer I am to getting it the more pleased I am.’
‘It may be so for you, but not for every one. I used to think the same, yet here I am living and find that it is not worth while living for that alone,’ said Vronsky.
‘There you are! There you are!’ said Serpukhovskoy, laughing. ‘I had begun by saying that I used to hear about you, and your refusal… . Of course I approved of it. But there is a way of doing a thing, and I think that, though your action was good in itself, you did not do it the right way.’
‘What