第一百四十章 第十六节
第十六节
列文上楼时，他的妻子正坐在新的银茶炊旁，面前摆着新茶具。她让老阿加菲娅·米哈伊洛夫娜坐在小桌旁，给她倒了满满一杯茶，自己则读着多莉的来信。他们两人一直保持着频繁的通信。
“瞧，您的好太太非要我坐在这里陪她一会儿。”阿加菲娅·米哈伊洛夫娜慈爱地朝基蒂微笑着说道。
从阿加菲娅·米哈伊洛夫娜的话语里，列文读出了最近她与基蒂之间那场戏的最后结局。他明白，尽管阿加菲娅·米哈伊洛夫娜因为新主妇夺走了她手中的管理权而自尊心受到伤害，但基蒂最终还是赢得了她的心，让她喜欢上了自己。
“这里，我也拆开了你的信。”基蒂递给他一封字迹潦草的信。“我想，这封信是那个女人写来的，就是你哥哥的那个……”她说道，“我没看完。这封信是我娘家那边和多莉写来的。你猜怎么着！多莉带着塔尼娅和格里沙去萨尔马茨基家参加儿童舞会了：塔尼娅扮成了法国侯爵夫人。”
但列文没有听她说话。他涨红了脸，拿起他哥哥过去的情妇玛丽亚·尼古拉耶夫娜的信，读了起来。这是他收到的玛丽亚·尼古拉耶夫娜的第二封信。在第一封信里，玛丽亚·尼古拉耶夫娜写道，他哥哥无缘无故就把她赶走了，她带着令人感动的天真补充说，尽管她又陷入了困境，但她别无所求，什么都不想要，只是担心尼古拉·德米特里耶维奇身体虚弱，没有她会遭遇不幸，因此恳求做弟弟的照顾他。现在这封信的口气完全不同了。她在莫斯科找到了尼古拉·德米特里耶维奇，又和他重归于好，并和他一起去了外省的一个小城，他在那里谋得了一个公职。但他跟上司吵了架，正在回莫斯科的路上，不过他在路上病得很重，恐怕再也起不了床了，她在信中写道。“他总是念叨你，再说，他身边也没钱了。”
“你读读这个；多莉信里提到了你。”基蒂微笑着打算开始说，但看到丈夫脸色变了，她突然停下来。
“怎么了？出什么事了？”
“她写信告诉我，尼古拉，我哥哥，快要死了。我要到他那里去。”
基蒂的脸色立刻变了。关于塔尼娅扮演法国侯爵夫人的念头，关于多莉，一切都烟消云散了。
“你什么时候走？”她说。
“明天。”
“我也跟你一起去，行吗？”她说。
“基蒂！你在想什么？”他责备地说。
“你这是什么意思？”见他似乎不情愿而且带着恼怒接受她的提议，她感到委屈。“为什么我不能去？我不会妨碍你的。我……”
“我去是因为我哥哥快要死了。”列文说。“你为什么……”
“为什么？跟你一样的原因。”
“在我如此沉重的时刻，她想到的只是自己一个人会孤单。”列文想。在这种严重的事情上缺少坦诚，让他非常恼火。
“这绝对不行。”他严厉地说。
阿加菲娅·米哈伊洛夫娜看到快要吵起来了，便轻轻地放下茶杯，走了出去。基蒂甚至没有注意到她。丈夫说最后那句话的语气伤了她，尤其因为他显然不相信她的话。
“我跟你说，如果你去，我就跟你一起去；我肯定去。”她又急又怒地说。“为什么不行？你为什么说不行？”
“因为要去的地方谁也不知道在哪儿，要走各种各样的路，住各种各样的旅馆。你会成为我的累赘。”列文尽量冷静地说。
“根本不是。我什么也不需要。你能去的地方，我也能……”
“哼，至少一点，那个女人在那儿，你不能见她。”
“我不知道，也不想知道谁在那儿，是什么。我只知道我丈夫的兄弟快死了，我丈夫要去看他，我也要跟我丈夫一起去……”
“基蒂！别生气。可你稍微想想：这件事太重大了，我简直不能容忍你想的是你个人的软弱，是不想一个人待着。得了吧，你一个人会寂寞的，不如去莫斯科住几天。”
“你看，你总是把卑鄙、恶劣的动机加到我的头上。”她含着因自尊受伤和愤怒而涌出的泪水说。“我不是软弱，不是……我觉得，在丈夫有难的时候和他在一起是我的责任，可你存心要伤害我，存心不理解我……”
“不，这太可怕了！真成了奴隶了！”列文喊道，他站起来，再也无法抑制自己的怒火。但在同一瞬间，他感觉自己是在打自己。
“那你为什么结婚？你可以自由啊。既然你后悔了，为什么还结婚？”她说着站起身，跑进了客厅。
等他去找她时，她正在抽泣。
他开始说话，想找些话来，不是劝阻她，而只是安慰她。但她不听他的，什么也不肯同意。他俯下身去拉她的手，她的手抗拒着。他吻了吻她的手，吻了吻她的头发，又吻了吻她的手——她还是不作声。但是，当他用双手捧着她的脸，说“基蒂！”时，她突然清醒过来，开始哭了起来，于是他们和好了。
他们决定第二天一起走。列文对妻子说，他相信她想一起去完全是出于帮忙的愿望，也同意有玛丽亚·尼古拉耶夫娜在他哥哥身边，她一起去并无不当之处，但他内心深处对自己和她都不满意。他不满意她，因为在必要的时候她不能下决心让他一个人去（他前不久还不敢相信她爱他是如此幸福，如今却因为她爱他爱得太多而感到不幸，想想这多么奇怪！）；他不满意自己，因为自己没能表现出更坚强的意志。更深的内心不协调感来自他对她没必要考虑他哥哥身边那个女人这一点的看法，他恐惧地想到他们可能会遇到的所有情况。光是想到他的妻子，他的基蒂，会和一个粗俗的女人同处一室，他就吓得浑身发抖，感到厌恶。
When Levin went upstairs, his wife was sitting near the new silver
samovar behind the new tea service, and, having settled old Agafea
Mihalovna at a little table with a full cup of tea, was reading a
letter from Dolly, with whom they were in continual and frequent
correspondence.
“You see, your good lady’s settled me here, told me to sit a bit with
her,” said Agafea Mihalovna, smiling affectionately at Kitty.
In these words of Agafea Mihalovna, Levin read the final act of the
drama which had been enacted of late between her and Kitty. He saw
that, in spite of Agafea Mihalovna’s feelings being hurt by a new
mistress taking the reins of government out of her hands, Kitty had yet
conquered her and made her love her.
“Here, I opened your letter too,” said Kitty, handing him an illiterate
letter. “It’s from that woman, I think, your brother’s....” she said.
“I did not read it through. This is from my people and from Dolly.
Fancy! Dolly took Tanya and Grisha to a children’s ball at the
Sarmatskys’: Tanya was a French marquise.”
But Levin did not hear her. Flushing, he took the letter from Marya
Nikolaevna, his brother’s former mistress, and began to read it. This
was the second letter he had received from Marya Nikolaevna. In the
first letter, Marya Nikolaevna wrote that his brother had sent her away
for no fault of hers, and, with touching simplicity, added that though
she was in want again, she asked for nothing, and wished for nothing,
but was only tormented by the thought that Nikolay Dmitrievitch would
come to grief without her, owing to the weak state of his health, and
begged his brother to look after him. Now she wrote quite differently.
She had found Nikolay Dmitrievitch, had again made it up with him in
Moscow, and had moved with him to a provincial town, where he had
received a post in the government service. But that he had quarreled
with the head official, and was on his way back to Moscow, only he had
been taken so ill on the road that it was doubtful if he would ever
leave his bed again, she wrote. “It’s always of you he has talked, and,
besides, he has no more money left.”
“Read this; Dolly writes about you,” Kitty was beginning, with a smile;
but she stopped suddenly, noticing the changed expression on her
husband’s face.
“What is it? What’s the matter?”
“She writes to me that Nikolay, my brother, is at death’s door. I shall
go to him.”
Kitty’s face changed at once. Thoughts of Tanya as a marquise, of
Dolly, all had vanished.
“When are you going?” she said.
“Tomorrow.”
“And I will go with you, can I?” she said.
“Kitty! What are you thinking of?” he said reproachfully.
“How do you mean?” offended that he should seem to take her suggestion
unwillingly and with vexation. “Why shouldn’t I go? I shan’t be in your
way. I....”
“I’m going because my brother is dying,” said Levin. “Why should
you....”
“Why? For the same reason as you.”
“And, at a moment of such gravity for me, she only thinks of her being
dull by herself,” thought Levin. And this lack of candor in a matter of
such gravity infuriated him.
“It’s out of the question,” he said sternly.
Agafea Mihalovna, seeing that it was coming to a quarrel, gently put
down her cup and withdrew. Kitty did not even notice her. The tone in
which her husband had said the last words wounded her, especially
because he evidently did not believe what she had said.
“I tell you, that if you go, I shall come with you; I shall certainly
come,” she said hastily and wrathfully. “Why out of the question? Why
do you say it’s out of the question?”
“Because it’ll be going God knows where, by all sorts of roads and to
all sorts of hotels. You would be a hindrance to me,” said Levin,
trying to be cool.
“Not at all. I don’t want anything. Where you can go, I can....”
“Well, for one thing then, because this woman’s there whom you can’t
meet.”
“I don’t know and don’t care to know who’s there and what. I know that
my husband’s brother is dying and my husband is going to him, and I go
with my husband too....”
“Kitty! Don’t get angry. But just think a little: this is a matter of
such importance that I can’t bear to think that you should bring in a
feeling of weakness, of dislike to being left alone. Come, you’ll be
dull alone, so go and stay at Moscow a little.”
“There, you always ascribe base, vile motives to me,” she said with
tears of wounded pride and fury. “I didn’t mean, it wasn’t weakness, it
wasn’t ... I feel that it’s my duty to be with my husband when he’s in
trouble, but you try on purpose to hurt me, you try on purpose not to
understand....”
“No; this is awful! To be such a slave!” cried Levin, getting up, and
unable to restrain his anger any longer. But at the same second he felt
that he was beating himself.
“Then why did you marry? You could have been free. Why did you, if you
regret it?” she said, getting up and running away into the
drawing-room.
When he went to her, she was sobbing.
He began to speak, trying to find words not to dissuade but simply to
soothe her. But she did not heed him, and would not agree to anything.
He bent down to her and took her hand, which resisted him. He kissed
her hand, kissed her hair, kissed her hand again—still she was silent.
But when he took her face in both his hands and said “Kitty!” she
suddenly recovered herself, and began to cry, and they were reconciled.
It was decided that they should go together the next day. Levin told
his wife that he believed she wanted to go simply in order to be of
use, agreed that Marya Nikolaevna’s being with his brother did not make
her going improper, but he set off at the bottom of his heart
dissatisfied both with her and with himself. He was dissatisfied with
her for being unable to make up her mind to let him go when it was
necessary (and how strange it was for him to think that he, so lately
hardly daring to believe in such happiness as that she could love
him—now was unhappy because she loved him too much!), and he was
dissatisfied with himself for not showing more strength of will. Even
greater was the feeling of disagreement at the bottom of his heart as
to her not needing to consider the woman who was with his brother, and
he thought with horror of all the contingencies they might meet with.
The mere idea of his wife, his Kitty, being in the same room with a
common wench, set him shuddering with horror and loathing.
