第一百五十二章 第二十八章
抵达彼得堡时，伏伦斯基和安娜下榻于一家顶级酒店。伏伦斯基住在楼下独立套间，安娜则与孩子、奶妈及侍女住在楼上四室相连的宽敞套房里。
抵达当日，伏伦斯基便前往兄长寓所。在那里他遇见了因事从莫斯科赶来的母亲。母亲和嫂嫂照例对他嘘寒问暖，询问他在国外的经历，谈论共同的熟人，却绝口不提他与安娜的关系。次日清晨，兄长主动来见伏伦斯基，问起安娜的事。阿列克谢·伏伦斯基坦率相告：他将与卡列宁夫人的关系视为婚姻，正设法促成离婚事宜，之后便会迎娶她；在此过程中，他视她如正妻无异，并请求兄长将这番话转告母亲和嫂嫂。
"即使上流社会不认同，我也毫不在意，"伏伦斯基说道，"但若我的亲人想要维系与我的亲情，就必须以同样的态度对待我的妻子。"
素来敬重弟弟判断力的兄长，要等上流社会对此事盖棺定论才能判断对错；就他个人而言并无异议。于是他与阿列克谢同去拜访安娜。
在兄长面前，如同在所有人面前一样，伏伦斯基对安娜保持着某种礼节性的距离，待她如同至交密友。但双方都心知肚明兄长了解实情，他们便谈论起安娜即将前往伏伦斯基庄园的事。
尽管阅历丰富，伏伦斯基此刻却因处境突变陷入奇特的认知偏差。按理他早该明白，上流社会已对他和安娜关上大门；但他脑中却生出朦胧幻想：或许这只是旧时代的规矩，如今时代进步神速（他不知不觉间已成了各种进步的拥护者），社会观念已然改变，接纳与否并非定数。"当然，"他想，"宫廷社交圈不会接纳她，但至亲好友理应认清是非。"一个人若知道随时可以换个姿势，便能跷着二郎腿稳坐数小时；但若明白必须保持这个姿势不能动弹，那么痉挛便会袭来，腿开始抽搐，不由自主地想要伸向渴望的方向——伏伦斯基对上流社会的感受正是如此。他心底明知社会已对他们关上了门，却偏要试探这世界是否已然改变，是否会接纳他们。然而他很快便察觉：虽然社会对他人敞开怀抱，对安娜却紧闭门户。就像玩猫捉老鼠的游戏，举向他的手会立刻落下，挡住安娜的去路。
伏伦斯基最先会见的一位彼得堡贵妇是他的表姐贝特西。
"可算回来了！"她欢快地迎上前，"安娜呢？我太高兴了！你们住在哪儿？想必在外逍遥过后，会觉得咱们可怜的彼得堡沉闷得可怕。我都能想象你们在罗马度蜜月的情景。离婚的事办得如何？都解决了吧？"
伏伦斯基注意到，当贝特西得知离婚尚未办妥时，她的热忱明显冷却了。
"我知道会有人拿石头砸我，"她说，"但我还是要去看望安娜的，非去不可。你们不会在此久留吧？"
她当天果然来看望安娜，但语气已与往日大相径庭。她毫不掩饰地炫耀着自己的勇气，希望安娜能珍视她这份义气。只坐了十分钟，闲聊了几句社交圈的闲话，临走时她说：
"您还没告诉我离婚何时办妥？就算我愿意不顾世俗非议，在您正式再婚前，那些古板的人还是会冷眼相待的。如今这已是寻常事。这种风气早就流行开了。您周五就走？真遗憾咱们不能再聚了。"
从贝特西的言谈中，伏伦斯基本应看清世态炎凉，但他仍试图在家族中另寻转机。他对母亲已不抱希望——最初对安娜那般热络的母亲，如今定会因儿子前程尽毁而毫不留情。他将希望寄托在嫂嫂瓦莉娅身上。他以为这位嫂嫂不会落井下石，会坦荡地来看望安娜，甚至在家中接待她。
抵达次日，伏伦斯基登门拜访，见嫂嫂独处时便直抒胸臆。
"阿列克谢，"她听完后说，"你知道我多么疼你，多愿意为你做任何事。但我一直没开口，是因为深知帮不了你和安娜·阿尔卡季耶夫娜，"她特意加重语气念出"安娜·阿尔卡季耶夫娜"这个名字，"请别以为我在评判她。绝无此意。或许换作是我，也会做出同样的事。这种事我无权也无从置喙，"她怯怯地望着他阴郁的脸，"但凡事得名正言顺。你要我去看望她，邀她来家中做客，助她重返社交圈——可你得明白，我做不到。我有女儿要养育，为丈夫的事业也得周旋于社交场。当然，我可以去拜访安娜·阿尔卡季耶夫娜：她自会明白我无法在这里请她做客，否则我必须安排得让她避免接触那些持有不同眼光的人——这会伤害她。我没有能力提高她的地位……"
"哼，我可不觉得她比您接待过的千百个贵妇更低贱！"伏伦斯基更加阴沉地打断她，默默站起身，明白嫂嫂心意已决。
"阿列克谢！别生我的气。请理解我并无过错，"瓦莉娅带着怯怯的微笑望着他。
"我没有生你的气，"他依旧阴沉地说，"但我深感遗憾，两方面都遗憾。遗憾这意味着我们的亲情——就算不说决裂，至少是淡薄了。你该明白，对我来说，也只能如此。"
说罢他便告辞离去。
伏伦斯基明白再做努力已是徒劳。在彼得堡的这些日子，他只能像个异乡人般度日，避免与旧日圈子的任何接触，免得遭受那些令他难以忍受的羞辱与难堪。在彼得堡最令人不快的是，卡列宁的名讳仿佛无处不在。无论谈论什么话题，最终都会绕到阿列克谢·亚历山德罗维奇身上；无论走到哪里，都可能撞见他。至少在伏伦斯基看来如此——就像手指受伤的人总觉得所有东西都在故意碰触他的痛处。
在彼得堡的逗留令伏伦斯基愈发痛苦，因为他始终察觉到安娜身上某种难以捉摸的新情绪。她时而对他柔情缱绻，时而又冷若冰霜、烦躁不安、讳莫如深。她似乎心事重重，有所隐瞒，对他备受煎熬的屈辱视而不见——而凭她那敏锐的直觉，这些屈辱本该令她更加难以忍受。
On arriving in Petersburg, Vronsky and Anna stayed at one of the best
hotels; Vronsky apart in a lower story, Anna above with her child, its
nurse, and her maid, in a large suite of four rooms.
On the day of his arrival Vronsky went to his brother’s. There he found
his mother, who had come from Moscow on business. His mother and
sister-in-law greeted him as usual: they asked him about his stay
abroad, and talked of their common acquaintances, but did not let drop
a single word in allusion to his connection with Anna. His brother came
the next morning to see Vronsky, and of his own accord asked him about
her, and Alexey Vronsky told him directly that he looked upon his
connection with Madame Karenina as marriage; that he hoped to arrange a
divorce, and then to marry her, and until then he considered her as
much a wife as any other wife, and he begged him to tell their mother
and his wife so.
“If the world disapproves, I don’t care,” said Vronsky; “but if my
relations want to be on terms of relationship with me, they will have
to be on the same terms with my wife.”
The elder brother, who had always a respect for his younger brother’s
judgment, could not well tell whether he was right or not till the
world had decided the question; for his part he had nothing against it,
and with Alexey he went up to see Anna.
Before his brother, as before everyone, Vronsky addressed Anna with a
certain formality, treating her as he might a very intimate friend, but
it was understood that his brother knew their real relations, and they
talked about Anna’s going to Vronsky’s estate.
In spite of all his social experience Vronsky was, in consequence of
the new position in which he was placed, laboring under a strange
misapprehension. One would have thought he must have understood that
society was closed for him and Anna; but now some vague ideas had
sprung up in his brain that this was only the case in old-fashioned
days, and that now with the rapidity of modern progress (he had
unconsciously become by now a partisan of every sort of progress) the
views of society had changed, and that the question whether they would
be received in society was not a foregone conclusion. “Of course,” he
thought, “she would not be received at court, but intimate friends can
and must look at it in the proper light.” One may sit for several hours
at a stretch with one’s legs crossed in the same position, if one knows
that there’s nothing to prevent one’s changing one’s position; but if a
man knows that he must remain sitting so with crossed legs, then cramps
come on, the legs begin to twitch and to strain towards the spot to
which one would like to draw them. This was what Vronsky was
experiencing in regard to the world. Though at the bottom of his heart
he knew that the world was shut on them, he put it to the test whether
the world had not changed by now and would not receive them. But he
very quickly perceived that though the world was open for him
personally, it was closed for Anna. Just as in the game of cat and
mouse, the hands raised for him were dropped to bar the way for Anna.
One of the first ladies of Petersburg society whom Vronsky saw was his
cousin Betsy.
“At last!” she greeted him joyfully. “And Anna? How glad I am! Where
are you stopping? I can fancy after your delightful travels you must
find our poor Petersburg horrid. I can fancy your honeymoon in Rome.
How about the divorce? Is that all over?”
Vronsky noticed that Betsy’s enthusiasm waned when she learned that no
divorce had as yet taken place.
“People will throw stones at me, I know,” she said, “but I shall come
and see Anna; yes, I shall certainly come. You won’t be here long, I
suppose?”
And she did certainly come to see Anna the same day, but her tone was
not at all the same as in former days. She unmistakably prided herself
on her courage, and wished Anna to appreciate the fidelity of her
friendship. She only stayed ten minutes, talking of society gossip, and
on leaving she said:
“You’ve never told me when the divorce is to be? Supposing I’m ready to
fling my cap over the mill, other starchy people will give you the cold
shoulder until you’re married. And that’s so simple nowadays. _Ça se
fait_. So you’re going on Friday? Sorry we shan’t see each other
again.”
From Betsy’s tone Vronsky might have grasped what he had to expect from
the world; but he made another effort in his own family. His mother he
did not reckon upon. He knew that his mother, who had been so
enthusiastic over Anna at their first acquaintance, would have no mercy
on her now for having ruined her son’s career. But he had more hope of
Varya, his brother’s wife. He fancied she would not throw stones, and
would go simply and directly to see Anna, and would receive her in her
own house.
The day after his arrival Vronsky went to her, and finding her alone,
expressed his wishes directly.
“You know, Alexey,” she said after hearing him, “how fond I am of you,
and how ready I am to do anything for you; but I have not spoken,
because I knew I could be of no use to you and to Anna Arkadyevna,” she
said, articulating the name “Anna Arkadyevna” with particular care.
“Don’t suppose, please, that I judge her. Never; perhaps in her place I
should have done the same. I don’t and can’t enter into that,” she
said, glancing timidly at his gloomy face. “But one must call things by
their names. You want me to go and see her, to ask her here, and to
rehabilitate her in society; but do understand that _I cannot_ do so. I
have daughters growing up, and I must live in the world for my
husband’s sake. Well, I’m ready to come and see Anna Arkadyevna: she
will understand that I can’t ask her here, or I should have to do so in
such a way that she would not meet people who look at things
differently; that would offend her. I can’t raise her....”
“Oh, I don’t regard her as fallen more than hundreds of women you do
receive!” Vronsky interrupted her still more gloomily, and he got up in
silence, understanding that his sister-in-law’s decision was not to be
shaken.
“Alexey! don’t be angry with me. Please understand that I’m not to
blame,” began Varya, looking at him with a timid smile.
“I’m not angry with you,” he said still as gloomily; “but I’m sorry in
two ways. I’m sorry, too, that this means breaking up our friendship—if
not breaking up, at least weakening it. You will understand that for
me, too, it cannot be otherwise.”
And with that he left her.
Vronsky knew that further efforts were useless, and that he had to
spend these few days in Petersburg as though in a strange town,
avoiding every sort of relation with his own old circle in order not to
be exposed to the annoyances and humiliations which were so intolerable
to him. One of the most unpleasant features of his position in
Petersburg was that Alexey Alexandrovitch and his name seemed to meet
him everywhere. He could not begin to talk of anything without the
conversation turning on Alexey Alexandrovitch; he could not go anywhere
without risk of meeting him. So at least it seemed to Vronsky, just as
it seems to a man with a sore finger that he is continually, as though
on purpose, grazing his sore finger on everything.
Their stay in Petersburg was the more painful to Vronsky that he
perceived all the time a sort of new mood that he could not understand
in Anna. At one time she would seem in love with him, and then she
would become cold, irritable, and impenetrable. She was worrying over
something, and keeping something back from him, and did not seem to
notice the humiliations which poisoned his existence, and for her, with
her delicate intuition, must have been still more unbearable.
