In that box on the left were the Kartassovs. Vronsky knew them, and knew that Anna was acquainted with them. Madame Kartassova, a thin little woman, was standing up in her box, and, her back turned upon Anna, she was putting on a mantle that her husband was holding for her. Her face was pale and angry, and she was talking excitedly. Kartassov, a fat, bald man, was continually looking round at Anna, while he attempted to soothe his wife. When the wife had gone out, the husband lingered a long while, and tried to catch Anna's eye, obviously anxious to bow to her. But Anna, with unmistakable intention, avoided noticing him, and talked to Iashvin, whose cropped head was bent down to her. Kartassov went out without making his salutation, and the box was left empty.
Vronsky could not understand exactly what had passed between the Kartassovs and Anna, but he saw that something humiliating for Anna had happened. He knew this both from what he had seen, and most of all from the face of Anna, who, he could see, was taxing every nerve to carry through the part she had taken up. And in maintaining this attitude of external composure she was completely successful. Anyone who did not know her and her circle, who had not heard all the utterances of the women expressive of commiseration, indignation and amazement, that she should show herself in society, and show herself so conspicuously with her lace and her beauty, would have admired the serenity and loveliness of this woman without a suspicion that she was undergoing the sensations of a man in the stocks.
Knowing that something had happened, but not knowing precisely what, Vronsky felt a thrill of agonizing anxiety, and hoping to find out something, he went toward his brother's box. Purposely choosing the way round farthest from Anna's box, he jostled as he came out against the colonel of his old regiment, talking to two acquaintances. Vronsky heard the name of Karenin, and noticed how the colonel hastened to address Vronsky loudly by name, with a meaning glance at his companions.
`Ah, Vronsky! When are you coming to the regiment? We can't let you off without a supper. You're our - one of the most thorough,' said the colonel of his regiment.
`I can't stop, awfully sorry, another time,' said Vronsky, and he ran upstairs toward his brother's box.
The old countess, Vronsky's mother, with her steel-gray curls, was in his brother's box. Varia with the young Princess Sorokina met him in the corridor.
Leaving the Princess Sorokina with her mother, Varia held out her hand to her brother-in-law, and began immediately to speak of what interested him. She was more excited than he had ever seen her.
`I think it's mean and hateful, and Madame Kartassova had no right to do it. Madame Karenina...' she began.
`But what is it? I don't know.'
`What? You haven't heard?'
`You know I should be the last person to hear of it.'
`There isn't a more spiteful creature than that Madame Kartassova!'
`But what did she do?'
`My husband told me.... She has insulted Madame Karenina. Her husband began talking to her across the box, and Madame Kartassova made a scene. She said something aloud, they say, something insulting, and went away.'
`Count, your maman is asking for you,' said the young Princess Sorokina, peeping out of the door of the box.
`I've been expecting you all the while,' said his mother, smiling sarcastically. `You were nowhere to be seen.'
Her son saw that she could not suppress a smile of delight.
`Good evening, maman . I have come to you,' he said coldly.
`Why aren't you going to faire la cour à Madame Karenina ?'
she went on, when Princess Sorokina had moved away. ` Elle fait sensation.
On oublie la Patti pour elle .'
` Maman , I have asked you not to say anything to me of that,'
he answered, scowling.
`I'm only saying what everyone's saying.'
Vronsky made no reply, and saying a few words to Princess Sorokina, he went away. At the door he met his brother.
`Ah, Alexei!' said his brother. `How disgusting! Idiot of a woman, nothing else.... I wanted to go straight to her. Let's go together.'
Vronsky did not hear him. With rapid steps he went downstairs;he felt that he must do something, but he did not know what. Anger with her for having put herself and him in such a false position, together with pity for her suffering, filled his heart. He went down, and made straight for Anna's box. At her box stood Stremov, talking to her.
`There are no more tenors. Le moule en est brise !'
Vronsky bowed to her and stopped to greet Stremov.
`You came in late, I think, and have missed the best song,' Anna said to Vronsky, glancing ironically, he thought, at him.
`I am a poor judge of music,' he said, looking sternly at her.
`Like Prince Iashvin,' she said smiling, `who considers that Patti sings too loud. - Thank you,' she said, her little hand in its long glove taking the playbill Vronsky picked up, and suddenly at that instant her lovely face quivered. She got up and went into the interior of the box.
Noticing in the next act that her box was empty, Vronsky, rousing many an indignant `Hush!' in the silent audience, went out in the middle of a solo and drove home.
Anna was already at home. When Vronsky went up to her, she was in the same dress she had worn at the theater. She was sitting in the first armchair against the wall, looking straight before her. She looked at him, and at once resumed her former position.
`Anna,' he said.
`You, you are to blame for everything!' she cried, with tears of despair and hatred in her voice, getting up.
`I begged, I implored you not to go; I knew it would be unpleasant...'
`Unpleasant?' she cried. `Hideous! As long as I live I shall never forget it. She said it was a disgrace to sit beside me.'
`A silly woman's chatter,' he said, `but why risk it, why provoke?...'
`I hate your calm. You ought not to have brought me to this. If you had loved me...'
`Anna! How does the question of my love come in?...'
`Oh, if you loved me, as I love, if you were tortured as I am...'
she said, looking at him with an expression of terror.
He was sorry for her, and angry notwithstanding. He assured her of his love because he saw that this was the only means of soothing her, and he did not reproach her in words, but in his heart he reproached her.
And the asseverations of his love, which seemed to him so trivial that he was ashamed to utter them, she drank in eagerly, and gradually became calmer. The next day, completely reconciled, they left for the country.
