Android Karenina Part 35

"All right; they are dining at home, all three of them."

"Go to that table, and make haste and take a seat," said the prince, and turning away he carefully took a plate of eel soup.

Konstantin Dmitrich sat, and an irritated-looking young peasant brought a bowl of soup, carelessly slos.h.i.+ng the hot liquid over the sides and into Levin's lap. He grimaced in pain and annoyance; the perfect, gyroscopically maintained balance of a Cla.s.s II waiter would never make such a careless error.

But the others only laughed at the accident, and Levin realized that the view held by those in the club-or, at least, the view loudly expressed by those who wanted to be heard saying the right sorts of things-was very different than his own. It was agreed at every table that Russian life had been much improved improved by the disappearance of those "pesky" robots, always motoring about underfoot, making one feel self-conscious and intruded upon, their circuits forever buzzing and whirring away. by the disappearance of those "pesky" robots, always motoring about underfoot, making one feel self-conscious and intruded upon, their circuits forever buzzing and whirring away.

"To humanity!" said the prince, and raised his gla.s.s. "To the New Russia!" echoed Sviashky.

"Levin, this way!" a good-natured voice shouted a little farther on. It was Turovtsin. He was sitting with a young officer, and beside them were two chairs turned upside down. Levin gladly went up to them. He had always liked the good-hearted rake, Turovtsin, and at that moment, after the strain of intellectual conversation, the sight of Turovtsin's good-natured face was particularly welcome.

And maybe . . . Levin narrowed his eyes and felt his heart pounding in his chest . . .

With exaggerated casualness, Levin smoothed his beard and approached his old friend with an easy smile. Pulling his chair close to the other man's, breathing hotly into Turovtsin's ear, he murmured a single word: "Rearguard."

"Eh?" responded Turovtsin loudly, his eyes lighting up. Levin's heart beat faster; his blood roared in his ears. Could it be Turovtsin? Did he share in the Golden Hope? Who would have thought it was foolish Turovtsin?

"Rearguard?" repeated Turovtsin, but loudly, his eyes glittering with antic.i.p.atory merriment in his eyes, as if awaiting the punchline.

Levin drew back, stammering. "Ah . . . I thought . . . but, never mind, never mind. I said nothing."

"Oh, well," said Turovtsin. "Here, then." He handed Levin a pair of gla.s.ses. "For you and Oblonsky. He'll be here directly. Ah, here he is!"

"Have you only just come?" said Oblonsky, coming quickly toward them. "Good day. Had some vodka? Well, come along then."

Levin, with difficulty hiding his disappointment, got up and went with him to the big table spread with spirits and appetizers of the most various kinds. One would have thought that out of two dozen delicacies one might find something to one's taste, but Stepan Arkadyich asked for something special, and the tetchy adolescent waiter trudged back into the kitchen to search it out. They drank a gla.s.s of wine and returned to their table.

"Ah! And here they are!" Stepan Arkadyich said toward the end of dinner, leaning over the back of his chair and holding out his hand to Vronsky, who came up with a tall officer of the Guards.

Vronsky's face, too, beamed with the look of good-humored enjoyment that was general in the club. He propped his elbow playfully on Stepan Arkadyich's shoulder, whispering something to him, and he held out his hand to Levin with the same good-humored smile.

"Very glad to see you," he said, and then added with a wink-or at least, what Levin thought was a wink-"It has been a long time."

"Yes, yes," said Levin. In the next moment, a roar of laughter convulsed the table, as Oblonsky described the old slop-slinging peasant who'd replaced the household II/Cook/98. Levin judged that his moment was ripe. He leaned forward, and, laying one hand on the upper part of Vronsky's arm, whispered the code word both men had heard together from Federov.

"Rearguard."

For a long moment, the word seemed to s.h.i.+mmer in the air between them, while Levin sought a sign of life in the impa.s.sive face across from his. But the count did not whisper "Action." Instead he laughed genially and meaninglessly, twirled his mustache, and turned away.

Levin turned away as well, his worst suspicions confirmed: the resistance, if there were truly such a thing, could not number Alexei Kirillovich among its ranks.

But what danger did this fact pose to Levin? What should he do? He wished for the means to run a complete a.n.a.lysis of the situation; wished, not for the first or last time, that loyal Socrates were present to give him counsel.

"Well, have we finished?" said Stepan Arkadyich, getting up with a smile. "Let us go."

CHAPTER 3.

OBLONSKY LED THEM like the piper of myth to the gambling tables. I/Dice/55s trembled and bobbled and danced, zipping in algorithmic patterns across the green acetate of the table, randomizing some men into small fortunes, and others into disappointment. Oblonsky himself was of the fortunate group, to his great delight. "Perhaps Small Stiva was bad luck to me for all those years!" he decreed jovially, provoking great merriment in his fellow gamblers, and naught but melancholy disdain in Levin. like the piper of myth to the gambling tables. I/Dice/55s trembled and bobbled and danced, zipping in algorithmic patterns across the green acetate of the table, randomizing some men into small fortunes, and others into disappointment. Oblonsky himself was of the fortunate group, to his great delight. "Perhaps Small Stiva was bad luck to me for all those years!" he decreed jovially, provoking great merriment in his fellow gamblers, and naught but melancholy disdain in Levin.

Oblonsky had again clutched the I/Dice/55s in his fist, hoping to add further to his fast-growing pile of rubles, when a crowd of thin, high-cheeked men-who-were-not-men strode purposefully into the room.

"Ah!" said Stepan Arkadyich, only the tiniest flutter of fear rippling his habitually good-natured expression. "Gentlemen. Or, rather, gentle-machines, if I may be so bold as to coin a term."

"Might we invite you to join us in our games?" Vronsky ventured.

"To the contrary, your Excellency," said the tallest of the man-machines, who wore what looked like a scruffy two-day growth of beard; Levin marveled in spite of himself at the artistry of it. "We are here to collect these apparatuses."

One of the other Toy Soldiers held out his hand, and Stiva, wide-eyed with astonishment, placed the I/Dice/55 into the lifelike pink of the robot's open palm.

"Now, wait . . . if I might . . . hold on, now . . . ," protested the old prince tremulously. "Is there no place in the New Russia for a bit of friendly gambling?"

"It is not the gambling that is proscribed, gentlemen, it is the technology." The machine-man spoke rapidly. "Russia has her enemies, more now than ever. Enemies above; enemies within. The open distribution of technology is dangerous and can no longer be countenanced."

And the face of the Toy Soldier all at once wavered and blurred, revealing the machinery hiding behind the skin of his face. From where the eye had been, the muzzle of a miniature cannon jutted forth already shooting, and a quick and efficient volley of electric fire blasted the green Cla.s.s I gaming table neatly to ash. The tiny cannon disappeared and the man's face rea.s.sembled itself; he cleared his throat (There is no throat! (There is no throat! Levin adamantly reminded himself, Levin adamantly reminded himself, no throat! no throat!)-and spoke: "I ask that you place your Cla.s.s I devices on the floor before you."

Into a large pile it all went: heirloom I/Hourprotector/ls, I/CigarLighter/4s, I/Bifocal/6s, all the tiny, convenient wonders that had been made possible by groznium technology. All were heaped and vaporized as thoroughly as the gaming table. The Toy Soldiers turned on their black boot heels and departed, leaving in their wake a long, stunned silence, which Stepan Arkadyich filled with a pitiful murmur.

"Such is the price of happiness."

"Yes," said the old prince, shaking his head and wearing no expression. "Such is the price."

Levin, disgusted by the scene, pulled on his coat.

"Levin," said Stepan Arkadyich, and Levin noticed that his eyes were not full of tears exactly, but moist, which always happened when he had been drinking, or when he was moved by emotion. Just now it was due to both causes. "Levin, don't go," he said, and he warmly squeezed his arm above the elbow, obviously not at all wis.h.i.+ng to let him go.

"This is a true friend of mine-almost my greatest friend," he said to Vronsky. It was evident to Levin that Oblonsky, more affected than he could openly admit by the evolution of the New Russia, was casting out for some source of happy feeling to console him. "You have become even closer and dearer to me. And I want you, and I know you ought, to be friends, and great friends, because you're both splendid fellows."

"Well, there's nothing for us now but to kiss and be friends," Vronsky said with good-natured playfulness, holding out his hand, acting as if the only past between them were a long-distant romantic rivalry.

Well, lean pretend as well, thought Levin. He quickly took the offered hand, and pressed it warmly. "I'm very, very glad," he said. thought Levin. He quickly took the offered hand, and pressed it warmly. "I'm very, very glad," he said.

"Do you know, he has never met Anna?" Stepan Arkadyich said to Vronsky. "And I want above everything to take him to see her. Let us go, Levin!"

"Really?" said Vronsky, turning back to the other men, who were busily scouring the cabinets for a set of the old-fas.h.i.+oned wooden dice. "She will be very glad to see you."

CHAPTER 4.

AS THE CARRIAGE DROVE out into the street, Levin felt it jolting over the uneven road, and heard the angry shout of their sledge driver, who had only just learned to drive it, and had nothing like the smooth touch of a II/SledgeDriver/6. Levin saw in the uncertain light the red blind of a tavern and the shops, and began to think over his actions, and to wonder whether he was doing right in going to see Anna. What would Kitty say? But Stepan Arkadyich gave him no time for reflection, and, as though divining his doubts, he scattered them. out into the street, Levin felt it jolting over the uneven road, and heard the angry shout of their sledge driver, who had only just learned to drive it, and had nothing like the smooth touch of a II/SledgeDriver/6. Levin saw in the uncertain light the red blind of a tavern and the shops, and began to think over his actions, and to wonder whether he was doing right in going to see Anna. What would Kitty say? But Stepan Arkadyich gave him no time for reflection, and, as though divining his doubts, he scattered them.

"How glad I am," he said, "that you should know her! You know Dolly has long wished for it. And Lvov's been to see her, and often goes. Though she is my sister," Stepan Arkadyich pursued, "I don't hesitate to say that she's a remarkable woman. But you will see. Her position is very painful, especially now."

"Why especially now?"

"Vronsky and Anna have applied to her husband for amnesty and divorce, after their ill-conceived adventure in Vozdvizhenskoe. They have a.s.surances that Karenin has received their request and is considering it, but not a word has yet been heard from that worthy. And so they wait, in rather exquisite agony, for a reply. As soon as the divorce is over, she will marry Vronsky. Well, then their position will be as regular as mine, as yours.

"But the point is she has been for three months in Moscow, where everyone knows her, waiting for some resolution. She goes out nowhere, sees no woman except Dolly, because, do you understand, she doesn't care to have people come as a favor. But you'll see how she has arranged her life-how calm, how dignified she is. To the left, in the crescent opposite the church!" shouted Stepan Arkadyich, leaning out of the window.

"I beg of you not to yell at me!" the red-faced sledge driver implored, nearly banking the carriage as he jerked it into the turn.

The carriage drove into the courtyard, and Stepan Arkadyich rang loudly at the entrance where sledges were standing.

And without asking the hapless servant who opened the door whether the lady was at home, Stepan Arkadyich walked into the hall. Levin followed him, more and more doubtful whether he was doing right or wrong.

Looking at himself in the I/Reflector/9 in the hallway, Levin noticed that he was red in the face, but he felt certain he was not drunk, and he followed Stepan Arkadyich up the carpeted stairs to the study.

Pa.s.sing through the dining room, a room not very large, with dark, paneled walls, Stepan Arkadyich and Levin walked across the soft carpet to the half-dark study, lighted up by a single lumiere lumiere with a big, dark shade. On the wall above was a big full-length portrait of a woman, which Levin could not help looking at. It was the portrait of Anna, painted on the moon by the doomed Mihailov. Levin gazed at the portrait, which stood out from the frame in the brilliant light thrown on it, and he could not tear himself away from it. He positively forgot where he was, and not even hearing what was said, he could not take his eyes off the marvelous portrait. It was not a picture, but a living, charming woman, with black, curling hair, with bare arms and shoulders, with a pensive smile on the lips, covered with soft down; she stood in a confident pose on the arm of a beloved-companion robot, triumphantly and softly looking at him with eyes that baffled him. She was not living only because she was more beautiful than a living woman can be. with a big, dark shade. On the wall above was a big full-length portrait of a woman, which Levin could not help looking at. It was the portrait of Anna, painted on the moon by the doomed Mihailov. Levin gazed at the portrait, which stood out from the frame in the brilliant light thrown on it, and he could not tear himself away from it. He positively forgot where he was, and not even hearing what was said, he could not take his eyes off the marvelous portrait. It was not a picture, but a living, charming woman, with black, curling hair, with bare arms and shoulders, with a pensive smile on the lips, covered with soft down; she stood in a confident pose on the arm of a beloved-companion robot, triumphantly and softly looking at him with eyes that baffled him. She was not living only because she was more beautiful than a living woman can be.

"I am delighted!" He heard suddenly near him a voice, unmistakably addressing him, the voice of the very woman he had been admiring in the portrait. Anna had come from behind the treillage to meet him, and Levin saw in the dim light of the study the very woman of the portrait, in a dark-blue short gown, not in the same position, nor with the same expression, but with the same perfection of beauty which the artist had caught in the portrait. She was less dazzling in reality, but of course in the picture she had the advantage of the radiant backlight cast by a Cla.s.s III. Now, in person, and in the New Russia, that enhancement was sadly lacking.

CHAPTER 5.

SHE HAD RISEN to meet him, not concealing her pleasure at seeing him. to meet him, not concealing her pleasure at seeing him.

"You will excuse me for being ill at ease," Anna began. "I neither look nor feel myself since I have lost the company of my beloved-companion, Android Karenina."

Levin smiled with pleasure at her unexpected forthrightness: how refres.h.i.+ng to hear someone speak openly of the great collective loss the Russian people had suffered.

"I am delighted, delighted," she went on, and upon her lips these simple words took for Levin's ears a special significance. "I have known you and liked you for a long while, both from your friends.h.i.+p with Stiva and for your wife's sake. . . . I knew her for a very short time, but she left on me the impression of an exquisite flower, simply a flower. And to think she will soon be a mother!"

She spoke easily and without haste, looking now and then from Levin to her brother, and Levin felt that the impression he was making was good, and he felt immediately at home, simple and happy with her, as though he had known her from childhood.

"I am settled in Alexei's study," she said in answer to Stepan Arkadyich's question whether he might smoke, "just so as to be able to smoke"-and glancing at Levin, instead of asking whether he would smoke, she pulled closer a I/CigarCase/6 and activated herself a cigarette.

"Enjoy such luxury while you can, Anna," her brother said. "Cla.s.s Ones are now added to the list."

"You jest!"

"Alas, I do not. Ours were junkered only hours ago at the club, by one of those lifelike friends of ours."

Anna gritted her teeth, as if to say, I shall accept the New Russia-indeed I must-but I cannot be forced to like it. I shall accept the New Russia-indeed I must-but I cannot be forced to like it.

Yes, yes, this is a woman! Levin thought, forgetting himself and staring persistently at her lovely, mobile face, which at that moment was all at once completely transformed. Levin did not hear what she was talking of as she leaned over to her brother, but he was struck by the change of her expression. Her face-so handsome a moment before in its repose-suddenly wore a look of strange curiosity, anger, and pride. But this lasted only an instant. She dropped her eyelids, as though recollecting something. Levin thought, forgetting himself and staring persistently at her lovely, mobile face, which at that moment was all at once completely transformed. Levin did not hear what she was talking of as she leaned over to her brother, but he was struck by the change of her expression. Her face-so handsome a moment before in its repose-suddenly wore a look of strange curiosity, anger, and pride. But this lasted only an instant. She dropped her eyelids, as though recollecting something.

And Levin saw a new trait in this woman, who attracted him so extraordinarily. Besides wit, grace, and beauty, she had truth. She had no wish to hide from him all the bitterness of her position. She sighed, and her face suddenly took a hard expression, looking as if it were turned to stone. With that expression on her face she was more beautiful than ever; but the expression was new; it was utterly unlike that expression, radiant with happiness and creating happiness, which had been caught by the painter in her portrait. Levin looked more than once at the portrait and at her figure, as taking her brother's arm she walked with him to the high doors, and he felt for her a tenderness and pity at which he wondered himself.

In the next moment, this wonderment translated itself into action. When Stiva went out of the room a few steps ahead of Levin, before he could stop to think, he stopped at the doorframe, turned back to Anna, and whispered, urgently and impetuously: "Rearguard."

Neither smiling nor frowning, she leaned slightly forward in her chair and replied: "Action."

They both stared at the other for a long moment.

"Well, good-bye," Anna said at last, rising to take his hand and glancing into his face with a winning look. "I am very glad que la glace est rompue." que la glace est rompue."

She dropped his hand, and half closed her eyes.

"Tell your wife that I love her as before, and that if she cannot pardon me my position, then my wish for her is that she may never pardon it. To pardon it, one must go through what I have gone through, and may G.o.d spare her that."

"Certainly, yes, I will tell her. . . ." Levin said, blus.h.i.+ng. "And . . . but . . ."

"Goodnight," said Anna Arkadyevna with finality.

CHAPTER 6.

WELL, DIDN'T I TELL YOU?" said Stepan Arkadyich, seeing that Levin had been completely won over. said Stepan Arkadyich, seeing that Levin had been completely won over.

"Yes," said Levin dreamily, his mind racing with thoughts of Anna Karenina and the Golden Hope. "An extraordinary woman! It's not her cleverness, but she has such depth of feeling. I'm awfully sorry for her!"

"Now, please G.o.d, everything will soon be settled. Well, well, don't be hard on people in the future," said Stepan Arkadyich, opening the carriage door. "Good-bye; we don't go the same way."

Still thinking of Anna, of everything, even the simplest phrase in their conversation with her, and recalling the minutest changes in her expression, entering more and more into her position, and feeling sympathy for her, Levin traveled home.

All the way there, he reeled with excitement, and in particular with antic.i.p.ation of sharing with Kitty what he had learned: that Anna Karenina, despite the abandonment of Vozdvizhenskoe and the junker army, despite their return to Moscow and the pet.i.tion to Karenin, remained in her heart a partisan.

What Levin did not know, what he could not know, was that Vronsky had never told Anna Karenina the code words. On returning home from the Huntshed, he had given her the barest outline of his meeting with Federov, but then they had pa.s.sed into argument, and from there to reconciliation, and that reconciliation had led them back to Moscow.

Never had he told her of Federov's dying exhortation; never had he mentioned the words rearguard rearguard or or action action at all. at all.

Somehow, Anna knew the words anyway.

At home their new servant, a man named Kouzma, told Levin that Katerina Alexandrovna was quite well, and that her sisters had not long been gone, and then handed him a neatly folded piece of paper. This was a "letter," an old-fas.h.i.+oned means of information transmission in which the correspondent commits his thoughts to paper with pen and ink-along with "books" and "newspapers," it had come back into vogue since the disappearance of monitor-and-communique monitor-and-communique technology. Levin read the letter at once in the hall, and found it was from Sokolov, his bailiff. Sokolov wrote that the latest gleanings from the pit were faulty, that it was fetching only five and a half rubles, and that more than that could not be got for it. Levin scowled. He had been forced, like all other groznium miners, to hire human beings to administer his land in his absence, and they were terrible at it. technology. Levin read the letter at once in the hall, and found it was from Sokolov, his bailiff. Sokolov wrote that the latest gleanings from the pit were faulty, that it was fetching only five and a half rubles, and that more than that could not be got for it. Levin scowled. He had been forced, like all other groznium miners, to hire human beings to administer his land in his absence, and they were terrible at it.

Levin found his wife low-spirited and dull. The dinner of the three sisters had gone off very well, but then they had waited and waited for him, all of them had felt dull, the sisters had departed, and she had been left alone.