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Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, Part 7. Chapter 30.

Part 7. Chapter 30.

"Here it is again! Again I understand it all!" Anna said to herself, as soon as the carriage had started and swaying lightly, rumbled over the tiny cobbles of the paved road, and again one impression followed rapidly upon another.

"Yes; what was the last thing I thought of so clearly?" she tried to recall it. " 'Tiutkin, coiffeur?' —no, not that. Yes, of what Yashvin says, the struggle for existence and hatred is the one thing that holds men together. No, it's a useless journey you're making," she said, mentally addressing a party in a coach and four, evidently going for an excursion into the country. "And the dog you're taking with you will be no help to you. You can't get away from yourselves." Turning her eyes in the direction Pyotr had turned to look, she saw a factory hand almost dead drunk, with hanging head, being led away by a policeman. "Come, he's found a quicker way," she thought. "Count Vronsky and I did not find that happiness either, though we expected so much from it." And now for the first time Anna turned that glaring light in which she was seeing everything on to her relations with him, which she had hitherto avoided thinking about. "What was it he sought in me? Not love so much as the satisfaction of vanity." She remembered his words, the expression of his face, that recalled an abject setter-dog, in the early days of their connection. And everything now confirmed this. "Yes, there was the triumph of success in him. Of course there was love too, but the chief element was the pride of success. He boasted of me. Now that's over. There's nothing to be proud of. Not to be proud of, but to be ashamed of. He has taken from me all he could, and now I am no use to him. He is weary of me and is trying not to be dishonorable in his behavior to me. He let that out yesterday—he wants divorce and marriage so as to burn his ships. He loves me, but how? The zest is gone, as the English say. That fellow wants everyone to admire him and is very much pleased with himself," she thought, looking at a red-faced clerk, riding on a riding school horse. "Yes, there's not the same flavor about me for him now. If I go away from him, at the bottom of his heart he will be glad." This was not mere supposition, she saw it distinctly in the piercing light, which revealed to her now the meaning of life and human relations.

"My love keeps growing more passionate and egoistic, while his is waning and waning, and that's why we're drifting apart." She went on musing. "And there's no help for it. He is everything for me, and I want him more and more to give himself up to me entirely. And he wants more and more to get away from me. We walked to meet each other up to the time of our love, and then we have been irresistibly drifting in different directions. And there's no altering that. He tells me I'm insanely jealous, and I have told myself that I am insanely jealous; but it's not true. I'm not jealous, but I'm unsatisfied. But…" she opened her lips, and shifted her place in the carriage in the excitement, aroused by the thought that suddenly struck her. "If I could be anything but a mistress, passionately caring for nothing but his caresses; but I can't and I don't care to be anything else. And by that desire I rouse aversion in him, and he rouses fury in me, and it cannot be different. Don't I know that he wouldn't deceive me, that he has no schemes about Princess Sorokina, that he's not in love with Kitty, that he won't desert me! I know all that, but it makes it no better for me. If without loving me, from duty he'll be good and kind to me, without what I want, that's a thousand times worse than unkindness! That's—hell! And that's just how it is. For a long while now he hasn't loved me. And where love ends, hate begins. I don't know these streets at all. Hills it seems, and still houses, and houses …. And in the houses always people and people…. How many of them, no end, and all hating each other! Come, let me try and think what I want, to make me happy. Well? Suppose I am divorced, and Alexey Alexandrovitch lets me have Seryozha, and I marry Vronsky." Thinking of Alexey Alexandrovitch, she at once pictured him with extraordinary vividness as though he were alive before her, with his mild, lifeless, dull eyes, the blue veins in his white hands, his intonations and the cracking of his fingers, and remembering the feeling which had existed between them, and which was also called love, she shuddered with loathing. "Well, I'm divorced, and become Vronsky's wife. Well, will Kitty cease looking at me as she looked at me today? No. And will Seryozha leave off asking and wondering about my two husbands? And is there any new feeling I can awaken between Vronsky and me? Is there possible, if not happiness, some sort of ease from misery? No, no!" she answered now without the slightest hesitation. "Impossible! We are drawn apart by life, and I make his unhappiness, and he mine, and there's no altering him or me. Every attempt has been made, the screw has come unscrewed. Oh, a beggar woman with a baby. She thinks I'm sorry for her. Aren't we all flung into the world only to hate each other, and so to torture ourselves and each other? Schoolboys coming—laughing Seryozha?" she thought. "I thought, too, that I loved him, and used to be touched by my own tenderness. But I have lived without him, I gave him up for another love, and did not regret the exchange till that love was satisfied." And with loathing she thought of what she meant by that love. And the clearness with which she saw life now, her own and all men's, was a pleasure to her. "It's so with me and Pyotr, and the coachman, Fyodor, and that merchant, and all the people living along the Volga, where those placards invite one to go, and everywhere and always," she thought when she had driven under the low-pitched roof of the Nizhigorod station, and the porters ran to meet her. "A ticket to Obiralovka?" said Pyotr.

She had utterly forgotten where and why she was going, and only by a great effort she understood the question.

"Yes," she said, handing him her purse, and taking a little red bag in her hand, she got out of the carriage. Making her way through the crowd to the first-class waiting-room, she gradually recollected all the details of her position, and the plans between which she was hesitating. And again at the old sore places, hope and then despair poisoned the wounds of her tortured, fearfully throbbing heart. As she sat on the star-shaped sofa waiting for the train, she gazed with aversion at the people coming and going (they were all hateful to her), and thought how she would arrive at the station, would write him a note, and what she would write to him, and how he was at this moment complaining to his mother of his position, not understanding her sufferings, and how she would go into the room, and what she would say to him. Then she thought that life might still be happy, and how miserably she loved and hated him, and how fearfully her heart was beating.

Part 7. Chapter 30.

"Here it is again! "Le voici encore! Again I understand it all!" Anna said to herself, as soon as the carriage had started and swaying lightly, rumbled over the tiny cobbles of the paved road, and again one impression followed rapidly upon another. Anna se dit, dès que la voiture eut démarré et se balança légèrement, gronda sur les petits pavés de la route goudronnée, et de nouveau une impression se succéda rapidement.

"Yes; what was the last thing I thought of so clearly?" she tried to recall it. " 'Tiutkin, coiffeur?' —no, not that. Yes, of what Yashvin says, the struggle for existence and hatred is the one thing that holds men together. No, it's a useless journey you're making," she said, mentally addressing a party in a coach and four, evidently going for an excursion into the country. Non, c'est un voyage inutile que vous faites », dit-elle, s'adressant mentalement à une fête dans un autocar et quatre, partant évidemment pour une excursion dans le pays. "And the dog you're taking with you will be no help to you. You can't get away from yourselves." Vous ne pouvez pas vous éloigner de vous. " Negalite pabėgti nuo savęs “. Turning her eyes in the direction Pyotr had turned to look, she saw a factory hand almost dead drunk, with hanging head, being led away by a policeman. Tournant les yeux dans la direction que Piotr s'était tournée pour regarder, elle vit une main d'usine presque ivre, la tête pendante, emmenée par un policier. Nukreipusi akis ta kryptimi, į kurią Pjotras pasuko, ji pamatė, kaip fabriko ranką beveik mirusią girtą, kabančią galvą nuveda policininkas. "Come, he's found a quicker way," she thought. "Count Vronsky and I did not find that happiness either, though we expected so much from it." - Mes ir grafas Vronsky neradome tos laimės, nors iš jos tiek daug tikėjomės. And now for the first time Anna turned that glaring light in which she was seeing everything on to her relations with him, which she had hitherto avoided thinking about. Et maintenant, pour la première fois, Anna a tourné cette lumière éblouissante dans laquelle elle voyait tout sur ses relations avec lui, auxquelles elle avait jusqu'alors évité de penser. "What was it he sought in me? «Qu'est-ce qu'il cherchait en moi? Not love so much as the satisfaction of vanity." She remembered his words, the expression of his face, that recalled an abject setter-dog, in the early days of their connection. Elle se souvint de ses paroles, de l'expression de son visage, qui rappelaient un chien-setter abject, dans les premiers jours de leur connexion. And everything now confirmed this. "Yes, there was the triumph of success in him. Of course there was love too, but the chief element was the pride of success. He boasted of me. Now that's over. There's nothing to be proud of. Not to be proud of, but to be ashamed of. He has taken from me all he could, and now I am no use to him. He is weary of me and is trying not to be dishonorable in his behavior to me. He let that out yesterday—he wants divorce and marriage so as to burn his ships. Il a laissé échapper cela hier - il veut le divorce et le mariage pour brûler ses navires. Vakar jis tai leido - jis nori skyrybų ir vedybų, kad sudegintų jo laivus. He loves me, but how? The zest is gone, as the English say. That fellow wants everyone to admire him and is very much pleased with himself," she thought, looking at a red-faced clerk, riding on a riding school horse. Ce type veut que tout le monde l'admire et est très content de lui-même », pensa-t-elle en regardant un commis au visage rouge, monté sur un cheval de manège. "Yes, there's not the same flavor about me for him now. If I go away from him, at the bottom of his heart he will be glad." This was not mere supposition, she saw it distinctly in the piercing light, which revealed to her now the meaning of life and human relations.

"My love keeps growing more passionate and egoistic, while his is waning and waning, and that's why we're drifting apart." «Mon amour ne cesse de croître de plus en plus passionné et égoïste, tandis que le sien décroît et diminue, et c'est pourquoi nous nous séparons. She went on musing. "And there's no help for it. "Et il n'y a aucune aide pour cela. He is everything for me, and I want him more and more to give himself up to me entirely. Il est tout pour moi, et je veux de plus en plus qu'il se livre à moi entièrement. And he wants more and more to get away from me. We walked to meet each other up to the time of our love, and then we have been irresistibly drifting in different directions. Nous avons marché pour nous rencontrer jusqu'au moment de notre amour, puis nous avons dérivé irrésistiblement dans des directions différentes. And there's no altering that. Et il n'y a pas de changement à cela. He tells me I'm insanely jealous, and I have told myself that I am insanely jealous; but it's not true. I'm not jealous, but I'm unsatisfied. But…" she opened her lips, and shifted her place in the carriage in the excitement, aroused by the thought that suddenly struck her. "If I could be anything but a mistress, passionately caring for nothing but his caresses; but I can't and I don't care to be anything else. «Si je pouvais être autre chose qu'une maîtresse, ne me souciant passionnément que de ses caresses, mais je ne peux pas et je m'en fiche d'être autre chose. And by that desire I rouse aversion in him, and he rouses fury in me, and it cannot be different. Et par ce désir, je suscite l'aversion en lui, et il suscite la fureur en moi, et il ne peut en être autrement. Don't I know that he wouldn't deceive me, that he has no schemes about Princess Sorokina, that he's not in love with Kitty, that he won't desert me! Ne sais-je pas qu'il ne me tromperait pas, qu'il n'a aucun stratagème sur la princesse Sorokina, qu'il n'est pas amoureux de Kitty, qu'il ne m'abandonnera pas! I know all that, but it makes it no better for me. If without loving me, from duty he'll be good and kind to me, without what I want, that's a thousand times worse than unkindness! Si sans m'aimer, par devoir il sera bon et gentil avec moi, sans ce que je veux, c'est mille fois pire que la méchanceté! That's—hell! And that's just how it is. For a long while now he hasn't loved me. And where love ends, hate begins. I don't know these streets at all. Hills it seems, and still houses, and houses …. And in the houses always people and people…. How many of them, no end, and all hating each other! Come, let me try and think what I want, to make me happy. Well? Suppose I am divorced, and Alexey Alexandrovitch lets me have Seryozha, and I marry Vronsky." Thinking of Alexey Alexandrovitch, she at once pictured him with extraordinary vividness as though he were alive before her, with his mild, lifeless, dull eyes, the blue veins in his white hands, his intonations and the cracking of his fingers, and remembering the feeling which had existed between them, and which was also called love, she shuddered with loathing. "Well, I'm divorced, and become Vronsky's wife. Well, will Kitty cease looking at me as she looked at me today? No. And will Seryozha leave off asking and wondering about my two husbands? Et Seryozha cessera-t-elle de poser des questions et de s'interroger sur mes deux maris? O ar Seryozha atsisakys klausinėti ir domėtis apie du mano vyrus? And is there any new feeling I can awaken between Vronsky and me? Is there possible, if not happiness, some sort of ease from misery? No, no!" she answered now without the slightest hesitation. "Impossible! We are drawn apart by life, and I make his unhappiness, and he mine, and there's no altering him or me. Nous sommes séparés par la vie, et je fais de son malheur, et de lui le mien, et rien ne peut le changer ni moi. Every attempt has been made, the screw has come unscrewed. Chaque tentative a été faite, la vis s'est dévissée. Oh, a beggar woman with a baby. She thinks I'm sorry for her. Aren't we all flung into the world only to hate each other, and so to torture ourselves and each other? Ne sommes-nous pas tous jetés dans le monde uniquement pour nous détester, et ainsi nous torturer nous-mêmes et les uns les autres? Schoolboys coming—laughing Seryozha?" Ateina moksleiviai - juokiasi Serjoža? " she thought. "I thought, too, that I loved him, and used to be touched by my own tenderness. But I have lived without him, I gave him up for another love, and did not regret the exchange till that love was satisfied." And with loathing she thought of what she meant by that love. Et avec dégoût, elle pensa à ce qu'elle entendait par cet amour. And the clearness with which she saw life now, her own and all men's, was a pleasure to her. "It's so with me and Pyotr, and the coachman, Fyodor, and that merchant, and all the people living along the Volga, where those placards invite one to go, and everywhere and always," she thought when she had driven under the low-pitched roof of the Nizhigorod station, and the porters ran to meet her. «Il en est de même pour moi et Piotr, et le cocher, Fyodor, et ce marchand, et tous les gens qui vivent le long de la Volga, là où ces pancartes invitent à aller, et partout et toujours», pensa-t-elle quand elle avait conduit sous le bas - toit incliné de la gare de Nizhigorod, et les porteurs coururent à sa rencontre. "A ticket to Obiralovka?" said Pyotr.

She had utterly forgotten where and why she was going, and only by a great effort she understood the question.

"Yes," she said, handing him her purse, and taking a little red bag in her hand, she got out of the carriage. Making her way through the crowd to the first-class waiting-room, she gradually recollected all the details of her position, and the plans between which she was hesitating. And again at the old sore places, hope and then despair poisoned the wounds of her tortured, fearfully throbbing heart. Et encore dans les vieux endroits douloureux, l'espoir puis le désespoir ont empoisonné les blessures de son cœur torturé et terriblement palpitant. As she sat on the star-shaped sofa waiting for the train, she gazed with aversion at the people coming and going (they were all hateful to her), and thought how she would arrive at the station, would write him a note, and what she would write to him, and how he was at this moment complaining to his mother of his position, not understanding her sufferings, and how she would go into the room, and what she would say to him. Alors qu'elle était assise sur le canapé en forme d'étoile attendant le train, elle regardait avec aversion les gens qui allaient et venaient (ils lui étaient tous haineux), et pensait comment elle arriverait à la gare, lui écrirait un mot, et ce qu'elle lui écrirait, et comment il se plaignait en ce moment à sa mère de sa situation, ne comprenant pas ses souffrances, et comment elle entrerait dans la chambre, et ce qu'elle lui dirait. Then she thought that life might still be happy, and how miserably she loved and hated him, and how fearfully her heart was beating. Puis elle pensa que la vie pouvait encore être heureuse, à quel point elle l'aimait et le haïssait misérablement, et à quel point son cœur battait terriblement.