His attitude to the husband was the clearest of all.
From the moment that Anna loved Vronsky, he had regarded his own right over her as the one thing unassailable.
Her husband was simply a superfluous and tiresome person.
No doubt he was in a pitiable position, but how could that be helped?
The one thing the husband had a right to was to demand satisfaction with a weapon in his hand, and Vronsky was prepared for this at any minute.
But of late new inner relations had arisen between him and her, which frightened Vronsky by their indefiniteness.
Only the day before she had told him that she was with child.
And he felt that this fact and what she expected of him called for something not fully defined in that code of principles by which he had hitherto steered his course in life.
And he had been indeed caught unawares, and at the first moment when she spoke to him of her position, his heart had prompted him to beg her to leave her husband.
He had said that, but now thinking things over he saw clearly that it would be better to manage to avoid that; and at the same time, as he told himself so, he was afraid whether it was not wrong.
"If I told her to leave her husband, that must mean uniting her life with mine; am I prepared for that?
How can I take her away now, when I have no money?
Supposing I could arrange....
But how can I take her away while I'm in the service?
If I say that--I ought to be prepared to do it, that is, I ought to have the money and to retire from the army."
And he grew thoughtful.
The question whether to retire from the service or not brought him to the other and perhaps the chief though hidden interest of his life, of which none knew but he.
Ambition was the old dream of his youth and childhood, a dream which he did not confess even to himself, though it was so strong that now this passion was even doing battle with his love.
His first steps in the world and in the service had been successful, but two years before he had made a great mistake.
Anxious to show his independence and to advance, he had refused a post that had been offered him, hoping that this refusal would heighten his value; but it turned out that he had been too bold, and he was passed over. And having, whether he liked or not, taken up for himself the position of an independent man, he carried it off with great tact and good sense, behaving as though he bore no grudge against anyone, did not regard himself as injured in any way, and cared for nothing but to be left alone since he was enjoying himself.
In reality he had ceased to enjoy himself as long ago as the year before, when he went away to Moscow.
He felt that this independent attitude of a man who might have done anything, but cared to do nothing, was already beginning to pall, that many people were beginning to fancy that he was not really capable of anything but being a straightforward, good-natured fellow.
His connection with Madame Karenina, by creating so much sensation and attracting general attention, had given him a fresh distinction which soothed his gnawing worm of ambition for a while, but a week before that worm had been roused up again with fresh force.
The friend of his childhood, a man of the same set, of the same coterie, his comrade in the Corps of Pages, Serpuhovskoy, who had left school with him and had been his rival in class, in gymnastics, in their scrapes and their dreams of glory, had come back a few days before from Central Asia, where he had gained two steps up in rank, and an order rarely bestowed upon generals so young.
As soon as he arrived in Petersburg, people began to talk about him as a newly risen star of the first magnitude.
A schoolfellow of Vronsky's and of the same age, he was a general and was expecting a command, which might have influence on the course of political events; while Vronsky, independent and brilliant and beloved by a charming woman though he was, was simply a cavalry captain who was readily allowed to be as independent as ever he liked.
"Of course I don't envy Serpuhovskoy and never could envy him; but his advancement shows me that one has only to watch one's opportunity, and the career of a man like me may be very rapidly made.
Three years ago he was in just the same position as I am.
If I retire, I burn my ships.
If I remain in the army, I lose nothing.
She said herself she did not wish to change her position.
And with her love I cannot feel envious of Serpuhovskoy."
And slowly twirling his mustaches, he got up from the table and walked about the room. His eyes shone particularly brightly, and he felt in that confident, calm, and happy frame of mind which always came after he had thoroughly faced his position.
Everything was straight and clear, just as after former days of reckoning.
He shaved, took a cold bath, dressed and went out.
Chapter 21
"We've come to fetch you.
Your _lessive_ lasted a good time today," said Petritsky.
"Well, is it over?" "It is over," answered Vronsky, smiling with his eyes only, and twirling the tips of his mustaches as circumspectly as though after the perfect order into which his affairs had been brought any over-bold or rapid movement might disturb it.
"You're always just as if you'd come out of a bath after it," said Petritsky.
"I've come from Gritsky's" (that was what they called the colonel); "they're expecting you."
Vronsky, without answering, looked at his comrade, thinking of something else.
"Yes; is that music at his place?" he said, listening to the familiar sounds of polkas and waltzes floating across to him. "What's the fete?"
"Serpuhovskoy's come."
"Aha!" said Vronsky, "why, I didn't know."
The smile in his eyes gleamed more brightly than ever.
Having once made up his mind that he was happy in his love, that he sacrificed his ambition to it--having anyway taken up this position, Vronsky was incapable of feeling either envious of Serpuhovskoy or hurt with him for not coming first to him when he came to the regiment.
Serpuhovskoy was a good friend, and he was delighted he had come.
"Ah, I'm very glad!"
The colonel, Demin, had taken a large country house.