“I’ll have to remember that,” Aurelia said drily as she continued paging through the book.
Vronsky thrust out his hand again, pointing to the tops of the pages.
“What have you done there?Why have you folded the corners of those pages?”
“I do that when there’s a phrase or a description I like.Let me see.”
Aurelia paused on one of the dog-eared pages and scanned it.
“Here it is.This is about Levin.‘He became aware of something new in his soul, and took pleasure in testing this new thing, without yet knowing what it was.’”Aurelia looked up.“Isn’t that beautiful?”
Vronsky wrinkled his nose in distaste.“Levin is an odd figure.I find it difficult to imagine him doing anything one might describe as ‘beautiful.’”
“He’s a wonderful character—or person,” Aurelia corrected herself.“He’s shy and unsure of himself in social situations—very unlike you—but he’s got a big heart.”
“Perhaps.I have only met him a few times, though I did like him a bit better when I met him in Moscow at the club.”
“You might like him more if you spent more time with him.He’s interested in improving the land and the lives of the laborers, and he loves Kitty very much.”
“I know he married her—does he really love her, then?”
His curiosity confused her until she remembered that, unlike readers of his book, Vronsky didn’t know anything about Levin’s inner life.
“The novel is half his and Kitty’s story, and half yours and Anna’s.I thought you might know about his chapters, but… Do you not know the whole story?”
“I know what happened to me—that seems to me tobethe whole story.Are you telling me that Tolstoy wasted half the book on Levin?”
“‘Wasted’ isn’t a fair description,” Aurelia said peevishly.She liked Levin, even if she, too, thought was a little foolish at times.“Levin’s story balances yours.Your stories are like two different sides of a coin.”
“Hmm… Perhaps he would be a good foil for me.We are rather opposite ends of a spectrum.”He gave her a stern look and added, “I am on the upper end of the spectrum, obviously.”
“Oh yes, obviously.”Aurelia gave him a teasing smile, which Vronsky returned.
“Then I would like to read my book.I should like to know what makes Levin so fascinating.”
Vronsky walked closer to the book and reached for it, forgetting that his hand would, as it did then, pass through it.
“That is inconvenient,” he mused.“Well, then, you must read it to me, since I cannot hold the book.Or perhaps you might simply turn the pages and I can read it myself.”
He looked at her expectantly, as if she would help him to start reading immediately.
“I… I don’t think we have time for that tonight, Alexei.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, hoping he’d accept her dodge.There were passages he would undoubtedly find difficult, particularly toward the end, when Anna spun into depression and jealousy.Some things might help—moments of Anna loving him and thinking fondly of him—but others might break him.
“I’ve set us off course.Where were we?”Aurelia said as she flipped through the pages of the book again and found the last chapter where Vronsky made an appearance.“Okay, here it is.You were on a train, heading off to fight in the Serbian War, which”—she flipped to the very last pages of the book—“based on an endnote, took place around 1876.Does that ring a bell?”
“Yes, that is right.”
“So: what do you remember?”
Aurelia held her breath, hoping her attempt to distract him would work.
“I am traveling with my mother, and we are surrounded by volunteer infantrymen and well-wishers.I remember speaking with Sergey Ivanovich on the platform before continuing on my journey.”
She let out a relieved breath.Looking at the final pages, she saw that he had a heartfelt conversation with Ivanovich, where he reflected on having lost Anna just two months earlier.Seeming to sense her thoughts, or perhaps just recalling the events from his own memory, Vronsky grew still.
“It is a trying time for me.”
