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Updated: May 28, 2025
"No, baroness. I was born a Bohemian, and a Bohemian I shall die." "So much the better, so much the better. Shake hands on it." And the baroness, detaining Vronsky, began telling him, with many jokes, about her last new plans of life, asking his advice. "He persists in refusing to give me a divorce! Well, what am I to do?" What do you advise? Kamerovsky, look after the coffee; it's boiling over.
Baroness Shilton, a friend of Petritsky's, with a rosy little face and flaxen hair, resplendent in a lilac satin gown, and filling the whole room, like a canary, with her Parisian chatter, sat at the round table making coffee. Petritsky, in his overcoat, and the cavalry captain Kamerovsky, in full uniform, probably just come from duty, were sitting each side of her. "Bravo!
I'm an old friend." "You're home after a journey," said the baroness, "so I'm flying. Oh, I'll be off this minute, if I'm in the way." "You're home, wherever you are, baroness," said Vronsky. "How do you do, Kamerovsky?" he added, coldly shaking hands with Kamerovsky. "There, you never know how to say such pretty things," said the baroness, turning to Petritsky. "No; what's that for?
"To be sure, and manage that your hand may not be far from his lips. He'll kiss your hand, and all will end satisfactorily," answered Vronsky. "So at the Francais!" and, with a rustle of her skirts, she vanished. Kamerovsky got up too, and Vronsky, not waiting for him to go, shook hands and went off to his dressing room.
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