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Updated: June 27, 2025
Vronsky's interest in painting and the Middle Ages did not last long. He had enough taste for painting to be unable to finish his picture. The picture came to a standstill. He was vaguely aware that its defects, inconspicuous at first, would be glaring if he were to go on with it.
"I quite understand, and I merely meant to offer you my services," said Sergey Ivanovitch, scanning Vronsky's face, full of unmistakable suffering. "Wouldn't it be of use to you to have a letter to Ristitch to Milan?" "Oh, no!" Vronsky said, seeming to understand him with difficulty. "If you don't mind, let's walk on. It's so stuffy among the carriages. A letter?
And signing each other with the cross, the husband and wife parted with a kiss, feeling that they each remained of their own opinion. The princess had at first been quite certain that that evening had settled Kitty's future, and that there could be no doubt of Vronsky's intentions, but her husband's words had disturbed her.
Vronsky's importance in the story is his importance to Anna, and her view of him is a part of her; and he might be left lightly treated on his own account, the author might be content to indicate him rather summarily, so long as Anna had full attention.
Alexey Alexandrovitch looked at Vronsky with displeasure, vaguely recalling who this was. Vronsky's composure and self-confidence here struck, like a scythe against a stone, upon the cold self-confidence of Alexey Alexandrovitch. "Count Vronsky," said Anna. "Ah! We are acquainted, I believe," said Alexey Alexandrovitch indifferently, giving his hand.
One of Vronsky's chief pleasures was horse-racing, and at the brilliant races that season he himself rode his own splendid horse. But the occasion was a most disastrous one, for at the hurdle races more than half the riders were thrown, Vronsky being one of them. He was picked up uninjured, but the horse had its back broken.
"What a position!" he thought. "If he would fight, would stand up for his honor, I could act, could express my feelings; but this weakness or baseness.... He puts me in the position of playing false, which I never meant and never mean to do." Vronsky's ideas had changed since the day of his conversation with Anna in the Vrede garden.
Then he took out of his notebook three notes of Anna's, read them again, burned them, and remembering their conversation on the previous day, he sank into meditation. Vronsky's life was particularly happy in that he had a code of principles, which defined with unfailing certitude what he ought and what he ought not to do.
Vronsky was continually conscious of the necessity of never for a second relaxing the tone of stern official respectfulness, that he might not himself be insulted. The prince's manner of treating the very people who, to Vronsky's surprise, were ready to descend to any depths to provide him with Russian amusements, was contemptuous.
"Can it be possible we could be like husband and wife, alone, your family with you?" she said, looking close into his eyes. "It only seems strange to me that it can ever have been otherwise." "Stiva says that he has agreed to everything, but I can't accept his generosity," she said, looking dreamily past Vronsky's face. "I don't want a divorce; it's all the same to me now.
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