# Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part Five/Chapter 21

CHAPTER XXI
AS soon as Alekseï Aleksandrovitch had learned from Betsy and Stepan Arkadyevitch that all that was expected of him was that he should leave his wife in peace and not trouble her with his presence, and that his wife herself wished this, he had felt himself in too great perplexity to be able to decide anything for himself, and he did not know what he wanted; but, having placed his fate in the hands of others, who were willing enough to occupy themselves with his affairs, he was ready to accept whatever might be proposed to him.
Only when Anna had taken her departure and when the English governess sent to inquire if she should dine with him or by herself, did he for the first time clearly realize his position and its full horror.
The hardest element in this state of affairs was that he could not coordinate and reconcile his past with the present. Nor was it the past when he lived happily with his wife that disturbed him. The transition from that past to the knowledge of his wife's infidelity he had borne like a martyr; that state of things was trying, but it was comprehensible to him. If at the time when his wife had confessed her wrong to him she had left him, he would have been mortified and unhappy; but he would not have been in that inextricable, incomprehensible position in which he now felt that he was. He could never now reconcile his recent position, his reconciliation, his love for his sick wife and the alien child, ​with the present state of things; in other words, with the fact that as a reward for all his sacrifices he was now deserted, disgraced, useful to no one, and a ridiculous laughing-stock to all.
The first two days after his wife's departure Alekseï Aleksandrovitch received petitioners and his chief secretary, attended committee-meetings, and ate his meals in the dining-room as usual. Without trying to explain to himself why he did this, he directed all the powers of his mind to one single aim—to seem calm and indifferent. As he answered the questions of the servants in regard to what should be done about Anna's rooms and her things, he made superhuman efforts to assume the manner of a man for whom the event that had occurred was not unexpected, and had nothing in it outside the range of ordinary, every-day events, and he accomplished his purpose; no one would have detected in him any signs of despair. But on the second day after her departure Korneï handed him a milliner's bill which Anna had neglected to pay, and told him that the manager of the business himself was waiting. Alekseï Aleksandrovitch had the man shown in.
"Excuse me, your excellency," said the manager, "for venturing to disturb you, but if you order us to apply to her ladyship personally, will you kindly give us her address?"
Alekseï Aleksandrovitch seemed to the manager to be cogitating; then suddenly turning round, he sat down at the table. Dropping his head into his hands, he sat there a long time in that position; he tried several times to speak, but still hesitated. Korneï, understanding his barin's feelings, asked the manager to come another time.
When he was left alone again, Alekseï Aleksandrovitch realized that he no longer had the power to keep up the rôle of firmness and serenity. He gave orders to send away the carriage which was waiting for him, and he declined to see callers and would accept no invitations out to dine. He felt that he could not endure the disdain and derision which he clearly read on the ​face of this manager and of Korneï, and of all without exception whom he had met during those two days. He felt that he could not defend himself from the detestation of people, because this detestation did not arise from the fact that he had himself committed any wrong action, for in that case he might have hoped to regain the esteem of the world by improvement in conduct, but from the fact that he was unhappy, and with an unhappiness that was odious and shameful. He knew that it was precisely for the reason that his heart was torn that they would be pitiless to him. It seemed to him that his fellow-men persecuted him as dogs torture to death some poor cur maimed and howling with pain. He knew that the only safety from men was to conceal his wounds from them, and he had instinctively tried for two days to do so; but now he felt that he had no longer the strength to continue the unequal struggle.
His despair was made deeper by the knowledge that he was absolutely alone with his suffering. In all Petersburg there was not a man to whom he could confide all his wretchedness, not one who would have any pity for him now, not as a lofty functionary, or even as a member of society, but simply as a human being in despair: he had no such friend.
Alekseï Aleksandrovitch had lost his mother when he was ten years old; he had no remembrance of his father; he and his one brother were left orphans with a very small inheritance; their uncle Karenin, a man of influence, held in high esteem by the late emperor, took charge of their bringing up.
After a successful course at the gymnasium and the university, Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, through his uncle's aid, made a brilliant start in official life, and, full of ambition, devoted himself exclusively to his career. He formed no ties of intimacy either in the gymnasium or in the university, or afterward in society; his brother alone was dear to him, but he entered the department of foreign affairs, went abroad to live, and died soon after Alekseï Aleksandrovitch's marriage.
While Karenin was governor of one of the provinces, ​Anna's aunt, a wealthy lady of the governmental capital, introduced her niece to this governor, who was young for such a position, if not in years, and she forced him to the alternative of proposing marriage or leaving the city. Alekseï Aleksandrovitch long hesitated. There seemed as many reasons in favor of this step as there were opposed to it; there was no definite reason which should impel him to break his rule, "When in doubt, don't!" but Anna's aunt sent word to him through a friend that he had compromised the young lady, and that as a man of honor he must offer her his hand. He offered himself, and gave her, first as his betrothed and afterward as his wife, all the affection which it was in his power to show.
This attachment prevented him from feeling the need of any other intimacy. And now out of all the number of his acquaintances he had not one confidential friend. He had many so-called "friends," but no intimates. There were many persons whom Alekseï Aleksandrovitch could invite to dinner, or ask favors of, in the interests of his public capacity or protection for some petitioner; with whom he could freely criticize the actions of other people and of the highest officers of government. But his relations to these people were exclusively confined to this official domain, from which it was impossible to escape. There was one university comrade with whom he had kept up an intimacy in after years, and to whom he would have confided his private sorrows, but this friend was a trustee of the classical educational institutes in a distant province. Of all the people in Petersburg, the nearest and most practicable acquaintances were his Director of the Chancelry and his doctor.
Mikhaïl Vasilyevitch Sliudin, "manager of affairs," was a simple, good, intelligent, and well-bred man, and he seemed full of sympathy for Karenin; but five years' association in official service put a barrier between them which silenced confidences.
​Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, having signed the papers which he brought, sat in silence for some time looking at Sliudin, and kept trying, but found it impossible, to open his heart to him. The question, "Have you heard of my misfortune?" was on his lips; but it ended in his saying as usual, when he dismissed him:—
"You will have the goodness to prepare me this work."
The doctor was another man who was well disposed to him, but between them there had long been a tacit understanding that they were both full of business and in a hurry.
Alekseï Aleksandrovitch did not think at all about his women friends, or even of the chiefest among them, the Countess Lidia Ivanovna. Women simply as women were strange and repulsive to him.