# Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part Seven/Chapter 13

CHAPTER XIII
There are no imaginable conditions to which a man cannot accustom himself, especially if he sees that all those who surround him are living in the same way.
Three months before Levin would not have believed that he could have slept tranquilly under the conditions in which he found himself at the present time,—that living an aimless, unprofitable life, spending more than his income, getting tipsy,—for he could not call his experience at the club anything else,—his absurd intimacy with a man with whom his wife had once been in love, and his still more absurd visit to a woman whom it was impossible to regard as respectable, and after the fascination which she had exerted over him and the mortification which he had caused his wife—that under all these conditions he could sleep serenely. But under the influence of his weariness, the long hours without a nap, and the wine which he had drunk, he slept soundly and serenely.
​"What's the matter?" he asked, still only half awake. "Kitty, what is it?"
"Nothing," answered she, coming from behind the screen with a candle in her hand, and smiling at him with a peculiarly sweet and significant smile; "I don't feel quite well."
"What! Is this the beginning? Must we send?" exclaimed he in alarm, and he began to dress as quickly as possible.
"No, no," said she, smiling, and holding his hand; "it 's nothing; I did not feel quite well; it's all right now."
Going back to bed, she put out the light, and lay down again, keeping perfectly still, although her very stillness and the way she, as it were, held her breath, were suspicious, and still more so the expression of peculiar tenderness and alertness with which, as she came out from behind the screen, she said to him, "it's nothing"; still, he was so overcome by drowsiness that he immediately went to sleep again.
It was only afterward that he realized the calmness of her spirit, and appreciated all that was passing in her dear, gentle heart as she lay thus motionless near him, awaiting the most solemn moment of a woman's life.
About seven o'clock he was awakened by her hand touching his shoulder and her low whisper. She apparently hesitated between the fear of waking him and the wish to speak to him.
"Kostia, don't be afraid, it's nothing; but I think.... Lizavyeta Petrovna had better be called."
The candle was again lighted. She was sitting on the bed, holding the knitting on which she had been at work during the last few days.
"Please don't be alarmed. I 'm not in the least afraid," said she, seeing her husband's terrified face; and she pressed his hand to her breast, then to her lips.
Levin leaped from his bed, and, unconscious of himself, without taking his eyes off his wife for a moment, hurried on his dressing-gown. It was necessary for him to go, but he could not tear himself away. Dearly ​as he loved her face, well as he knew her expression, her eyes, yet never before had he seen her look as she did then. How ugly and horrible did he now seem as he saw her now, and remembered the mortification which he had caused her the evening before! Her flushed face, with the clustering soft curls escaping from under her nightcap, was radiant with joy and resolution.
Natural and simple as Kitty's character in general was, Levin was amazed by what unfolded itself before him now, when suddenly all the curtains were withdrawn, and the very essence of her soul shone in her eyes. And in this simplicity and revelation, she, her very self, whom he loved, was more apparent than ever. She looked at him, and smiled. But suddenly her brows contracted, she lifted her head, and, coming to him, took his hand, and clung to him, sighing painfully. She suffered, and yet she seemed to pity him for her sufferings. At first, as he saw this silent suffering, it seemed to him that he was to blame for it. But in her look there was tenderness which told him that she not only did not blame him, but that she loved him all the more for her suffering.
"If not I, who, then, is to blame for this?" he asked himself. She suffered, and she seemed to take pride in her pain, and to rejoice in it. He saw that in her soul some beautiful transformation was taking place; but what? he could not understand. It was above his comprehension.
"I have sent for mamma. Now go quick, and get Lizavyeta Petrovna.... Kostia.... it 's nothing.... it is all over."
She went to the other side of the room, and rang the bell.
"There, now, please go. Pasha is coming; I want nothing." And Levin, with astonishment, saw her take up her work again.
​He dressed, and when he had ordered his carriage, since it was too early for izvoshchiks, he flew up to her room again, not on tiptoes, but on wings, as it seemed to him. Two maids were busily engaged in moving something in the room. Kitty was walking up and down, knitting swiftly, slipping the knots, and giving directions.
"I'm going for the doctor immediately. Lizavyeta Petrovna has been sent for, but I will call there. There's nothing more, is there? Oh, yes,—Dolly."
She looked at him, evidently without hearing what he said. "Yes, yes, go," said she, and motioned to him with her hand. He was just passing through the drawing-room, when he heard a groan, pitiful, but instantly suppressed. He stood still, and could not make up his mind.
"It is she," he said to himself; and, putting his hands to his head, he rushed out.
"Lord have mercy on us! pardon us! save us!" he exclaimed; and these words, which suddenly and unexpectedly came to his lips, were not spoken merely by his lips, unbeliever though he was.
Now at this instant, he knew perfectly well that all his doubts and the impossibility which his reason found in belief, had not the slightest influence to prevent him from addressing himself to God. Everything of this sort now vanished like dust from his soul. To whom could he address himself if not to Him in whose hands he felt were held himself, and his soul, and his love?
The horse was not yet ready, but, feeling the special strain of physical powers unemployed, and of the work before him calling for his attention, he started on foot so as not to lose a single instant, and ordered Kuzma to follow him. At the corner of the street he met a night izvoshchik hurrying along. In the little sledge sat Lizavyeta Petrovna, in a velvet cloak, with her head wrapped up in a kerchief. "Thank God!" he murmured, as he saw with joy her pale little face, which had a peculiarly serious, and even stern, expression. Not ​ordering the driver to stop, he ran along with it back to the house.
"Only two hours? not more?" asked Lizavyeta Petrovna. "You may speak to Piotr Dmitritch, but don't hurry him. Yes, please get some opium at the apothecary's."
"Do you think all will go on well?" asked he. "God help us!" he added, as he saw his horse starting from the door; he got into the sledge alongside of Kuzma, and ordered him to hurry to the doctor's.