Now she was afraid that Vronsky might confine himself to simply flirting with her daughter.  She saw that her daughter was in love with him, but tried to comfort herself with the thought that he was an honorable man, and would not do this.  But at the same time she knew how easy it is, with the freedom of manners of today, to turn a girl’s head, and how lightly men generally regard such a crime.  The week before, Kitty had told her mother of a conversation she had with Vronsky during a mazurka.  This conversation had partly reassured the princess; but perfectly at ease she could not be.  Vronsky had told Kitty that both he and his brother were so used to obeying their mother that they never made up their minds to any important undertaking without consulting her.  “And just now, I am impatiently awaiting my mother’s arrival from Petersburg, as peculiarly fortunate,” he told her.

Kitty had repeated this without attaching any significance to the words.  But her mother saw them in a different light.  She knew that the old lady was expected from day to day, that she would be pleased at her son’s choice, and she felt it strange that he should not make his offer through fear of vexing his mother.  However, she was so anxious for the marriage itself, and still more for relief from her fears, that she believed it was so.  Bitter as it was for the princess to see the unhappiness of her eldest daughter, Dolly, on the point of leaving her husband, her anxiety over the decision of her youngest daughter’s fate engrossed all her feelings.  Today, with Levin’s reappearance, a fresh source of anxiety arose.  She was afraid that her daughter, who had at one time, as she fancied, a feeling for Levin, might, from extreme sense of honor, refuse Vronsky, and that Levin’s arrival might generally complicate and delay the affair so near being concluded.

“Why, has he been here long?” the princess asked about Levin, as they returned home.

“He came today, mamma.”

“There’s one thing I want to say...” began the princess, and from her serious and alert face, Kitty guessed what it would be.

“Mamma,” she said, flushing hotly and turning quickly to her, “please, please don’t say anything about that.  I know, I know all about it.”

She wished for what her mother wished for, but the motives of her mother’s wishes wounded her.

“I only want to say that to raise hopes...”

“Mamma, darling, for goodness’ sake, don’t talk about it.  It’s so horrible to talk about it.”

“I won’t,” said her mother, seeing the tears in her daughter’s eyes; “but one thing, my love; you promised me you would have no secrets from me.  You won’t?”

“Never, mamma, none,” answered Kitty, flushing a little, and looking her mother straight in the face, “but there’s no use in my telling you anything, and I...I...if I wanted to, I don’t know what to say or how...I don’t know...”