Part One: Chapter 29

by Leo Tolstoy

　　"Come, it's all over, and thank God!" was the first thought thatcame to Anna Arkadyevna, when she had said good-bye for the lasttime to her brother, who had stood blocking up the entrance tothe carriage till the third bell rang. She sat down on herlounge beside Annushka, and looked about her in the twilight ofthe sleeping-carriage. "Thank God! tomorrow I shall see Seryozhaand Alexey Alexandrovitch, and my life will go on in the old way,all nice and as usual."

　　Still in the same anxious frame of mind, as she had been all thatday, Anna took pleasure in arranging herself for the journey withgreat care. With her little deft hands she opened and shut herlittle red bag, took out a cushion, laid it on her knees, andcarefully wrapping up her feet, settled herself comfortably. Aninvalid lady had already lain down to sleep. Two other ladiesbegan talking to Anna, and a stout elderly lady tucked up herfeet, and made observations about the heating of the train. Annaanswered a few words, but not foreseeing any entertainment fromthe conversation, she asked Annushka to get a lamp, hooked itonto the arm of her seat, and took from her bag a paper knife andan English novel. At first her reading made no progress. Thefuss and bustle were disturbing; then when the train had started,she could not help listening to the noises; then the snow beatingon the left window and sticking to the pane, and the sight of themuffled guard passing by, covered with snow on one side, and theconversations about the terrible snowstorm raging outside,distracted her attention. Farther on, it was continually thesame again and again: the same shaking and rattling, the samesnow on the window, the same rapid transitions from steamingheat to cold, and back again to heat, the same passing glimpsesof the same figures in the twilight, and the same voices, andAnna began to read and to understand what she read. Annushka wasalready dozing, the red bag on her lap, clutched by her broadhands, in gloves, of which one was torn. Anna Arkadyevna readand understood, but it was distasteful to her to read, that is,to follow the reflection of other people's lives. She had toogreat a desire to live herself. If she read that the heroine ofthe novel was nursing a sick man, she longed to move withnoiseless steps about the room of a sick man; if she read of amember of Parliament making a speech, she longed to be deliveringthe speech; if she read of how Lady Mary had ridden after thehounds, and had provoked her sister-in-law, and had surprisedeveryone by her boldness, she too wished to be doing the same.But there was no chance of doing anything; and twisting thesmooth paper knife in her little hands, she forced herself toread.

　　The hero of the novel was already almost reaching his Englishhappiness, a baronetcy and an estate, and Anna was feeling adesire to go with him to the estate, when she suddenly felt thathe ought to feel ashamed, and that she was ashamed of the samething. But what had he to be ashamed of? "What have I to beashamed of?" she asked herself in injured surprise. She laiddown the book and sank against the back of the chair, tightlygripping the paper cutter in both hands. There was nothing. Shewent over all her Moscow recollections. All were good, pleasant.She remembered the ball, remembered Vronsky and his face ofslavish adoration, remembered all her conduct with him: therewas nothing shameful. And for all that, at the same point in hermemories, the feeling of shame was intensified, as though someinner voice, just at the point when she thought of Vronsky, weresaying to her, "Warm, very warm, hot." "Well, what is it?" shesaid to herself resolutely, shifting her seat in the lounge."What does it mean? Am I afraid to look it straight in the face?Why, what is it? Can it be that between me and this officer boythere exist, or can exist, any other relations than such as arecommon with every acquaintance?" She laughed contemptuously andtook up her book again; but now she was definitely unable tofollow what she read. She passed the paper knife over the windowpane, then laid its smooth, cool surface to her cheek, and almostlaughed aloud at the feeling of delight that all at once withoutcause came over her. She felt as though her nerves were stringsbeing strained tighter and tighter on some sort of screwing peg.She felt her eyes opening wider and wider, her fingers and toestwitching nervously, something within oppressing her breathing,while all shapes and sounds seemed in the uncertain half-light tostrike her with unaccustomed vividness. Moments of doubt werecontinually coming upon her, when she was uncertain whether thetrain were going forwards or backwards, or were standing stillaltogether; whether it were Annushka at her side or a stranger."What's that on the arm of the chair, a fur cloak or some beast?And what am I myself? Myself or some other woman?" she wasafraid of giving way to this delirium. But something drew hertowards it, and she could yield to it or resist it at will. Shegot up to rouse herself, and slipped off her plaid and the capeof her warm dress. For a moment she regained herself-possession, and realized that the thin peasant who had comein wearing a long overcoat, with buttons missing from it, was thestoveheater, that he was looking at the thermometer, that it wasthe wind and snow bursting in after him at the door; but theneverything grew blurred again.... That peasant with the longwaist seemed to be gnawing something on the wall, the old ladybegan stretching her legs the whole length of the carriage, andfilling it with a black cloud; then there was a fearful shriekingand banging, as though someone were being torn to pieces; thenthere was a blinding dazzle of red fire before her eyes and awall seemed to rise up and hide everything. Anna felt as thoughshe were sinking down. But it was not terrible, but delightful.The voice of a man muffled up and covered with snow shoutedsomething in her ear. She got up and pulled herself together;she realized that they had reached a station and that this wasthe guard. She asked Annushka to hand her the cape she had takenoff and her shawl, put them on and moved towards the door.

　　"Do you wish to get out?" asked Annushka.

　　"Yes, I want a little air. It's very hot in here." And sheopened the door. The driving snow and the wind rushed to meether and struggled with her over the door. But she enjoyed thestruggle.

　　She opened the door and went out. The wind seemed as thoughlying in wait for her; with gleeful whistle it tried to snatchher up and bear her off, but she clung to the cold door post, andholding her skirt got down onto the platform and under theshelter of the carriages. The wind had been powerful on thesteps, but on the platform, under the lee of the carriages, therewas a lull. With enjoyment she drew deep breaths of the frozen,snowy air, and standing near the carriage looked about theplatform and the lighted station.