Part Seven: Chapter 24

by Leo Tolstoy

　　"Well, was it nice?" she asked, coming out to meet him with apenitent and meek expression.

　　"Just as usual," he answered, seeing at a glance that she was inOne of her good moods. He was used by now to these transitions,and he was particularly glad to see it today, as he was in aspecially good humor himself.

　　"What do I see? Come, that's good!" he said, pointing to theboxes in the passage.

　　"Yes, we must go. I went out for a drive, and it was so fine Ilonged to be in the country. There's nothing to keep you, isthere?"

　　"It's the one thing I desire. I'll be back directly, and we'lltalk it over; I only want to change my coat. Order some tea."

　　And he went into his room.

　　There was something mortifying in the way he had said "Come,that's good," as one says to a child when it leaves off beingnaughty, and still more mortifying was the contrast between herpenitent and his self-confident tone; and for one instant shefelt the lust of strife rising up in her again, but making aneffort she conquered it, and met Vronsky as good-humoredly asbefore.

　　When he came in she told him, partly repeating phrases she hadprepared beforehand, how she had spent the day, and her plans forgoing away.

　　"You know it came to me almost like an inspiration," she said."Why wait here for the divorce? Won't it be just the same in thecountry? I can't wait any longer! I don't want to go on hoping,I don't want to hear anything about the divorce. I have made upmy mind it shall not have any more influence on my life. Do youagree?"

　　"Oh, yes!" he said, glancing uneasily at her excited face.

　　"What did you do? Who was there?" she said, after a pause.

　　Vronsky mentioned the names of the guests. "The dinner wasfirst rate, and the boat race, and it was all pleasant enough,but in Moscow they can never do anything without somethingridicule. A lady of a sort appeared on the scene, teacher ofswimming to the Queen of Sweden, and gave us an exhibition of herskill."

　　"How? did she swim?" asked Anna, frowning.

　　"In an absurd red costume de natation; she was old and hideoustoo. So when shall we go?"

　　"What an absurd fancy! Why, did she swim in some special way,then?" said Anna, not answering.

　　"There was absolutely nothing in it. That's just what I say, itwas awfully stupid. Well, then, when do you think of going?"

　　Anna shook her head as though trying to drive away someunpleasant idea.

　　"When? Why, the sooner the better! By tomorrow we shan't beready. The day after tomorrow."

　　"Yes...oh, no, wait a minute! The day after to-morrow's Sunday,I have to be at maman's," said Vronsky, embarrassed, because assoon as he uttered his mother's name he was aware of her intent,suspicious eyes. His embarrassment confirmed her suspicion. Sheflushed hotly and drew away from him. It was now not the Queenof Sweden's swimming-mistress who filled Anna's imagination, butthe young Princess Sorokina. She was staying in a village nearMoscow with Countess Vronskaya.

　　"Can't you go tomorrow?" she said.

　　"Well, no! The deeds and the money for the business I'm goingthere for I can't get by tomorrow," he answered.

　　"If so, we won't go at all."

　　"But why so?"

　　"I shall not go later. Monday or never!"

　　"What for?" said Vronsky, as though in amazement. "Why, there'sno meaning in it!"

　　"There's no meaning in it to you, because you care nothing forme. You don't care to understand my life. The one thing that Icared for here was Hannah. You say it's affectation. Why, yousaid yesterday that I don't love my daughter, that I love thisEnglish girl, that it's unnatural. I should like to know whatlife there is for me that could be natural!"

　　For an instant she had a clear vision of what she was doing, andwas horrified at how she had fallen away from her resolution.But even though she knew it was her own ruin, she could notrestrain herself, could not keep herself from proving to him thathe was wrong, could not give way to him.

　　"I never said that; I said I did not sympathize with this suddenpassion."

　　"How is it, though you boast of your straightforwardness, youdon't tell the truth?"

　　"I never boast, and I never tell lies," he said slowly,restraining his rising anger. "It's a great pity if you can'trespect..."

　　"Respect was invented to cover the empty place where love shouldbe. And if you don't love me any more, it would be better andmore honest to say so."

　　"No, this is becoming unbearable!" cried Vronsky, getting up fromhis chair; and stopping short, facing her, he said, speakingdeliberately: "What do you try my patience for?" looking asthough he might have said much more, but was restraining himself."It has limits."

　　"What do you mean by that?" she cried, looking with terror at theundisguised hatred in his whole face, and especially in hiscruel, menacing eyes

　　"I mean to say..." he was beginning, but he checked himself. "Imust ask what it is you want of me?"

　　"What can I want? All I can want is that you should not desertme, as you think of doing," she said, understanding all he hadnot uttered. "But that I don't want; that's secondary. I wantlove, and there is none. So then all is over."

　　She turned towards the door.

　　"Stop! sto--op!" said Vronsky, with no change in the gloomy linesof his brows, though he held her by the hand. "What is it allabout? I said that we must put off going for three days, and onthat you told me I was lying, that I was not an honorable man."

　　"Yes, and I repeat that the man who reproaches me with havingsacrificed everything for me," she said, recalling the words of astill earlier quarrel, "that he's worse than a dishonorable man--he's a heartless man."

　　"Oh, there are limits to endurance!" he cried, and hastily let goher hand.

　　"He hates me, that's clear," she thought, and in silence, withoutlooking round, she walked with faltering steps out of the room."He loves another woman, that's even clearer," she said toherself as she went into her own room. "I want love, and thereis none. So, then, all is over." She repeated the words she hadsaid, "and it must be ended."

　　"But how?" she asked herself, and she sat down in a low chairbefore the looking glass.

　　Thoughts of where she would go now, whether to the aunt who hadbrought her up, to Dolly, or simply alone abroad, and of what hewas doing now alone in his study; whether this was the finalquarrel, or whether reconciliation were still possible; and ofwhat all her old friends at Petersburg would say of her now; andof how Alexey Alexandrovitch would look at it, and many otherideas of what would happen now after this rupture, came into herhead; but she did not give herself up to them with all her heart.At the bottom of her heart was some obscure idea that aloneinterested her, but she could not get clear sight of it.Thinking once more of Alexey Alexandrovitch, she recalled thetime of her illness after her confinement, and the feeling whichnever left her at that time. "Why didn't I die?" and the wordsand the feeling of that time came back to her. And all at onceshe knew what was in her soul. Yes, it was that idea which alonesolved all. "Yes, to die!... And the shame and disgrace ofAlexey Alexandrovitch and of Seryozha, and my awful shame, itwill all be saved by death. To die! and he will feel remorse;will be sorry; will love me; he will suffer on my account." Withthe trace of a smile of commiseration for herself she sat down inthe armchair, taking off and putting on the rings on her lefthand, vividly picturing from different sides his feelings afterher death.

　　Approaching footsteps--his steps--distracted her attention. Asthough absorbed in the arrangement of her rings, she did not eventurn to him.

　　He went up to her, and taking her by the hand, said softly:

　　"Anna, we'll go the day after tomorrow, if you like. I agreeto everything."

　　She did not speak.

　　"What is it?" he urged.

　　"You know," she said, and at the same instant, unable to restrainherself any longer, she burst into sobs.

　　"Cast me off!" she articulated between her sobs. "I'll go awaytomorrow...I'll do more. What am I? An immoral woman! A stoneround your neck. I don't want to make you wretched, I don't wantto! I'll set you free. You don't love me; you love someoneelse!"

　　Vronsky besought her to be calm, and declared that there was notrace of foundation for her jealousy; that he had never ceased,and never would cease, to love her; that he loved her more thanever.

　　"Anna, why distress yourself and me so?" he said to her, kissingher hands. There was tenderness now in his face, and she fanciedshe caught the sound of tears in his voice, and she felt them weton her hand. And instantly Anna's despairing jealousy changed toa despairing passion of tenderness. She put her arms round him,and covered with kisses his head, his neck, his hands.