Part Seven: Chapter 26

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Never before had a day been passed in quarrel. Today was thefirst time. And this was not a quarrel. It was the openacknowledgment of complete coldness. Was it possible to glanceat her as he had glanced when he came into the room for theguarantee?--to look at her, see her heart was breaking withdespair, and go out without a word with that face of callouscomposure? He was not merely cold to her, he hated her becausehe loved another woman--that was clear.

　　And remembering all the cruel words he had said, Anna supplied,too, the words that he had unmistakably wished to say and couldhave said to her, and she grew more and more exasperated.

　　"I won't prevent you," he might say. "You can go where you like.You were unwilling to be divorced from your husband, no doubt sothat you might go back to him. Go back to him. If you wantmoney, I'll give it to you. How many roubles do you want?"

　　All the most cruel words that a brutal man could say, he said toher in her imagination, and she could not forgive him for them,as though he had actually said them.

　　"But didn't he only yesterday swear he loved me, he, a truthfuland sincere man? Haven't I despaired for nothing many timesalready?" she said to herself afterwards.

　　All that day, except for the visit to Wilson's, which occupiedtwo hours, Anna spent in doubts whether everything were over orwhether there were still hope of reconciliation, whether sheshould go away at once or see him once more. She was expectinghim the whole day, and in the evening, as she went to her ownroom, leaving a message for him that her head ached, she said toherself, "If he comes in spite of what the maid says, it meansthat he loves me still. If not, it means that all is over, andthen I will decide what I'm to do!..."

　　In the evening she heard the rumbling of his carriage stop at theentrance, his ring, his steps and his conversation with theservant; he believed what was told him, did not care to find outmore, and went to his own room. So then everything was over.

　　And death rose clearly and vividly before her mind as the solemeans of bringing back love for her in his heart, of punishinghim and of gaining the victory in that strife which the evilspirit in possession of her heart was waging with him.

　　Now nothing mattered: going or not going to Vozdvizhenskoe,getting or not getting a divorce from her husband--all that didnot matter. The one thing that mattered was punishing him. Whenshe poured herself out her usual dose of opium, and thought thatshe had only to drink off the whole bottle to die, it seemed toher so simple and easy, that she began musing with enjoyment onhow he would suffer, and repent and love her memory when it wouldbe too late. She lay in bed with open eyes, by the light of asingle burned-down candle, gazing at the carved cornice of theceiling and at the shadow of the screen that covered part of it,while she vividly pictured to herself how he would feel when shewould be no more, when she would be only a memory to him. "Howcould I say such cruel things to her?" he would say. "How couldI go out of the room without saying anything to her? But now sheis no more. She has gone away from us forever. She is...."Suddenly the shadow of the screen wavered, pounced on the wholecornice, the whole ceiling; other shadows from the other sideswooped to meet it, for an instant the shadows flitted back, butthen with fresh swiftness they darted forward, wavered,commingled, and all was darkness. "Death!" she thought. Andsuch horror came upon her that for a long while she could notrealize where she was, and for a long while her trembling handscould not find the matches and light another candle, instead ofthe one that had burned down and gone out. "No, anything--onlyto live! Why, I love him! Why, he loves me! This has beenbefore and will pass," she said, feeling that tears of joy at thereturn to life were trickling down her cheeks. And to escapefrom her panic she went hurriedly to his room.

　　He was asleep there, and sleeping soundly. She went up to him,and holding the light above his face, she gazed a long while athim. Now when he was asleep, she loved him so that at the sightof him she could not keep back tears of tenderness. But she knewthat if he waked up he would look at her with cold eyes,convinced that he was right, and that before telling him of herlove, she would have to prove to him that he had been wrong inhis treatment of her. Without waking him, she went back, andafter a second dose of opium she fell towards morning into aheavy, incomplete sleep, during which she never quite lostconsciousness.

　　In the morning she was waked by a horrible nightmare, which hadrecurred several times in her dreams, even before her connectionwith Vronsky. A little old man with unkempt beard was doingsomething bent down over some iron, muttering meaningless Frenchwords, and she, as she always did in this nightmare (it was whatmade the horror of it), felt that this peasant was taking nonotice of her, but was doing something horrible with the iron--over her. And she waked up in a cold sweat.

　　When she got up, the previous day came back to her as thoughveiled in mist.

　　"There was a quarrel. Just what has happened several times. Isaid I had a headache, and he did not come in to see me.Tomorrow we're going away; I must see him and get ready for thejourney," she said to herself. And learning that he was in hisstudy, she went down to him. As she passed through thedrawing room she heard a carriage stop at the entrance, andlooking out of the window she saw the carriage, from which ayoung girl in a lilac hat was leaning out giving some directionto the footman ringing the bell. After a parley in the hall,someone came upstairs, and Vronsky's steps could be heard passingthe drawing room. He went rapidly downstairs. Anna went againto the window. She saw him come out onto the steps without hishat and go up to the carriage. The young girl in the lilac hathanded him a parcel. Vronsky, smiling, said something to her.The carriage drove away, he ran rapidly upstairs again.

　　The mists that had shrouded everything in her soul partedsuddenly. The feelings of yesterday pierced the sick heart witha fresh pang. She could not understand now how she could havelowered herself by spending a whole day with him in his house.she went into his room to announce her determination.

　　"That was Madame Sorokina and her daughter. They came andbrought me the money and the deeds from maman. I couldn't getthem yesterday. How is your head, better?" he said quietly, notwishing to see and to understand the gloomy and solemn expressionof her face.

　　She looked silently, intently at him, standing in the middle ofthe room. He glanced at her, frowned for a moment, and went onreading a letter. She turned, and went deliberately out of theroom. He still might have turned her back, but she had reachedthe door, he was still silent, and the only sound audible was therustling of the note paper as he turned it.

　　"Oh, by the way," he said at the very moment she was in thedoorway, "we're going tomorrow for certain, aren't we?"

　　"You, but not I," she said, turning round to him.

　　"Anna, we can't go on like this..."

　　"You, but not I," she repeated.

　　"This is getting unbearable!"

　　"You...you will be sorry for this," she said, and went out.

　　Frightened by the desperate expression with which these wordswere uttered, he jumped up and would have run after her, but onsecond thoughts he sat down and scowled, setting his teeth. Thisvulgar--as he thought it--threat of something vague exasperatedhim. "I've tried everything," he thought; "the only thing leftis not to pay attention," and he began to get ready to drive intotown, and again to his mother's to get her signature to thedeeds.

　　She heard the sound of his steps about the study and the diningroom. At the drawing room he stood still. But he did not turnin to see her, he merely gave an order that the horse should begiven to Voytov if he came while he was away. Then she heard thecarriage brought round, the door opened, and he came out again.But he went back into the porch again, and someone was runningupstairs. It was the valet running up for his gloves that hadbeen forgotten. She went to the window and saw him take thegloves without looking, and touching the coachman on the back hesaid something to him. Then without looking up at the window hesettled himself in his usual attitude in the carriage, with hislegs crossed, and drawing on his gloves he vanished round thecorner.