Part Two: Chapter 23

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Vronsky had several times already, though not so resolutely asnow, tried to bring her to consider their position, and everytime he had been confronted by the same superficiality andtriviality with which she met his appeal now. It was as thoughthere were something in this which she could not or would notface, as though directly she began to speak of this, she, thereal Anna, retreated somehow into herself, and another strangeand unaccountable woman came out, whom he did not love, and whomhe feared, and who was in opposition to him. But today he wasresolved to have it out.

　　"Whether he knows or not," said Vronsky, in his usual quiet andresolute tone, "that's nothing to do with us. We cannot...youcannot stay like this, especially now."

　　"What's to be done, according to you?" she asked with the samefrivolous irony. She who had so feared he would take hercondition too lightly was now vexed with him for deducing from itthe necessity of taking some step.

　　"Tell him everything, and leave him."

　　"Very well, let us suppose I do that," she said. "Do you knowwhat the result of that would be? I can tell you it allbeforehand," and a wicked light gleamed in her eyes, that hadbeen so soft a minute before. "'Eh, you love another man, andhave entered into criminal intrigues with him?'" (Mimicking herhusband, she threw an emphasis on the word "criminal," as AlexeyAlexandrovitch did.) " 'I warned you of the results in thereligious, the civil, and the domestic relation. You have notlistened to me. Now In cannot let you disgrace my name,--'""and my son," she had meant to say, but about her son she couldnot jest,--"'disgrace my name, and'--and more in the samestyle," she added. "In general terms, he'll say in his officialmanner, and with all distinctness and precision, that he cannotlet me go, but will take all measures in his power to preventscandal. And he will calmly and punctually act in accordancewith his words. That's what will happen. He's not a man, but amachine, and a spiteful machine when he's angry," she added,recalling Alexey Alexandrovitch as she spoke, with all thepeculiarities of his figure and manner of speaking, and reckoningagainst him every defect she could find in him, softening nothingfor the great wrong she herself was doing him.

　　"But, Anna," said Vronsky, in a soft and persuasive voice, tryingto soothe her, "we absolutely must, anyway, tell him, and then beguided by the line he takes."

　　"What, run away?"

　　"And why not run away? I don't see how we can keep on like this.And not for my sake--I see that you suffer."

　　"Yes, run away, and become your mistress," she said angrily.

　　"Anna," he said, with reproachful tenderness.

　　"Yes," she went on, "become your mistress, and complete the ruinof..."

　　Again she would have said "my son," but she could not utter thatword.

　　Vronsky could not understand how she, with her strong andtruthful nature, could endure this state of deceit, and not longto get out of it. But he did not suspect that the chief cause ofit was the word--son, which she could not bring herself topronounce. When she thought of her son, and his future attitudeto his mother, who had abandoned his father, she felt such terrorat what she had done, that she could not face it; but, like awoman, could only try to comfort herself with lying assurancesthat everything would remain as it always had been, and that itwas possible to forget the fearful question of how it would bewith her son.

　　"I beg you, I entreat you," she said suddenly, taking his hand,and speaking in quite a different tone, sincere and tender,"never speak to me of that!"

　　"But, Anna..."

　　"Never. Leave it to me. I know all the baseness, all the horrorof my position; but it's not so easy to arrange as you think.And leave it to me, and do what I say. Never speak to me of it.Do you promise me?...No, no, promise!..."

　　"I promise everything, but I can't be at peace, especially afterwhat you have told me. I can't be at peace, when you can't be atpeace...."

　　"I?" she repeated. "Yes, I am worried sometimes; but that willpass, if you will never talk about this. When you talk aboutit--it's only then it worries me."

　　"I don't understand," he said.

　　"I know," she interrupted him, "how hard it is for your truthfulnature to lie, and I grieve for you. I often think that you haveruined your whole life for me."

　　"I was just thinking the very same thing," he said; "how couldyou sacrifice everything for my sake? I can't forgive myselfthat you're unhappy!"

　　"I unhappy?" she said, coming closer to him, and looking at himwith an ecstatic smile of love. "I am like a hungry man who hasbeen given food. He may be cold, and dressed in rags, andashamed, but he is not unhappy. I unhappy? No, this is myunhappiness...."

　　She could hear the sound of her son's voice coming towards them,and glancing swiftly round the terrace, she got up impulsively.Her eyes glowed with the fire he knew so well; with a rapidmovement she raised her lovely hands, covered with rings, tookhis head, looked a long look into his face, and, putting up herface with smiling, parted lips, swiftly kissed his mouth and botheyes, and pushed him away. She would have gone, but he held herback.

　　"When?" he murmured in a whisper, gazing in ecstasy at her.

　　"Tonight, at one o'clock," she whispered, and, with a heavysigh, she walked with her light, swift step to meet her son.

　　Seryozha had been caught by the rain in the big garden, and heand his nurse had taken shelter in an arbor.

　　"Well, au revoir," she said to Vronsky. "I must soon be gettingready for the races. Betsy promised to fetch me."

　　Vronsky, looking at his watch, went away hurriedly.