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Anna Karenina 209


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Anna Karenina

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to me..." She turned away from him, pulled the hook at last out of the crochet work, and rapidly, with the help of her forefinger, began working loop after loop of the wool that was dazzling white in the lamplight, while the slender wrist moved swiftly, nervously in the embroidered cuff. "How was it, then? Where did you meet Alexey Alexandrovitch?" Her voice sounded in an unnatural and jarring tone. "We ran up against each other in the doorway." "And he bowed to you like this?" She drew a long face, and half-closing her eyes, quickly transformed her expression, folded her hands, and Vronsky suddenly saw in her beautiful face the very expression with which Alexey Alexandrovitch had bowed to him. He smiled, while she laughed gaily, with that sweet, deep laugh, which was one of her greatest charms. "I dont understand him in the least," said Vronsky. "If after your avowal to him at your country house he had broken with you, if he had called me out--but this I cant understand. How can he put up with such a position? He feels it, thats evident." "He?" she said sneeringly. "Hes perfectly satisfied." "What are we all miserable for, when everything might be so happy?" "Only not he. Dont I know him, the falsity in which hes utterly steeped?... Could one, with any feeling, live as he is living with me? He understands nothing, and feels nothing. Could a man of any feeling live in the same house with his unfaithful wife? Could he talk to her, call her my dear?" And again she could not help mimicking him: "Anna, _ma chere_; Anna, dear!" "Hes not a man, not a human being--hes a doll! No one knows him; but I know him. Oh, if Id been in his place, Id long ago have killed, have torn to pieces a wife like me. I wouldnt have said, Anna, ma chere! Hes not a man, hes an official machine. He doesnt understand that Im your wife, that hes outside, that hes superfluous.... Dont lets talk of him!..." "Youre unfair, very unfair, dearest," said Vronsky, trying to soothe her. "But never mind, dont lets talk of him. Tell me what youve been doing? What is the matter? What has been wrong with you, and what did the doctor say?" She looked at him with mocking amusement. Evidently she had hit on other absurd and grotesque aspects in her husband and was awaiting the moment to give expression to them. But he went on: "I imagine that its not illness, but your condition. When will it be?" The ironical light died away in her eyes, but a different smile, a consciousness of something, he did not know what, and of quiet melancholy, came over her face. "Soon, soon. You say that our position is miserable, that we must put an end to it. If you knew how terrible it is to me, what I would give to be able to love you freely and boldly! I should not torture myself and torture you with my jealousy.... And it will come soon, but not as we expect." And at the thought of how it would come, she seemed so pitiable to herself that tears came into her eyes, and she could not go on. She laid her hand on his sleeve, dazzling and white with its rings in the lamplight. "It wont come as we suppose. I didnt mean to say this to you, but youve made me. Soon, soon, all will be over, and we shall all, all be at peace, and suffer no more." "I dont understand," he said, understanding her. "You asked when? Soon. And I shant live through it. Dont interrupt me!" and she made haste to speak. "I know it; I know for certain. I shall die; and Im very glad I shall die, and release myself and you." Tears dropped from her eyes; he bent down over her hand and began kissing it, trying to hide his emotion, which, he knew, had no sort of grounds, though he could not control it. "Yes, its better so," she said, tightly gripping his hand. "Thats the only way, the only way left us." He had recovered himself, and lifted his head. "How absurd! What absurd nonsense you are talking!" "No, its the truth." "What, whats the truth?" "That I shall die. I have had a dream." "A dream?" repeated Vronsky, and

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