Emma Watson Pussy
War And Peace
kept from him everything concerning her son. She
sent to ask him to come to her immediately; with a throbbing
heart she awaited him, rehearsing to herself the words in which
she would tell him all, and the expressions of love with which he
would console her. The messenger returned with the answer that
he had a visitor with him, but that he would come immediately,
and that he asked whether she would let him bring with him Prince
Yashvin, who had just arrived in Petersburg. "Hes not coming
alone, and since dinner yesterday he has not seen me," she
thought; "hes not coming so that I could tell him everything,
but coming with Yashvin." And all at once a strange idea came to
her: what if he had ceased to love her?
And going over the events of the last few days, it seemed to her
that she saw in everything a confirmation of this terrible idea.
The fact that he had not dined at home yesterday, and the fact
that he had insisted on their taking separate sets of rooms in
Petersburg, and that even now he was not coming to her alone, as
though he were trying to avoid meeting her face to face.
"But he ought to tell me so. I must know that it is so. If I
knew it, then I know what I should do," she said to herself,
utterly unable to picture to herself the position she would be in
if she were convinced of his not caring for her. She thought he
had ceased to love her, she felt close upon despair, and
consequently she felt exceptionally alert. She rang for her maid
and went to her dressing room. As she dressed, she took more
care over her appearance than she had done all those days, as
though he might, if he had grown cold to her, fall in love with
her again because she had dressed and arranged her hair in the
way most becoming to her.
She heard the bell ring before she was ready. When she went into
the drawing room it was not he, but Yashvin, who met her eyes.
Vronsky was looking through the photographs of her son, which she
had forgotten on the table, and he made no haste to look round at
"We have met already," she said, putting her little hand into the
huge hand of Yashvin, whose bashfulness was so queerly out of
keeping with his immense frame and coarse face. "We met last
year at the races. Give them to me," she said, with a rapid
movement snatching from Vronsky the photographs of her son, and
glancing significantly at him with flashing eyes. "Were the
races good this year? Instead of them I saw the races in the
Corso in Rome. But you dont care for life abroad," she said
with a cordial smile. "I know you and all your tastes, though I
have seen so little of you."
"Im awfully sorry for that, for my tastes are mostly bad," said
Yashvin, gnawing at his left mustache.
Having talked a little while, and noticing that Vronsky glanced
at the clock, Yashvin asked her whether she would be staying much
longer in Petersburg, and unbending his huge figure reached after
"Not long, I think," she said hesitatingly, glancing at Vronsky.
"So then we shant meet again?"
"Come and dine with me," said Anna resolutely, angry it seemed
with herself for her embarrassment, but flushing as she always
did when she defined her position before a fresh person. "The
dinner here is not good, but at least you will see him. There is
no one of his old friends in the regiment Alexey cares for as he
does for you."
"Delighted," said Yashvin with a smile, from which Vronsky could
see that he liked Anna very much.
Yashvin said good-bye and went away; Vronsky stayed behind.
"Are you going too?" she said to him.
"Im late already," he answered. "Run along! Ill catch you up
in a moment," he called to Yashvin.
She took him by the hand, and without taking her eyes off him,
gazed at him while she ransacked her mind for the words to say
that would keep him.
"Wait a minute, theres something I want to say to you," and
taking his broad hand she pressed it on her neck. "Oh, was it
right my asking him to dinner?"
"You did quite right," he said
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