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her calm tone, he went to change his coat. Coming back, he found Kitty in the same easy chair. When he went up to her, she glanced at him and broke into sobs. "What? what is it?" he asked, knowing beforehand what. "Youre in love with that hateful woman; she has bewitched you! I saw it in your eyes. Yes, yes! What can it all lead to? You were drinking at the club, drinking and gambling, and then you went...to her of all people! No, we must go away.... I shall go away tomorrow." It was a long while before Levin could soothe his wife. At last he succeeded in calming her, only by confessing that a feeling of pity, in conjunction with the wine he had drunk, had been too much for him, that he had succumbed to Annas artful influence, and that he would avoid her. One thing he did with more sincerity confess to was that living so long in Moscow, a life of nothing but conversation, eating and drinking, he was degenerating. They talked till three oclock in the morning. Only at three oclock were they sufficiently reconciled to be able to go to sleep. Chapter 12 After taking leave of her guests, Anna did not sit down, but began walking up and down the room. She had unconsciously the whole evening done her utmost to arouse in Levin a feeling of love--as of late she had fallen into doing with all young men-- and she knew she had attained her aim, as far as was possible in one evening, with a married and conscientious man. She liked him indeed extremely, and, in spite of the striking difference, from the masculine point of view, between Vronsky and Levin, as a woman she saw something they had in common, which had made Kitty able to love both. Yet as soon as he was out of the room, she ceased to think of him. One thought, and one only, pursued her in different forms, and refused to be shaken off. "If I have so much effect on others, on this man, who loves his home and his wife, why is it _he_ is so cold to me?...not cold exactly, he loves me, I know that! But something new is drawing us apart now. Why wasnt he here all the evening? He told Stiva to say he could not leave Yashvin, and must watch over his play. Is Yashvin a child? But supposing its true. He never tells a lie. But theres something else in it if its true. He is glad of an opportunity of showing me that he has other duties; I know that, I submit to that. But why prove that to me? He wants to show me that his love for me is not to interfere with his freedom. But I need no proofs, I need love. He ought to understand all the bitterness of this life for me here in Moscow. Is this life? I am not living, but waiting for an event, which is continually put off and put off. No answer again! And Stiva says he cannot go to Alexey Alexandrovitch. And I cant write again. I can do nothing, can begin nothing, can alter nothing; I hold myself in, I wait, inventing amusements for myself--the English family, writing, reading--but its all nothing but a sham, its all the same as morphine. He ought to feel for me," she said, feeling tears of self-pity coming into her eyes. She heard Vronskys abrupt ring and hurriedly dried her tears-- not only dried her tears, but sat down by a lamp and opened a book, affecting composure. She wanted to show him that she was displeased that he had not come home as he had promised-- displeased only, and not on any account to let him see her distress, and least of all, her self-pity. She might pity herself, but he must not pity her. She did not want strife, she blamed him for wanting to quarrel, but unconsciously put herself into an attitude of antagonism. "Well, youve not been dull?" he said, eagerly and good-humoredly, going up to her. "What a terrible passion it is--gambling!" "No, Ive not been dull; Ive learned long ago not to be dull. Stiva has been here and Levin." "Yes, they meant to come and see you. Well, how

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