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getting up. "And if theres a telegram while Im away, send it on to Darya Alexandrovnas...but no, I shall be back myself." "Yes, I mustnt think, I must do something, drive somewhere, and most of all, get out of this house," she said, feeling with terror the strange turmoil going on in her own heart, and she made haste to go out and get into the carriage. "Where to?" asked Pyotr before getting onto the box. "To Znamenka, the Oblonskys." Chapter 28 It was bright and sunny. A fine rain had been falling all the morning, and now it had not long cleared up. The iron roofs, the flags of the roads, the flints of the pavements, the wheels and leather, the brass and the tinplate of the carriages--all glistened brightly in the May sunshine. It was three oclock, and the very liveliest time in the streets. As she sat in a corner of the comfortable carriage, that hardly swayed on its supple springs, while the grays trotted swiftly, in the midst of the unceasing rattle of wheels and the changing impressions in the pure air, Anna ran over the events of the last days, and she saw her position quite differently from how it had seemed at home. Now the thought of death seemed no longer so terrible and so clear to her, and death itself no longer seemed so inevitable. Now she blamed herself for the humiliation to which she had lowered herself. "I entreat him to forgive me. I have given in to him. I have owned myself in fault. What for? Cant I live without him?" And leaving unanswered the question how she was going to live without him, she fell to reading the signs on the shops. "Office and warehouse. Dental surgeon. Yes, Ill tell Dolly all about it. She doesnt like Vronsky. I shall be sick and ashamed, but Ill tell her. She loves me, and Ill follow her advice. I wont give in to him; I wont let him train me as he pleases. Filippov, bun shop. They say they send their dough to Petersburg. The Moscow water is so good for it. Ah, the springs at Mitishtchen, and the pancakes!" And she remembered how, long, long ago, when she was a girl of seventeen, she had gone with her aunt to Troitsa. "Riding, too. Was that really me, with red hands? How much that seemed to me then splendid and out of reach has become worthless, while what I had then has gone out of my reach forever! Could I ever have believed then that I could come to such humiliation? How conceited and self-satisfied he will be when he gets my note! But I will show him.... How horrid that paint smells! Why is it theyre always painting and building? _Modes et robes,_" she read. A man bowed to her. It was Annushkas husband. "Our parasites"; she remembered how Vronsky had said that. "Our? Why our? Whats so awful is that one cant tear up the past by its roots. One cant tear it out, but one can hide ones memory of it. And Ill hide it." And then she thought of her past with Alexey Alexandrovitch, of how she had blotted the memory of it out of her life. "Dolly will think Im leaving my second husband, and so I certainly must be in the wrong. As if I cared to be right! I cant help it!" she said, and she wanted to cry. But at once she fell to wondering what those two girls could be smiling about. "Love, most likely. They dont know how dreary it is, how low.... The boulevard and the children. Three boys running, playing at horses. Seryozha! And Im losing everything and not getting him back. Yes, Im losing everything, if he doesnt return. Perhaps he was late for the train and has come back by now. Longing for humiliation again!" she said to herself. "No, Ill go to Dolly, and say straight out to her, Im unhappy, I deserve this, Im to blame, but still Im unhappy, help me. These horses, this carriage--how loathsome I am to myself in this carriage--all his; but I wont see them again." Thinking over the words in which she would tell Dolly, and mentally working her heart

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