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Anna Karenina 434


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the country," said Kitty, blushing. "Remember me to him, be sure you do." "Ill be sure to!" Kitty said naively, looking compassionately into her eyes. "So good-bye, Dolly." And kissing Dolly and shaking hands with Kitty, Anna went out hurriedly. "Shes just the same and just as charming! Shes very lovely!" said Kitty, when she was alone with her sister. "But theres something piteous about her. Awfully piteous!" "Yes, theres something unusual about her today," said Dolly. "When I went with her into the hall, I fancied she was almost crying." Chapter 29 Anna got into the carriage again in an even worse frame of mind than when she set out from home. To her previous tortures was added now that sense of mortification and of being an outcast which she had felt so distinctly on meeting Kitty. "Where to? Home?" asked Pyotr. "Yes, home," she said, not even thinking now where she was going. "How they looked at me as something dreadful, incomprehensible, and curious! What can he be telling the other with such warmth?" she thought, staring at two men who walked by. "Can one ever tell anyone what one is feeling? I meant to tell Dolly, and its a good thing I didnt tell her. How pleased she would have been at my misery! She would have concealed it, but her chief feeling would have been delight at my being punished for the happiness she envied me for. Kitty, she would have been even more pleased. How I can see through her! She knows I was more than usually sweet to her husband. And shes jealous and hates me. And she despises me. In her eyes Im an immoral woman. If I were an immoral woman I could have made her husband fall in love with me ...if Id cared to. And, indeed, I did care to. Theres someone whos pleased with himself," she thought, as she saw a fat, rubicund gentleman coming towards her. He took her for an acquaintance, and lifted his glossy hat above his bald, glossy head, and then perceived his mistake. "He thought he knew me. Well, he knows me as well as anyone in the world knows me. I dont know myself. I know my appetites, as the French say. They want that dirty ice cream, that they do know for certain," she thought, looking at two boys stopping an ice cream seller, who took a barrel off his head and began wiping his perspiring face with a towel. "We all want what is sweet and nice. If not sweetmeats, then a dirty ice. And Kittys the same--if not Vronsky, then Levin. And she envies me, and hates me. And we all hate each other. I Kitty, Kitty me. Yes, thats the truth. _Tiutkin, coiffeur. Je me fais coiffer par Tiutkin...._ Ill tell him that when he comes," she thought and smiled. But the same instant she remembered that she had no one now to tell anything amusing to. "And theres nothing amusing, nothing mirthful, really. Its all hateful. Theyre singing for vespers, and how carefully that merchant crosses himself! as if he were afraid of missing something. Why these churches and this singing and this humbug? Simply to conceal that we all hate each other like these cab drivers who are abusing each other so angrily. Yashvin says, He wants to strip me of my shirt, and I him of his. Yes, thats the truth!" She was plunged in these thoughts, which so engrossed her that she left off thinking of her own position, when the carriage drew up at the steps of her house. It was only when she saw the porter running out to meet her that she remembered she had sent the note and the telegram. "Is there an answer?" she inquired. "Ill see this minute," answered the porter, and glancing into his room, he took out and gave her the thin square envelope of a telegram. "I cant come before ten oclock.--Vronsky," she read. "And hasnt the messenger come back?" "No," answered the porter. "Then, since its so, I know what I must do," she said, and feeling a vague fury and craving for revenge rising up within her, she ran upstairs. "Ill go to him myself. Before going away forever, Ill tell him all. Never have I hated anyone as I hate

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