"Here you are at last!" she observed, holding out her hand to

him.

He kissed her hand and sat down beside her.

"Altogether then, I see your visit was a success," he said to

her.

"Oh, yes," she said, and she began telling him about everything

from the beginning: her journey with Countess Vronskaya, her

arrival, the accident at the station. Then she described the

pity she had felt, first for her brother, and afterwards for

Dolly.

"I imagine one cannot exonerate such a man from blame, though he

is your brother," said Alexey Alexandrovitch severely.

Anna smiled. She knew that he said that simply to show that

family considerations could not prevent him from expressing his

genuine opinion. She knew that characteristic in her husband,

and liked it.

"I am glad it has all ended so satisfactorily, and that you are

back again," he went on. "Come, what do they say about the new

act I have got passed in the council?"

Anna had heard nothing of this act, And she felt

conscience-stricken at having been able so readily to forget what

was to him of such importance.

"Here, on the other hand, it has made a great sensation," he

said, with a complacent smile.

She saw that Alexey Alexandrovitch wanted to tell her something

pleasant to him about it, and she brought him by questions to

telling it. With the same complacent smile he told her of the

ovations he had received in consequence of the act he had

passed.

"I was very, very glad. It shows that at last a reasonable and

steady view of the matter is becoming prevalent among us."

Having drunk his second cup of tea with cream, and bread, Alexey

Alexandrovitch got up, and was going towards his study.

"And you've not been anywhere this evening? You've been dull, I

expect?" he said.

"Oh, no!" she answered, getting up after him and accompanying him

across the room to his study. "What are you reading now?" she

asked.

"Just now I'm reading Duc de Lille, _Poésie des Enfers,_"

he answered. "A very remarkable book."

Anna smiled, as people smile at the weaknesses of those they

love, and, putting her hand under his, she escorted him to the

door of the study. She knew his habit, that had grown into a

necessity, of reading in the evening. She knew, too, that in

spite of his official duties, which swallowed up almost the whole

of his time, he considered it his duty to keep up with everything

of note that appeared in the intellectual world. She knew, too,

that he was really interested in books dealing with politics,

philosophy, and theology, that art was utterly foreign to his

nature; but, in spite of this, or rather, in consequence of it,

Alexey Alexandrovitch never passed over anything in the world of

art, but made it his duty to read everything. She knew that in

politics, in philosophy, in theology, Alexey Alexandrovitch often

had doubts, and made investigations; but on questions of art and

poetry, and, above all, of music, of which he was totally devoid

of understanding, he had the most distinct and decided opinions.

He was fond of talking about Shakespeare, Raphael, Beethoven, of

the significance of new schools of poetry and music, all of which

were classified by him with very conspicuous consistency.




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