"Anna Arkadyevna, he has come. Here he is!" said the midwife,
trying to attract her attention to Alexey Alexandrovitch.
"Oh, what nonsense!" Anna went on, not seeing her husband. "No,
give her to me; give me my little one! He has not come yet. You
say he won't forgive me, because you don't know him. No one
knows him. I'm the only one, and it was hard for me even. His
eyes I ought to know--Seryozha has just the same eyes--and I
can't bear to see them because of it. Has Seryozha had his
dinner? I know everyone will forget him. He would not forget.
Seryozha must be moved into the corner room, and Mariette must be
asked to sleep with him."
All of a sudden she shrank back, was silent; and in terror, as
though expecting a blow, as though to defend herself, she raised
her hands to her face. She had seen her husband.
"No, no!" she began. "I am not afraid of him; I am afraid of
death. Alexey, come here. I am in a hurry, because I've no
time, I've not long left to live; the fever will begin directly
and I shall understand nothing more. Now I understand, I
understand it all, I see it all!"
Alexey Alexandrovitch's wrinkled face wore an expression of
agony; he took her by the hand and tried to say something, but he
could not utter it; his lower lip quivered, but he still went on
struggling with his emotion, and only now and then glanced at
her. And each time he glanced at her, he saw her eyes gazing at
him with such passionate and triumphant tenderness as he had
never seen in them.
"Wait a minute, you don't know...stay a little, stay!..." She
stopped, as though collecting her ideas. "Yes," she began; "yes,
yes, yes. This is what I wanted to say. Don't be surprised at
me. I'm still the same.... But there is another woman in me,
I'm afraid of her: she loved that man, and I tried to hate you,
and could not forget about her that used to be. I'm not that
woman. Now I'm my real self, all myself. I'm dying now, I know
I shall die, ask him. Even now I feel--see here, the weights on
my feet, on my hands, on my fingers. My fingers--see how huge
they are! But this will soon all be over.... Only one thing I
want: forgive me, forgive me quite. I'm terrible, but my nurse
used to tell me; the holy martyr--what was her name? She was
worse. And I'll go to Rome; there's a wilderness, and there I
shall be no trouble to any one, only I'll take Seryozha and the
little one.... No, you can't forgive me! I know, it can't be
forgiven! No, no, go away, you're too good!" She held his hand
in one burning hand, while she pushed him away with the other.