"He's not a man, not a human being--he's a doll! No one knows

him; but I know him. Oh, if I'd been in his place, I'd long ago

have killed, have torn to pieces a wife like me. I wouldn't

have said, 'Anna, ma chere'! He's not a man, he's an official

machine. He doesn't understand that I'm your wife, that he's

outside, that he's superfluous.... Don't let's talk of him!..."

"You're unfair, very unfair, dearest," said Vronsky, trying to

soothe her. "But never mind, don't let's talk of him. Tell me

what you've been doing? What is the matter? What has been wrong

with you, and what did the doctor say?"

She looked at him with mocking amusement. Evidently she had hit

on other absurd and grotesque aspects in her husband and was

awaiting the moment to give expression to them.

But he went on: "I imagine that it's not illness, but your condition. When will

it be?"

The ironical light died away in her eyes, but a different smile,

a consciousness of something, he did not know what, and of quiet

melancholy, came over her face.

"Soon, soon. You say that our position is miserable, that we

must put an end to it. If you knew how terrible it is to me,

what I would give to be able to love you freely and boldly! I

should not torture myself and torture you with my jealousy....

And it will come soon, but not as we expect."

And at the thought of how it would come, she seemed so pitiable

to herself that tears came into her eyes, and she could not go

on. She laid her hand on his sleeve, dazzling and white with its

rings in the lamplight.

"It won't come as we suppose. I didn't mean to say this to you,

but you've made me. Soon, soon, all will be over, and we shall

all, all be at peace, and suffer no more."

"I don't understand," he said, understanding her.

"You asked when? Soon. And I shan't live through it. Don't

interrupt me!" and she made haste to speak. "I know it; I know

for certain. I shall die; and I'm very glad I shall die, and

release myself and you."

Tears dropped from her eyes; he bent down over her hand and began

kissing it, trying to hide his emotion, which, he knew, had no

sort of grounds, though he could not control it.

"Yes, it's better so," she said, tightly gripping his hand.

"That's the only way, the only way left us."




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