Anna Karenina - Part 7

"The cause is not that," she said, "and, indeed, I don't see how

the cause of my irritability, as you call it, can be that I am

completely in your power. What indefiniteness is there in the

position? on the contrary..."

"I am very sorry that you don't care to understand," he

interrupted, obstinately anxious to give utterance to his

thought. "The indefiniteness consists in your imagining that I

am free."

"On that score you can set your mind quite at rest," she said,

and turning away from him, she began drinking her coffee.

She lifted her cup, with her little finger held apart, and put it

to her lips. After drinking a few sips she glanced at him, and

by his expression, she saw clearly that he was repelled by her

hand, and her gesture, and the sound made by her lips.

"I don't care in the least what your mother thinks, and what

match she wants to make for you," she said, putting the cup down

with a shaking hand.

"But we are not talking about that."

"Yes, that's just what we are talking about. And let me tell you

that a heartless woman, whether she's old or not old, your mother

or anyone else, is of no consequence to me, and I would not

consent to know her."

"Anna, I beg you not to speak disrespectfully of my mother."

"A woman whose heart does not tell her where her son's happiness

and honor lie has no heart."

"I repeat my request that you will not speak disrespectfully of

my mother, whom I respect," he said, raising his voice and

looking sternly at her.

She did not answer. Looking intently at him, at his face, his

hands, she recalled all the details of their reconciliation the

previous day, and his passionate caresses. "There, just such

caresses he has lavished, and will lavish, and longs to lavish on

other women!" she thought.

"You don't love your mother. That's all talk, and talk, and

talk!" she said, looking at him with hatred in her eyes.

"Even if so, you must..."

"Must decide, and I have decided," she said, and she would have

gone away, but at that moment Yashvin walked into the room. Anna

greeted him and remained.

Why, when there was a tempest in her soul, and she felt she was

standing at a turning point in her life, which might have fearful

consequences--why, at that minute, she had to keep up appearances

before an outsider, who sooner or later must know it all--she did

not know. But at once quelling the storm within her, she sat

down and began talking to their guest.