In the morning she was waked by a horrible nightmare, which had

recurred several times in her dreams, even before her connection

with Vronsky. A little old man with unkempt beard was doing

something bent down over some iron, muttering meaningless French

words, and she, as she always did in this nightmare (it was what

made the horror of it), felt that this peasant was taking no

notice of her, but was doing something horrible with the iron--

over her. And she waked up in a cold sweat.

When she got up, the previous day came back to her as though

veiled in mist.

"There was a quarrel. Just what has happened several times. I

said I had a headache, and he did not come in to see me.

Tomorrow we're going away; I must see him and get ready for the

journey," she said to herself. And learning that he was in his

study, she went down to him. As she passed through the

drawing room she heard a carriage stop at the entrance, and

looking out of the window she saw the carriage, from which a

young girl in a lilac hat was leaning out giving some direction

to the footman ringing the bell. After a parley in the hall,

someone came upstairs, and Vronsky's steps could be heard passing

the drawing room. He went rapidly downstairs. Anna went again

to the window. She saw him come out onto the steps without his

hat and go up to the carriage. The young girl in the lilac hat

handed him a parcel. Vronsky, smiling, said something to her.

The carriage drove away, he ran rapidly upstairs again.

The mists that had shrouded everything in her soul parted

suddenly. The feelings of yesterday pierced the sick heart with

a fresh pang. She could not understand now how she could have

lowered herself by spending a whole day with him in his house.

She went into his room to announce her determination.

"That was Madame Sorokina and her daughter. They came and

brought me the money and the deeds from maman. I couldn't get

them yesterday. How is your head, better?" he said quietly, not

wishing to see and to understand the gloomy and solemn expression

of her face.

She looked silently, intently at him, standing in the middle of

the room. He glanced at her, frowned for a moment, and went on

reading a letter. She turned, and went deliberately out of the

room. He still might have turned her back, but she had reached

the door, he was still silent, and the only sound audible was the

rustling of the note paper as he turned it.




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