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_ After taking leave of her guests, Anna did not sit down, but
began walking up and down the room. She had unconsciously the
whole evening done her utmost to arouse in Levin a feeling of
love--as of late she had fallen into doing with all young men--
and she knew she had attained her aim, as far as was possible in
one evening, with a married and conscientious man. She liked him
indeed extremely, and, in spite of the striking difference, from
the masculine point of view, between Vronsky and Levin, as a
woman she saw something they had in common, which had made Kitty
able to love both. Yet as soon as he was out of the room, she
ceased to think of him.
One thought, and one only, pursued her in different forms, and
refused to be shaken off. "If I have so much effect on others, on
this man, who loves his home and his wife, why is it he is so
cold to me? ...not cold exactly, he loves me, I know that! But
something new is drawing us apart now. Why wasn't he here all the
evening? He told Stiva to say he could not leave Yashvin, and
must watch over his play. Is Yashvin a child? But supposing it's
true. He never tells a lie. But there's something else in it if
it's true. He is glad of an opportunity of showing me that he has
other duties; I know that, I submit to that. But why prove that
to me? He wants to show me that his love for me is not to
interfere with his freedom. But I need no proofs, I need love. He
ought to understand all the bitterness of this life for me here
in Moscow. Is this life? I am not living, but waiting for an
event, which is continually put off and put off. No answer againl
And Stiva says he cannot go to Alexey Alexandrovitch. And I can't
write again. I can do nothing, can begin nothing, can alter
nothing; I hold myself in, I wait, inventing amusements for
myself --the English family, writing, reading--but it's all
nothing but a sham, it's all the same as morphine. He ought to
feel for me," she said, feeling tears of self-pity coming into
her eyes.
She heard Vronsky's abrupt ring and hurriedly dried her tears not
only dried her tears, but sat down by a lamp and opened a book,
affecting composure. She wanted to show him that she was
displeased that he had not come home as he had promised--
displeased only,and not on any account to let him see her
distress, and least of all, her self-pity. She might pity
herself, but he must not pity her. She did not want strife, she
blamed him for wanting to quarrel, but unconsciously put herself
into an attitude of antagonism.
"Well, you've not been dull?" he said, eagerly and
good-humoredly, going up to her. "What a terrible passion it is--
gambling!"
"No, I've not been dull; I've learned long ago not to be dull.
Stiva has been here and Levin."
"Yes, they meant to come and see you. Well, how did you like
Levin?" he said, sitting down beside her.
"Very much. They have not long been gone. What was Yashvin
doing?"
"He was winning--seventeen thousand. I got him away. He had
really started home, but he went back again, and now he's
losing."
"Then what did you stay for?" she asked, suddenly lifting her
eyes to him. The expression of her face was cold and ungracious.
"You told Stiva you were staying on to get Yashvin away. And you
have left him there."
The same expression of cold readiness for the conflict appeared
on his face too.
"In the first place, I did not ask him to give you any message;
and secondly, I never tell lies. But what's the chief point, I
wanted to stay, and I stayed," he said, frowning. "Anna, what is
it for, why will your" he said after a moment's silence, bending
over towards her, and he opened his hand, hoping she would lay
hers in it.
She was glad of this appeal for tenderness. But some strange
force of evil would not let her give herself up to her feelings,
as though the rules of warfare would not permit her to surrender.
"Of course you wanted to stay, and you stayed. You do everything
you want to. But what do you tell me that for? With what object?"
she said, getting more and more excited. "Does any one contest
your rights? But you want to be right, and you're welcome to be
right."
His hand closed, he turned away, and his face wore a still more
obstinate expression.
"For you it's a matter of obstinacy," she said, watching him
intently and suddenly finding the right word for that expression
that irritated her, "simply obstinacy. For you it's a question of
whether you keep the upper hand of me, while for me . . ." Again
she felt sorry for herself, and she almost burst into tears. "If
you knew what it is for me! When I feel as I do now that you are
hostile, yes, hostile to me, if you knew what this means for me!
If you knew how I feel on the brink of calamity at this instant,
how afraid I am of myself!" And she turned away, hiding her sobs.
"But what are you talking about?" he said, horrified at her
expression of despair, and again bending over her, he took her
hand and kissed it. "What is it for? Do I seek amusements outside
our home? Don't I avoid the society of women?"
"Well, yes! If that were all!" she said.
"Come, tell me what I ought to do to give you peace of mind? I am
ready to do anything to make you happy," he said, touched by her
expression of despair; "what wouldn't I do to save you from
distress of any sort, as now, Anna!" he said.
"It's nothing, nothing!" she said. "I don't know myself whether
it's the solitary life, my nerves ...Come, don't let us talk
of it. What about the race? You haven't told me!" she inquired,
trying to conceal her triumph at the victory, which had anyway
been on her side.
He asked for supper, and began telling her about the races; but
in his tone, in his eyes, which became more and more cold, she
saw that he did not forgive her for her victory, that the feeling
of obstinacy with which she had been struggling had asserted
itself again in him. He was colder to her than before, as though
he were regretting his surrender. And she, remembering the words
that had given her the victory, "how I feel on the brink of
calamity, how afraid I am of myself," saw that this weapon was a
dangerous one, and that it could not be used a second time. And
she felt that beside the love that bound them together there had
grown up between them some evil spirit of strife, which she could
not exorcise from his, and still less from her own heart. _
Read next: Part Seven: Chapter 13
Read previous: Part Seven: Chapter 11
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