Anna Karenina - LimpidSoft

PART FOUR CHAPTER 17
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.
The nervous agitation of Alexey Alexandrovitch kept increasing, and had by now
reached such a point that he ceased to struggle with it. He suddenly felt that what he
had regarded as nervous agitation was on the contrary a blissful spiritual condition
that gave him all at once a new happiness he had never known. He did not think
that the Christian law that he had been all his life trying to follow, enjoined on him
to forgive and love his enemies; but a glad feeling of love and forgiveness for his
enemies filled his heart. He knelt down, and laying his head in the curve of her arm,
which burned him as with fire through the sleeve, he sobbed like a little child. She
put her arm around his head, moved towards him, and with defiant pride lifted up
her eyes.
“That is he. I knew him! Now, forgive me, everyone, forgive me!... They’ve come
again; why don’t they go away?... Oh, take these cloaks off me!”
The doctor unloosed her hands, carefully laying her on the pillow, and covered her
up to the shoulders. She lay back submissively, and looked before her with beaming
eyes.
“Remember one thing, that I needed nothing but forgiveness, and I want nothing
more.... Why doesn’t he come?” she said, turning to the door towards Vronsky. “Do
come, do come! Give him your hand.”
Vronsky came to the side of the bed, and seeing Anna, again hid his face in his
hands.
“Uncover your face–look at him! He’s a saint,” she said. “Oh! uncover your face,
do uncover it!” she said angrily. “Alexey Alexandrovitch, do uncover his face! I
want to see him.”
Alexey Alexandrovitch took Vronsky’s hands and drew them away from his face,
which was awful with the expression of agony and shame upon it.
“Give him your hand. Forgive him.”
Alexey Alexandrovitch gave him his hand, not attempting to restrain the tears that
streamed from his eyes.
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