Anna Karenina - LimpidSoft

PART SIX CHAPTER 32
pecting the carriage to arrive. Several times she had fancied she heard the sound
of wheels, but she had been mistaken. At last she heard not the sound of wheels,
but the coachman’s shout and the dull rumble in the covered entry. Even Princess
Varvara, playing patience, confirmed this, and Anna, flushing hotly, got up; but instead
of going down, as she had done twice before, she stood still. She suddenly
felt ashamed of her duplicity, but even more she dreaded how he might meet her.
All feeling of wounded pride had passed now; she was only afraid of the expression
of his displeasure. She remembered that her child had been perfectly well again for
the last two days. She felt positively vexed with her for getting better from the very
moment her letter was sent off. Then she thought of him, that he was here, all of
him, with his hands, his eyes. She heard his voice. And forgetting everything, she
ran joyfully to meet him.
“Well, how is Annie?” he said timidly from below, looking up to Anna as she ran
down to him.
He was sitting on a chair, and a footman was pulling off his warm over-boot.
“Oh, she is better.”
“And you?” he said, shaking himself.
She took his hand in both of hers, and drew it to her waist, never taking her eyes
off him.
“Well, I’m glad,” he said, coldly scanning her, her hair, her dress, which he knew
she had put on for him. All was charming, but how many times it had charmed him!
And the stern, stony expression that she so dreaded settled upon his face.
“Well, I’m glad. And are you well?” he said, wiping his damp beard with his
handkerchief and kissing her hand.
“Never mind,” she thought, “only let him be here, and so long as he’s here he
cannot, he dare not, cease to love me.”
The evening was spent happily and gaily in the presence of Princess Varvara, who
complained to him that Anna had been taking morphine in his absence.
“What am I to do? I couldn’t sleep.... My thoughts prevented me. When he’s here
I never take it–hardly ever.”
He told her about the election, and Anna knew how by adroit questions to bring
him to what gave him most pleasure–his own success. She told him of everything
that interested him at home; and all that she told him was of the most cheerful description.
But late in the evening, when they were alone, Anna, seeing that she had regained
complete possession of him, wanted to erase the painful impression of the glance he
had given her for her letter. She said:
“Tell me frankly, you were vexed at getting my letter, and you didn’t believe me?”
As soon as she had said it, she felt that however warm his feelings were to her, he
had not forgiven her for that.
“Yes,” he said, “the letter was so strange. First, Annie ill, and then you thought of
coming yourself.”
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