Anna Karenina - LimpidSoft

PART SEVEN CHAPTER 29
“No,” answered the porter.
“Then, since it’s so, I know what I must do,” she said, and feeling a vague fury
and craving for revenge rising up within her, she ran upstairs. “I’ll go to him myself.
Before going away forever, I’ll tell him all. Never have I hated anyone as I hate that
man!” she thought. Seeing his hat on the rack, she shuddered with aversion. She
did not consider that his telegram was an answer to her telegram and that he had
not yet received her note. She pictured him to herself as talking calmly to his mother
and Princess Sorokina and rejoicing at her sufferings. “Yes, I must go quickly,” she
said, not knowing yet where she was going. She longed to get away as quickly as
possible from the feelings she had gone through in that awful house. The servants,
the walls, the things in that house–all aroused repulsion and hatred in her and lay
like a weight upon her.
“Yes, I must go to the railway station, and if he’s not there, then go there and
catch him.” Anna looked at the railway timetable in the newspapers. An evening
train went at two minutes past eight. “Yes, I shall be in time.” She gave orders for
the other horses to be put in the carriage, and packed in a traveling-bag the things
needed for a few days. She knew she would never come back here again.
Among the plans that came into her head she vaguely determined that after what
would happen at the station or at the countess’s house, she would go as far as the
first town on the Nizhni road and stop there.
Dinner was on the table; she went up, but the smell of the bread and cheese was
enough to make her feel that all food was disgusting. She ordered the carriage and
went out. The house threw a shadow now right across the street, but it was a bright
evening and still warm in the sunshine. Annushka, who came down with her things,
and Pyotr, who put the things in the carriage, and the coachman, evidently out of
humor, were all hateful to her, and irritated her by their words and actions.
“I don’t want you, Pyotr.”
“But how about the ticket?”
“Well, as you like, it doesn’t matter,” she said crossly.
Pyotr jumped on the box, and putting his arms akimbo, told the coachman to drive
to the booking-office.
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