Page 1441 - ANNA KARENINA

Anna Karenina

was not serious. However hard she tried, she could not
love this little child, and to feign love was beyond her
powers. Towards the evening of that day, still alone, Anna
was in such a panic about him that she decided to start for

the town, but on second thoughts wrote him the
contradictory letter that Vronsky received, and without
reading it through, sent it off by a special messenger. The
next morning she received his letter and regretted her
own. She dreaded a repetition of the severe look he had
flung at her at parting, especially when he knew that the
baby was not dangerously ill. But still she was glad she had
written to him. At this moment Anna was positively
admitting to herself that she was a burden to him, that he
would relinquish his freedom regretfully to return to her,
and in spite of that she was glad he was coming. Let him
weary of her, but he would be here with her, so that she
would see him, would know of every action he took.
She was sitting in the drawing room near a lamp, with
a new volume of Taine, and as she read, listening to the
sound of the wind outside, and every minute expecting
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

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