Page 900 - ANNA KARENINA

Anna Karenina

little white hands thrust out from the sleeves of her
dressing gown were playing with the quilt, twisting it
about. It seemed as though she were not only well and
blooming, but in the happiest frame of mind. She was

talking rapidly, musically, and with exceptionally correct
articulation and expressive intonation.
‘For Alexey—I am speaking of Alexey Alexandrovitch
(what a strange and awful thing that both are Alexey, isn’t
it?)—Alexey would not refuse me. I should forget, he
would forgive.... But why doesn’t he come? He’s so good
he doesn’t know himself how good he is. Ah, my God,
what agony! Give me some water, quick! Oh, that will be
bad for her, my little girl! Oh, very well then, give her to
a nurse. Yes, I agree, it’s better in fact. He’ll be coming; it
will hurt him to see her. Give her to the nurse.’
‘Anna Arkadyevna, he has come. Here he is!’ said the
midwife, trying to attract her attention to Alexey
Alexandrovitch.
‘Oh, what nonsense!’ Anna went on, not seeing her
husband. ‘No, give her to me; give me my little one! He
has not come yet. You say he won’t forgive me, because
you don’t know him. No one knows him. I’m the only
one, and it was hard for me even. His eyes I ought to
know—Seryozha has just the same eyes—and I can’t bear

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