"What am I coming for?" he repeated, looking straight into her eyes. "You
know that I have come to be where you are," he said; "I can't help it."
At that moment the wind, as it were,
surmounting all obstacles, sent the
snow flying from the carriage roofs, and clanked some sheet of iron it had
torn off, while the hoarse whistle of the engine roared in front, plaintively
and gloomily. All the awfulness of the storm seemed to her more splendid
now. He had said what her soul longed to hear, though she feared it with
her reason. She made no answer, and in her face he saw conflict.
"Forgive me, if you dislike what I said," he said humbly.
He had spoken courteously, deferentially,
yet so firmly, so stubbornly, that
for a long while she could make no answer.
"It's wrong, what you say, and I beg you, if you're a good man, to forget
what you've said, as I forget it," she said at last.
"Not one word, not one gesture of yours shall I, could I, ever forget..."
"Enough, enough!" she cried trying assiduously to give a stern expression
to her face, into which he was gazing greedily. And clutching at the cold
door post, she clambered up the steps and got rapidly into the corridor of
the carriage. But in
the little corridor she paused, going over in her
imagination what had happened. Though she could not recall her own
words or his, she realized instinctively that the momentary conversation
had brought them fearfully closer; and she was panic-stricken and blissful
at it. After standing still a few seconds, she went into the carriage and sat
down in her place. The overstrained condition which had tormented her
before did not only come back, but was intensified, and reached such a
pitch that she was afraid every minute that something would snap within
her from the excessive tension. She did not sleep all night. But in that
nervous tension, and in the visions
that filled her imagination, there was
nothing disagreeable or gloomy: on the contrary there was something
blissful, glowing, and exhilarating. Towards morning Anna sank into a
doze, sitting in her place, and when she waked it was daylight and the train
Chapter 30
147
was near Petersburg. At once thoughts of home, of husband and of son, and
the details of that day and the following came upon her.
At Petersburg, as soon as the train stopped and she got out, the first person
that attracted her attention was her husband. "Oh, mercy! why do his ears
look like that?" she thought, looking at
his frigid and imposing figure, and
especially the ears that struck her at the moment as propping up the brim of
his round hat. Catching sight of her, he came to meet her, his lips falling
into their habitual sarcastic smile, and his big, tired eyes looking straight at
her. An unpleasant sensation gripped at her heart when she met his
obstinate and weary glance, as though she had expected to see him
different. She was especially struck by the feeling of dissatisfaction with
herself that she experienced on meeting him. That feeling was an intimate,
familiar feeling, like
a consciousness of hypocrisy, which she experienced
in her relations with her husband. But hitherto she had not taken note of the
feeling, now she was clearly and painfully aware of it.
"Yes, as you see, your tender spouse, as devoted as the first year after
marriage, burned with impatience to see you," he said in his deliberate,
high-pitched voice, and in that tone which he almost always took with her,
a tone of jeering at anyone who should say in earnest what he said.
"Is Seryozha quite well?" she asked.
"And is this all the reward," said he, "for my ardor? He's quite well..."
Chapter 30
148