# Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part Two/Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX
Anna entered with bent head, playing with the tassels of her bashluik or Turkish hood. Her face shone with a bright glow, but this bright glow did not betoken joy; it reminded one of the terrible glow of a conflagration against a midnight sky. When she saw her husband, she raised her head and smiled, as if she had awakened from a dream.
"You are not abed yet? what a miracle!" she said, taking off her bashluik; and, without pausing, she went into her dressing-room, crying, "It is late, Alekseï Aleksandrovitch," as she got to the door.
"Anna, I must have a talk with you."
"With me?" she said, in astonishment, coming out into the hall, and looking at him. "What is it? What about?" she asked, and sat down. "Well, let us talk, ​then, if it is so necessary; but I would much rather go to sleep."
Anna said what came to her tongue, and was astonished to hear herself, astonished at her own facility at telling a lie. How perfectly natural her words sounded, and how probable that she wanted to go to sleep; she felt herself clad in an impenetrable armor of falsehood. She felt that some invisible power assisted her and sustained her.
"Anna, I must give you a warning."
"A warning?" she exclaimed; "why?"
She looked at him so innocently, so gayly, that any one who did not know her as her husband did would have noticed nothing unnatural either in the tone of her voice or in the meaning of what she said. But for him, who knew her, who knew that when he was five minutes later than usual she always remarked on it, and asked the reason, for him who knew that her first impulse was always to tell him of her pleasures and her sorrows, for him now to see the fact that Anna took special pains not to observe his agitation, that she took special pains not to say a word about herself, all this was very significant. He saw that the depths of her soul, hitherto always opened to his gaze, were now shut away from him. Moreover, by her tone he perceived that she was not confused by this; but as it were she said openly and without dissimulation, "Yes, I am a sealed book, and so it must be, and will be from henceforth."
He felt as a man would who should come home and find his house barricaded against him.
"Perhaps the key will yet be found," thought Alekseï Aleksandrovitch.
"I want to warn you," said he, in a gentle voice, "lest by your imprudence and your thoughtlessness you give people cause to talk about you. Your rather too lively conversation this evening with Count Vronsky"—he pronounced this name slowly and distinctly—"attracted attention."
He finished speaking, and looked at Anna's laughing eyes, now terrible to him because they were so impene​trable, and he saw all the idleness and uselessness of his words.
"You are always like this," she said, as if she had not understood him, and intentionally had understood only the last part of what he said. "Sometimes you don't like it because I am bored, and sometimes you don't like it because I have a good time. I was not bored this evening; does that disturb you?"
Alekseï Aleksandrovitch trembled; again he stretched his fingers till the knuckles cracked.
"Akh! I beg of you, don't crack your fingers, I detest it so," said she.
"Anna, is this you?" said Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, trying to control himself, and stopping the movement of his hands.
"Yes! but what is it?" she asked, with a sincere and almost comic astonishment. "What do you want of me?"
Alekseï Aleksandrovitch was silent, and passed his hand across his brow and over his eyes. He felt that, instead of having done as he intended, that is, instead of having warned his wife of her errors in the sight of the world, he was agitated at what concerned her conscience, and was perhaps striking some imaginary wall.
"This is what I wanted to say," he continued, coldly and calmly, "and I beg you to listen to me until I have done. As you know, I regard jealousy as an insulting and degrading sentiment, and I never allow myself to be led away by it; but there are certain laws of propriety which one cannot cross with impunity. This evening, judging by the impression which you made,—I am not the only one that noticed it, all did,—you did not conduct yourself at all in a proper manner."
"Decidedly I do not understand at all," said Anna, shrugging her shoulders. "He does not really care," she thought; "all that he fears is the opinion of the world."—"You are not well, Alekseï Aleksandrovitch," she added, rising, and starting to go to her room.
​But he stepped in front of her as if to prevent her from going. Never had Anna seen his face so displeased and ugly; she remained standing, tipping her head to one side, while with quick fingers she began to pull out the hair-pins.
"Well! I will hear what you have to say," she said, in a calm, bantering tone; "I shall even listen with interest, because I should like to know what it is all about."
She herself was astonished at the assurance and calm naturalness with which she spoke, as well as at her choice of words.
"I have no right to examine your feelings. I think it is useless and even dangerous," Alekseï Aleksandrovitch began. "If we probe too deeply into our hearts, we run the risk of touching on what we ought not to perceive. Your feelings concern your conscience. But in presence of yourself, of me, and of God, I am in duty bound to remind you of your obligations. Our lives are united, not by men, but by God. Only by crime can this bond be broken, and such a crime brings its own punishment."
"I don't understand at all. Oh, heavens, how sleepy I am!" said Anna, swiftly running her hand over her hair, and taking out the last pin.
"Anna! in the name of Heaven, don't speak so," said he, gently. "Maybe I am mistaken; but believe me, what I say to you is as much for your advantage as for mine; I am your husband, and I love you."
Anna's face for an instant grew troubled, and the mocking fire disappeared from her eyes; but the word "love" irritated her. "Love!" she thought; "does he know what it means? If he had never heard that there was such a thing as love, he would never have used that word."
"Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, truly, I don't know what you mean," she said. "They say you find .... "
"Allow me to finish. I love you, but I am not speaking for myself; those who are chiefly interested are our son and yourself. It is quite possible, I repeat, that my ​words may seem idle and ill-judged; possibly they are the result of mistake on my part. In that case, I beg you to forgive me; but if you yourself feel that there is the least foundation for my remarks, then I earnestly urge you to reflect, and, if your heart inclines you, to confide in me." ....
Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, without noticing the fact, had spoken a very different discourse from the one that he had prepared.
"I have nothing to say." And she added in a sprightly tone, scarcely hiding a smile, "Truly, it is time to go to bed."
Alekseï Aleksandrovitch sighed, and, without speaking further, went to their chamber.
When she reached the room, he was already in bed. His lips were sternly set, and he did not look at her. Anna got into bed, every moment expecting that he would speak to her again; she both feared it and desired it, but he said nothing.
She waited long without moving, and then forgot all about him. She was thinking of some one else; she saw him and was conscious of her heart throbbing with emotion and with guilty joy. Suddenly she heard a slow and regular sound of snoring. Alekseï Aleksandrovitch at first seemed to be startled himself, and stopped; but at the end of a second the snoring began again with monotonous regularity.
"Too late! too late!" she whispered, with a smile. She lay for a long time thus, motionless, with open eyes, the shining of which it seemed to her she herself could see in the darkness.