‘Oh, no! But, you know, such things don’t get forgiven.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Anna, turning away and looking out of the open window. ‘But it wasn’t my fault. And whose fault was it? What does “fault” mean? Could it have been otherwise? What do you think? Could you not be Stiva’s wife?’
‘I really don’t know. But tell me this ...’
‘Yes, yes, but we haven’t finished about Kitty. Is she happy? He’s a wonderful man, they say.’
‘To say he’s wonderful isn’t enough. I don’t know a better man.’
‘Ah, I’m so glad! I’m very glad! To say he’s a wonderful man isn’t enough,’ she repeated.
Dolly smiled.
‘But tell me about yourself. I must have a long talk with you. I spoke with ...’ Dolly did not know what to call him. She felt awkward calling him either the count or Alexei Kirillych.
‘With Alexei,’ Anna said. ‘I know you did. But I wanted to ask you directly - what do you think about me, about my life?’
‘How can I say so suddenly? I really don’t know.’
‘No, tell me all the same ... You see my life. But don’t forget you’re seeing us in the summer, on a visit, and that we’re not by ourselves ... But we came in early spring, we lived completely alone, and we shall live alone, and I don’t wish for anything better than that. But imagine me living alone without him, alone - and it will happen ... Everything tells me that it will be repeated often, that he will spend half his time away from home,’ she said, getting up and moving closer to Dolly.
‘Of course,’ she interrupted Dolly, who was about to object, ‘of course, I can’t keep him by force. And I’m not keeping him now. There’s a race today, his horses are in it, off he goes. I’m very glad. But think of me, imagine my position ... Ah, why speak of that!’ She smiled. ‘So, what did he talk about with you?’
‘He talked about what I myself want to talk about, and it’s easy for me to be his advocate: about whether it mightn’t be possible, whether you couldn’t ...’ Darya Alexandrovna faltered, ‘improve your situation, put it right ... You know how I look at ... But all the same, if possible, you should get married ...’
‘Meaning a divorce?’ said Anna. ‘You know, the only woman who came to see me in Petersburg was Betsy Tverskoy. Do you know her?
‘He said he suffers for you and for himself. You may say it’s egoism, but it’s such legitimate and noble egoism! He would like, first of all, to legitimize his daughter and to be your husband, to have the right to you.’
‘What wife, what slave, can be so much a slave as I am, in my situation?’ she interrupted gloomily.
‘And the main thing he wants ... he wants you not to suffer.’
‘That’s impossible! Well?’
‘Well, and the most legitimate thing - he wants your children to have a name.’
‘What children?’ said Anna, not looking at Dolly and narrowing her eyes.
‘Annie, and the future ...’
‘He can rest easy about that, I won’t have any more children.’
‘How can you say you won’t have any more? ...’
‘I won’t, because I don’t want it.’
And, despite all her excitement, Anna smiled, noticing the naive look of curiosity, astonishment and horror on Dolly’s face.
‘The doctor told me after my illness ..........
‘It can’t be!’ said Dolly, wide-eyed. For her it was one of those discoveries the consequences and conclusions of which are so enormous that for the first moment one feels only that it is impossible to grasp it all, but that one must think about it a great, great deal.
This discovery, which suddenly explained for her all those formerly incomprehensible families with only one or two children, called up in her so many thoughts, reflections and contradictory feelings that she was unable to say anything and only looked at Anna with wide-eyed astonishment. This was the very thing she had dreamed of that morning on her way there, but now, on learning that it was possible, she was horrified. She felt it was a much too simple solution of a much too complicated question.
‘Why? Consider, I have to choose between the two: either to become pregnant, meaning ill, or to be a friend, a companion for my husband, or the same as my husband,’ Anna said in a deliberately superficial and frivolous tone.
‘Ah, yes, yes,’ Darya Alexandrovna repeated, listening to the very same arguments she had produced for herself and finding them no longer convincing.
‘For you, for others,’ Anna said, as if guessing her thoughts, ‘there may still be doubt, but for me ... Understand, I’m not a wife. He loves me as long as he loves me. And what then, how am I to keep his love? With this?’
She held her white arms out in front of her stomach.
