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 breast and convulsive sobs. She wept because her visions about an explanation, about a settlement of her position, had vanished forever. She knew that now all things would go on as before, and even worse than before. She felt that her position in society, which she had slighted, and even that morning counted as dross, was dear to her; that she should never have the strength to abandon it for the shameful position of a woman who has deserted her husband and son and joined her lover; she felt that in spite of all her efforts she should never be stronger than herself. She never would know what freedom to love meant, but would be always a guilty woman, constantly under the threat of detection, deceiving her husband for the disgraceful society of an independent stranger, with whose life she could never join hers. She knew that this would be so, and yet at the same time it was so terrible that she could not acknowledge, even to herself, how it would end. And she wept, unrestrainedly as a child who has been punished sobs.

The steps of a lackey approaching brought her to herself; and, hiding from him her face, she pretended to be writing.

"The courier would like his answer," said the lackey.

"His answer? Oh, yes!" said Anna. "Let him wait. I will ring."

"What can I write?" she asked herself "How decide by myself alone? What do I know? What do I want? Whom do I love?"

Again it seemed to her that in her soul she felt the dual nature. She was alarmed at this feeling, and seized on the first pretext for activity that presented itself so that she might be freed from thoughts about herself.

"I must see Alekseï (thus in thought she called Vronsky); "he alone can tell me what I must do. I will go to Betsy's. Perhaps I shall find him there."

She completely forgot that on the evening before, when she told him that she was not going to the Prin-