Seeing Alexey Alexandrovitch with his Petersburg face and

severely self-confident figure, in his round hat, with his rather

prominent spine, he believed in him, and was aware of a

disagreeable sensation, such as a man might feel tortured by

thirst, who, on reaching a spring, should find a dog, a sheep, or

a pig, who has drunk of it and muddied the water. Alexey

Alexandrovitch's manner of walking, with a swing of the hips and

flat feet, particularly annoyed Vronsky. He could recognize in

no one but himself an indubitable right to love her. But she was

still the same, and the sight of her affected him the same way,

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physically reviving him, stirring him, and filling his soul with

rapture. He told his German valet, who ran up to him from the

second class, to take his things and go on, and he himself went

up to her. He saw the first meeting between the husband and

wife, and noted with a lover's insight the signs of slight

reserve with which she spoke to her husband. "No, she does not

love him and cannot love him," he decided to himself.

At the moment when he was approaching Anna Arkadyevna he noticed

too with joy that she was conscious of his being near, and looked

round, and seeing him, turned again to her husband.

"Have you passed a good night?" he asked, bowing to her and her

husband together, and leaving it up to Alexey Alexandrovitch to

accept the bow on his own account, and to recognize it or not, as

he might see fit.

"Thank you, very good," she answered.

Her face looked weary, and there was not that play of eagerness

in it, peeping out in her smile and her eyes; but for a single

instant, as she glanced at him, there was a flash of something in

her eyes, and although the flash died away at once, he was happy

for that moment. She glanced at her husband to find out whether

he knew Vronsky. Alexey Alexandrovitch looked at Vronsky with

displeasure, vaguely recalling who this was. Vronsky's composure

and self-confidence here struck, like a scythe against a stone,

upon the cold self-confidence of Alexey Alexandrovitch.

"Count Vronsky," said Anna.

"Ah! We are acquainted, I believe," said Alexey Alexandrovitch

indifferently, giving his hand.

"You set off with the mother and you return with the son," he

said, articulating each syllable, as though each were a separate

favor he was bestowing.

"You're back from leave, I suppose?" he said, and without waiting

for a reply, he turned to his wife in his jesting tone: "Well,

were a great many tears shed at Moscow at parting?"