"No, Alexey Alexandrovitch; I brought Anna and I promised to take

her home," put in Betsy.

"Excuse me, princess," he said, smiling courteously but looking

her very firmly in the face, "but I see that Anna's not very

well, and I wish her to come home with me."

Anna looked about her in a frightened way, got up submissively,

and laid her hand on her husband's arm.

"I'll send to him and find out, and let you know," Betsy

whispered to her.

As they left the pavilion, Alexey Alexandrovitch, as always,

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talked to those he met, and Anna had, as always, to talk and

answer; but she was utterly beside herself, and moved hanging on

her husband's arm as though in a dream.

"Is he killed or not? Is it true? Will he come or not? Shall I

see him today?" she was thinking.

She took her seat in her husband's carriage in silence, and in

silence drove out of the crowd of carriages. In spite of all he

had seen, Alexey Alexandrovitch still did not allow himself to

consider his wife's real condition. He merely saw the outward

symptoms. He saw that she was behaving unbecomingly, and

considered it his duty to tell her so. But it was very difficult

for him not to say more, to tell her nothing but that. He opened

his mouth to tell her she had behaved unbecomingly, but he could

not help saying something utterly different.

"What an inclination we all have, though, for these cruel

spectacles," he said. "I observe..."

"Eh? I don't understand," said Anna contemptuously.

He was offended, and at once began to say what he had meant to

say.

"I am obliged to tell you," he began.

"So now we are to have it out," she thought, and she felt

frightened.

"I am obliged to tell you that your behavior has been unbecoming

today," he said to her in French.

"In what way has my behavior been unbecoming?" she said aloud,

turning her head swiftly and looking him straight in the face,

not with the bright expression that seemed covering something,

but with a look of determination, under which she concealed with

difficulty the dismay she was feeling.

"Mind," he said, pointing to the open window opposite the

coachman.

He got up and pulled up the window.

"What did you consider unbecoming?" she repeated.

"The despair you were unable to conceal at the accident to one of

the riders."




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