"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,
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."