He had recovered himself, and lifted his head.

"How absurd! What absurd nonsense you are talking!"

"No, it's the truth."

"What, what's the truth?"

"That I shall die. I have had a dream."

"A dream?" repeated Vronsky, and instantly he recalled the

peasant of his dream.

"Yes, a dream," she said. "It's a long while since I dreamed it.

I dreamed that I ran into my bedroom, that I had to get something

there, to find out something; you know how it is in dreams," she

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said, her eyes wide with horror; "and in the bedroom, in the

corner, stood something."

"Oh, what nonsense! How can you believe..."

But she would not let him interrupt her. What she was saying was

too important to her.

"And the something turned round, and I saw it was a peasant with

a disheveled beard, little, and dreadful looking. I wanted to

run away, but he bent down over a sack, and was fumbling there

with his hands..."

She showed how he had moved his hands. There was terror in her

face. And Vronsky, remembering his dream, felt the same terror

filling his soul.

"He was fumbling and kept talking quickly, quickly in French, you

know: _Il faut le battre, le fer, le brayer, le pétrir_.... And in

my horror I tried to wake up, and woke up...but woke up in

the dream. And I began asking myself what it meant. And Korney

said to me: 'In childbirth you'll die, ma'am, you'll die....'

And I woke up."

"What nonsense, what nonsense!" said Vronsky; but he felt himself

that there was no conviction in his voice.

"But don't let's talk of it. Ring the bell, I'll have tea. And

stay a little now; it's not long I shall..."

But all at once she stopped. The expression of her face

instantaneously changed. Horror and excitement were suddenly

replaced by a look of soft, solemn, blissful attention. He could

not comprehend the meaning of the change. She was listening to

the stirring of the new life within her.




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