"What if she does not love me? What if she's marrying me simply

to be married? What if she doesn't see herself what she's

doing?" he asked himself. "She may come to her senses, and only

when she is being married realize that she does not and cannot

love me." And strange, most evil thoughts of her began to come

to him. He was jealous of Vronsky, as he had been a year ago, as

though the evening he had seen her with Vronsky had been

yesterday. He suspected she had not told him everything.

He jumped up quickly. "No, this can't go on!" he said to himself

in despair. "I'll go to her; I'll ask her; I'll say for the last

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time: we are free, and hadn't we better stay so? Anything's

better than endless misery, disgrace, unfaithfulness!" With

despair in his heart and bitter anger against all men, against

himself, against her, he went out of the hotel and drove to her

house.

He found her in one of the back rooms. She was sitting on a

chest and making some arrangements with her maid, sorting over

heaps of dresses of different colors, spread on the backs of

chairs and on the floor.

"Ah!" she cried, seeing him, and beaming with delight. "Kostya!

Konstantin Dmitrievitch!" (These latter days she used these names

almost alternately.) "I didn't expect you! I'm going through my

wardrobe to see what's for whom..."

"Oh! that's very nice!" he said gloomily, looking at the maid.

"You can go, Dunyasha, I'll call you presently," said Kitty.

"Kostya, what's the matter?" she asked, definitely adopting this

familiar name as soon as the maid had gone out. She noticed his

strange face, agitated and gloomy, and a panic came over her.

"Kitty! I'm in torture. I can't suffer alone," he said with

despair in his voice, standing before her and looking imploringly

into her eyes. He saw already from her loving, truthful face,

that nothing could come of what he had meant to say, but yet he

wanted her to reassure him herself. "I've come to say that

there's still time. This can all be stopped and set right."

"What? I don't understand. What is the matter?"

"What I have said a thousand times over, and can't help thinking

...that I'm not worthy of you. You couldn't consent to marry

me. Think a little. You've made a mistake. Think it over

thoroughly. You can't love me.... If...better say so," he said,

not looking at her. "I shall be wretched. Let people say what

they like; anything's better than misery.... Far better now

while there's still time...."




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