"I am very sorry that nothing but what's coarse and material is
comprehensible and natural to you," she said and walked out of
the room.
When he had come in to her yesterday evening, they had not
referred to the quarrel, but both felt that the quarrel had been
smoothed over, but was not at an end.
Today he had not been at home all day, and she felt so lonely
and wretched in being on bad terms with him that she wanted to
forget it all, to forgive him, and be reconciled with him; she
wanted to throw the blame on herself and to justify him.
"I am myself to blame. I'm irritable, I'm insanely jealous. I
will make it up with him, and we'll go away to the country; there
I shall be more at peace."
"Unnatural!" She suddenly recalled the word that had stung her
most of all, not so much the word itself as the intent to wound
her with which it was said. "I know what he meant; he meant--
unnatural, not loving my own daughter, to love another person's
child. What does he know of love for children, of my love for
Seryozha, whom I've sacrificed for him? But that wish to wound
me! No, he loves another woman, it must be so."
And perceiving that, while trying to regain her peace of mind,
she had gone round the same circle that she had been round so
often before, and had come back to her former state of
exasperation, she was horrified at herself. "Can it be
impossible? Can it be beyond me to control myself?" she said to
herself, and began again from the beginning. "He's truthful,
he's honest, he loves me. I love him, and in a few days the
divorce will come. What more do I want? I want peace of mind
and trust, and I will take the blame on myself. Yes, now when he
comes in, I will tell him I was wrong, though I was not wrong,
and we will go away tomorrow."
And to escape thinking any more, and being overcome by
irritability, she rang, and ordered the boxes to be brought up
for packing their things for the country.
At ten o'clock Vronsky came in.