"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.

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"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.




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