Approaching footsteps--his steps--distracted her attention. As
though absorbed in the arrangement of her rings, she did not even
turn to him.
He went up to her, and taking her by the hand, said softly: "Anna, we'll go the day after tomorrow, if you like. I agree
to everything."
She did not speak.
"What is it?" he urged.
"You know," she said, and at the same instant, unable to restrain
herself any longer, she burst into sobs.
"Cast me off!" she articulated between her sobs. "I'll go away
tomorrow...I'll do more. What am I? An immoral woman! A stone
round your neck. I don't want to make you wretched, I don't want
to! I'll set you free. You don't love me; you love someone
else!"
Vronsky besought her to be calm, and declared that there was no
trace of foundation for her jealousy; that he had never ceased,
and never would cease, to love her; that he loved her more than
ever.
"Anna, why distress yourself and me so?" he said to her, kissing
her hands. There was tenderness now in his face, and she fancied
she caught the sound of tears in his voice, and she felt them wet
on her hand. And instantly Anna's despairing jealousy changed to
a despairing passion of tenderness. She put her arms round him,
and covered with kisses his head, his neck, his hands.