Feeling that the reconciliation was complete, Anna set eagerly
to work in the morning preparing for their departure. Though it
was not settled whether they should go on Monday or Tuesday, as
they had each given way to the other, Anna packed busily, feeling
absolutely indifferent whether they went a day earlier or later.
She was standing in her room over an open box, taking things out
of it, when he came in to see her earlier than usual, dressed
to go out.
"I'm going off at once to see maman; she can send me the money by
Yegorov. And I shall be ready to go tomorrow," he said.
Though she was in such a good mood, the thought of his visit to
his mother's gave her a pang.
"No, I shan't be ready by then myself," she said; and at once
reflected, "so then it was possible to arrange to do as I
wished." "No, do as you meant to do. Go into the dining room,
I'm coming directly. It's only to turn out those things that
aren't wanted," she said, putting something more on the heap of
frippery that lay in Annushka's arms.
Vronsky was eating his beefsteak when she came into the dining-
room.
"You wouldn't believe how distasteful these rooms have become to
me," she said, sitting down beside him to her coffee. "There's
nothing more awful than these _chambres garnies_. There's no
individuality in them, no soul. These clocks, and curtains, and,
worst of all, the wallpapers--they're a nightmare. I think of
Vozdvizhenskoe as the promised land. You're not sending the
horses off yet?"
"No, they will come after us. Where are you going to?"
"I wanted to go to Wilson's to take some dresses to her. So it's
really to be tomorrow?" she said in a cheerful voice; but
suddenly her face changed.
Vronsky's valet came in to ask him to sign a receipt for a
telegram from Petersburg. There was nothing out of the way in
Vronsky's getting a telegram, but he said, as though anxious to
conceal something from her, that the receipt was in his study,
and he turned hurriedly to her.
"By tomorrow, without fail, I will finish it all."
"From whom is the telegram?" she asked, not hearing him.
"From Stiva," he answered reluctantly.
"Why didn't you show it to me? What secret can there be between
Stiva and me?"
Vronsky called the valet back, and told him to bring the
telegram.
"I didn't want to show it to you, because Stiva has such a
passion for telegraphing: why telegraph when nothing is settled?"