"Oh, by the way," he said at the very moment she was in the

doorway, "we're going tomorrow for certain, aren't we?"

"You, but not I," she said, turning round to him.

"Anna, we can't go on like this..."

"You, but not I," she repeated.

"This is getting unbearable!"

"You...you will be sorry for this," she said, and went out.

Frightened by the desperate expression with which these words

were uttered, he jumped up and would have run after her, but on

second thoughts he sat down and scowled, setting his teeth. This

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vulgar--as he thought it--threat of something vague exasperated

him. "I've tried everything," he thought; "the only thing left

is not to pay attention," and he began to get ready to drive into

town, and again to his mother's to get her signature to the

deeds.

She heard the sound of his steps about the study and the dining

room. At the drawing room he stood still. But he did not turn

in to see her, he merely gave an order that the horse should be

given to Voytov if he came while he was away. Then she heard the

carriage brought round, the door opened, and he came out again.

But he went back into the porch again, and someone was running

upstairs. It was the valet running up for his gloves that had

been forgotten. She went to the window and saw him take the

gloves without looking, and touching the coachman on the back he

said something to him. Then without looking up at the window he

settled himself in his usual attitude in the carriage, with his

legs crossed, and drawing on his gloves he vanished round the

corner.




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