Анна Кареніна

Chapter 29

           Therewasnothing.ShewentoverallherMoscowrecollections.Allweregood,pleasant.Sherememberedtheball,rememberedVronskyandhisfaceofslavishadoration,rememberedallherconductwithhim:therewasnothingshameful.Andforallthat,atthesamepointinhermemories,thefeelingofshamewasintensified,asthoughsomeinnervoice,justatthepointwhenshethoughtofVronsky,weresayingtoher,“Warm,verywarm,hot.”“Well,whatisit?”shesaidtoherselfresolutely,shiftingherseatinthelounge.“Whatdoesitmean?AmIafraidtolookitstraightintheface?Why,whatisit?Canitbethatbetweenmeandthisofficerboythereexist,orcanexist,anyotherrelationsthansuchasarecommonwitheveryacquaintance?”Shelaughedcontemptuouslyandtookupherbookagain;butnowshewasdefinitelyunabletofollowwhatsheread.Shepassedthepaper-knifeoverthewindowpane,thenlaiditssmooth,coolsurfacetohercheek,andalmostlaughedaloudatthefeelingofdelightthatallatoncewithoutcausecameoverher.Shefeltasthoughhernerveswerestringsbeingstrainedtighterandtighteronsomesortofscrewingpeg.Shefelthereyesopeningwiderandwider,herfingersandtoestwitchingnervously,somethingwithinoppressingherbreathing,whileallshapesandsoundsseemedintheuncertainhalf-lighttostrikeherwithunaccustomedvividness.Momentsofdoubtwerecontinuallycominguponher,whenshewasuncertainwhetherthetrainweregoingforwardsorbackwards,orwerestandingstillaltogether;whetheritwereAnnushkaathersideorastranger.

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