d that
he sat down again, drawing his head down to his shoulders, as if
he wanted to disappear; but he made an effort over himself, got
up and said:

"She is dying. The doctors say there is no hope. I am entirely
in your power, only let me be here...though I am at your
disposal. I..."

Alexey Alexandrovitch, seeing Vronsky's tears, felt a rush of
that nervous emotion always produced in him by the sight of other
people's suffering, and turning away his face, he moved hurriedly
to the door, without hearing the rest of his words. From the
bedroom came the sound of Anna's voice saying something. Her
voice was lively, eager, with exceedingly distinct intonations.
Alexey Alexandrovitch went into the bedroom, and went up to the
bed. She was lying turned with her face towards him. Her cheeks
were flushed crimson, her eyes glittered, her little white hands
thrust out from the sleeves of her dressing gown were playing
with the quilt, twisting it about. It seemed as though she were
not only well and blooming, but in the happiest frame of mind.
She was talking rapidly, musically, and with exceptionally
correct articulation and expressive intonation.

"For Alexey--I am speaking of Alexey Alexandrovitch (what a
strange and awful thing that both are Alexey, isn't it?)--Alexey
would not refuse me. I should forget, he would forgive.... But
why doesn't he come? He's so good he doesn't know himself how
good he is. Ah, my God, what agony! Give me some water, quick!
Oh, that will be bad for her, my little girl! Oh, very well
then, give her to a nurse. Yes, I agree, it's better in fact.
He'll be coming; it will hurt him to see her. Give her to the
nurse."

"Anna Arkadyevna, he has come. Here he is!" said the midwife,
trying to attract her attention to Alexey Alexandrovitch.

"Oh, what nonsense!" Anna went on, not seeing her husband. "No,
give her to me; give me my little one! He has not come yet. You
say he won't forgive me, because you don't know him. No one
knows him. I'm the only one, and it was hard for me even. His
eyes I ought to know--Seryozha has just the same eyes--and I
can't bear to see them because of it. Has Seryozha had his
dinner? I know everyone will forget him. He would not forget.
Seryozha must be moved into the corner room, and Mariette must be
asked to sleep with him."

All of a sudden she shrank back, was silent; and in terror, as
though expecting a blow, as though to defend herself,