of short clustering
black curls on her round head, was sitting on a settee. The
eagerness died out of her face, as it always did, at the sight of
her husband; she dropped her head and looked round uneasily at
Betsy. Betsy, dressed in the height of the latest fashion, in a
hat that towered somewhere over her head like a shade on a lamp,
in a blue dress with violet crossway stripes slanting one way on
the bodice and the other way on the skirt, was sitting beside
Anna, her tall flat figure held erect. Bowing her head, she
greeted Alexey Alexandrovitch with an ironical smile.

"Ah!" she said, as though surprised. "I'm very glad you're at
home. You never put in an appearance anywhere, and I haven't
seen you ever since Anna has been ill. I have heard all about
it--your anxiety. Yes, you're a wonderful husband!" she said,
with a meaning and affable air, as though she were bestowing an
order of magnanimity on him for his conduct to his wife.

Alexey Alexandrovitch bowed frigidly, and kissing his wife's
hand, asked how she was.

"Better, I think," she said, avoiding his eyes.

"But you've rather a feverish-looking color," he said, laying
stress on the word "feverish."

"We've been talking too much," said Betsy. "I feel it's
selfishness on my part, and I am going away."

She got up, but Anna, suddenly flushing, quickly caught at her
hand.

"No, wait a minute, please. I must tell you...no, you." she
turned to Alexey Alexandrovitch, and her neck and brow were
suffused with crimson. "I won't and can't keep anything secret
from you," she said.

Alexey Alexandrovitch cracked his fingers and bowed his head.

"Betsy's been telling me that Count Vronsky wants to come here to
say good-bye before his departure for Tashkend." She did not
look at her husband, and was evidently in haste to have
everything out, however hard it might be for her. "I told her I
could not receive him."

"You said, my dear, that it would depend on Alexey
Alexandrovitch," Betsy corrected her.

"Oh, no, I can't receive him; and what object would there...."
She stopped suddenly, and glanced inquiringly at her husband (he
did not look at her). "In short, I don't wish it...."

Alexey Alexandrovitch advanced and would have taken her hand.

Her first impulse was to jerk back her hand from the damp hand
with big swollen veins that sought hers, but with an obvious
effort to control herself she pressed his hand.

"I am very grateful to you f