p to him with a letter on a tray.

"From Vozdvizhenskoe by special messenger," he said with a
significant expression.

"Astonishing! how like he is to the deputy prosecutor
Sventitsky," said one of the guests in French of the valet, while
Vronsky, frowning, read the letter.

The letter was from Anna. Before he read the letter, he knew its
contents. Expecting the elections to be over in five days, he
had promised to be back on Friday. Today was Saturday, and he
knew that the letter contained reproaches for not being back at
the time fixed. The letter he had sent the previous evening had
probably not reached her yet.

The letter was what he had expected, but the form of it was
unexpected, and particularly disagreeable to him. "Annie is very
ill, the doctor says it may be inflammation. I am losing my
head all alone. Princess Varvara is no help, but a hindrance. I
expected you the day before yesterday, and yesterday, and now I
am sending to find out where you are and what you are doing. I
wanted to come myself, but thought better of it, knowing you
would dislike it. Send some answer, that I may know what to
do."

The child ill, yet she had thought of coming herself. Their
daughter ill, and this hostile tone.

The innocent festivities over the election, and this gloomy,
burdensome love to which he had to return struck Vronsky by their
contrast. But he had to go, and by the first train that night he
set off home.

Chapter 32

Before Vronsky's departure for the elections, Anna had reflected
that the scenes constantly repeated between them each time he
left home, might only make him cold to her instead of attaching
him to her, and resolved to do all she could to control herself
so as to bear the parting with composure. But the cold, severe
glance with which he had looked at her when he came to tell her
he was going had wounded her, and before he had started her peace
of mind was destroyed.

In solitude afterwards, thinking over that glance which had
expressed his right to freedom, she came, as she always did, to
the same point--the sense of her own humiliation. "He has the
right to go away when and where he chooses. Not simply to go
away, but to leave me. He has every right, and I have none.
But knowing that, he ought not to do it. What has he done,
though?... He looked at me with a cold, severe expression. Of
course that is something indefinable, impalpable, but it has
never been so bef