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- Лев Толстой
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- Анна Каренина
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- Стр. 307/828
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In
the
morning
she
had
regretted
that
she
had
spoken
to
her
husband
,
and
wished
for
nothing
so
much
as
that
those
words
could
be
unspoken
.
And
here
this
letter
regarded
them
as
unspoken
,
and
gave
her
what
she
had
wanted
.
But
now
this
letter
seemed
to
her
more
awful
than
anything
she
had
been
able
to
conceive
.
“
He
’
s
right
!
”
she
said
;
“
of
course
,
he
’
s
always
right
;
he
’
s
a
Christian
,
he
’
s
generous
!
Yes
,
vile
,
base
creature
!
And
no
one
understands
it
except
me
,
and
no
one
ever
will
;
and
I
can
’
t
explain
it
.
They
say
he
’
s
so
religious
,
so
high
-
principled
,
so
upright
,
so
clever
;
but
they
don
’
t
see
what
I
’
ve
seen
.
They
don
’
t
know
how
he
has
crushed
my
life
for
eight
years
,
crushed
everything
that
was
living
in
me
—
he
has
not
once
even
thought
that
I
’
m
a
live
woman
who
must
have
love
.
They
don
’
t
know
how
at
every
step
he
’
s
humiliated
me
,
and
been
just
as
pleased
with
himself
.
Haven
’
t
I
striven
,
striven
with
all
my
strength
,
to
find
something
to
give
meaning
to
my
life
?
Haven
’
t
I
struggled
to
love
him
,
to
love
my
son
when
I
could
not
love
my
husband
?
But
the
time
came
when
I
knew
that
I
couldn
’
t
cheat
myself
any
longer
,
that
I
was
alive
,
that
I
was
not
to
blame
,
that
God
has
made
me
so
that
I
must
love
and
live
.
And
now
what
does
he
do
?
If
he
’
d
killed
me
,
if
he
’
d
killed
him
,
I
could
have
borne
anything
,
I
could
have
forgiven
anything
;
but
,
no
,
he
.
.
.
.
How
was
it
I
didn
’
t
guess
what
he
would
do
?
He
’
s
doing
just
what
’
s
characteristic
of
his
mean
character
.
He
’
ll
keep
himself
in
the
right
,
while
me
,
in
my
ruin
,
he
’
ll
drive
still
lower
to
worse
ruin
yet
.
.
.
.
”
She
recalled
the
words
from
the
letter
.
“
You
can
conjecture
what
awaits
you
and
your
son
.
.
.
.
”
“
That
’
s
a
threat
to
take
away
my
child
,
and
most
likely
by
their
stupid
law
he
can
.
But
I
know
very
well
why
he
says
it
.
He
doesn
’
t
believe
even
in
my
love
for
my
child
,
or
he
despises
it
(
just
as
he
always
used
to
ridicule
it
)
.
He
despises
that
feeling
in
me
,
but
he
knows
that
I
won
’
t
abandon
my
child
,
that
I
can
’
t
abandon
my
child
,
that
there
could
be
no
life
for
me
without
my
child
,
even
with
him
whom
I
love
;
but
that
if
I
abandoned
my
child
and
ran
away
from
him
,
I
should
be
acting
like
the
most
infamous
,
basest
of
women
.
He
knows
that
,
and
knows
that
I
am
incapable
of
doing
that
.
”
She
recalled
another
sentence
in
the
letter
.
“
Our
life
must
go
on
as
it
has
done
in
the
past
.
.
.
.
”
“
That
life
was
miserable
enough
in
the
old
days
;
it
has
been
awful
of
late
.
What
will
it
be
now
?
And
he
knows
all
that
;
he
knows
that
I
can
’
t
repent
that
I
breathe
,
that
I
love
;
he
knows
that
it
can
lead
to
nothing
but
lying
and
deceit
;
but
he
wants
to
go
on
torturing
me
.
I
know
him
;
I
know
that
he
’
s
at
home
and
is
happy
in
deceit
,
like
a
fish
swimming
in
the
water
.
No
,
I
won
’
t
give
him
that
happiness
.
I
’
ll
break
through
the
spiderweb
of
lies
in
which
he
wants
to
catch
me
,
come
what
may
.
Anything
’
s
better
than
lying
and
deceit
.
“
But
how
?
My
God
!
my
God
!
Was
ever
a
woman
so
miserable
as
I
am
?
.
.
.
”
“
No
;
I
will
break
through
it
,
I
will
break
through
it
!
”
she
cried
,
jumping
up
and
keeping
back
her
tears
.
And
she
went
to
the
writing
-
table
to
write
him
another
letter
.
But
at
the
bottom
of
her
heart
she
felt
that
she
was
not
strong
enough
to
break
through
anything
,
that
she
was
not
strong
enough
to
get
out
of
her
old
position
,
however
false
and
dishonorable
it
might
be
.
She
sat
down
at
the
writing
-
table
,
but
instead
of
writing
she
clasped
her
hands
on
the
table
,
and
,
laying
her
head
on
them
,
burst
into
tears
,
with
sobs
and
heaving
breast
like
a
child
crying
.
She
was
weeping
that
her
dream
of
her
position
being
made
clear
and
definite
had
been
annihilated
forever
.
She
knew
beforehand
that
everything
would
go
on
in
the
old
way
,
and
far
worse
,
indeed
,
than
in
the
old
way
.
She
felt
that
the
position
in
the
world
that
she
enjoyed
,
and
that
had
seemed
to
her
of
so
little
consequence
in
the
morning
,
that
this
position
was
precious
to
her
,
that
she
would
not
have
the
strength
to
exchange
it
for
the
shameful
position
of
a
woman
who
has
abandoned
husband
and
child
to
join
her
lover
;
that
however
much
she
might
struggle
,
she
could
not
be
stronger
than
herself
.
She
would
never
know
freedom
in
love
,
but
would
remain
forever
a
guilty
wife
,
with
the
menace
of
detection
hanging
over
her
at
every
instant
;
deceiving
her
husband
for
the
sake
of
a
shameful
connection
with
a
man
living
apart
and
away
from
her
,
whose
life
she
could
never
share
.
She
knew
that
this
was
how
it
would
be
,
and
at
the
same
time
it
was
so
awful
that
she
could
not
even
conceive
what
it
would
end
in
.
And
she
cried
without
restraint
,
as
children
cry
when
they
are
punished
.
The
sound
of
the
footman
’
s
steps
forced
her
to
rouse
herself
,
and
,
hiding
her
face
from
him
,
she
pretended
to
be
writing
