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- Лев Толстой
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- Анна Каренина
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- Стр. 429/828
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“
To
sleep
!
To
forget
!
”
he
repeated
to
himself
.
But
with
his
eyes
shut
he
saw
more
distinctly
than
ever
Anna
’
s
face
as
it
had
been
on
the
memorable
evening
before
the
races
.
“
That
is
not
and
will
not
be
,
and
she
wants
to
wipe
it
out
of
her
memory
.
But
I
cannot
live
without
it
.
How
can
we
be
reconciled
?
how
can
we
be
reconciled
?
”
he
said
aloud
,
and
unconsciously
began
to
repeat
these
words
.
This
repetition
checked
the
rising
up
of
fresh
images
and
memories
,
which
he
felt
were
thronging
in
his
brain
.
But
repeating
words
did
not
check
his
imagination
for
long
.
Again
in
extraordinarily
rapid
succession
his
best
moments
rose
before
his
mind
,
and
then
his
recent
humiliation
.
“
Take
away
his
hands
,
”
Anna
’
s
voice
says
.
He
takes
away
his
hands
and
feels
the
shamestruck
and
idiotic
expression
of
his
face
.
He
still
lay
down
,
trying
to
sleep
,
though
he
felt
there
was
not
the
smallest
hope
of
it
,
and
kept
repeating
stray
words
from
some
chain
of
thought
,
trying
by
this
to
check
the
rising
flood
of
fresh
images
.
He
listened
,
and
heard
in
a
strange
,
mad
whisper
words
repeated
:
“
I
did
not
appreciate
it
,
did
not
make
enough
of
it
.
I
did
not
appreciate
it
,
did
not
make
enough
of
it
.
”
“
What
’
s
this
?
Am
I
going
out
of
my
mind
?
”
he
said
to
himself
.
“
Perhaps
.
What
makes
men
go
out
of
their
minds
;
what
makes
men
shoot
themselves
?
”
he
answered
himself
,
and
opening
his
eyes
,
he
saw
with
wonder
an
embroidered
cushion
beside
him
,
worked
by
Varya
,
his
brother
’
s
wife
.
He
touched
the
tassel
of
the
cushion
,
and
tried
to
think
of
Varya
,
of
when
he
had
seen
her
last
.
But
to
think
of
anything
extraneous
was
an
agonizing
effort
.
“
No
,
I
must
sleep
!
”
He
moved
the
cushion
up
,
and
pressed
his
head
into
it
,
but
he
had
to
make
an
effort
to
keep
his
eyes
shut
.
He
jumped
up
and
sat
down
.
“
That
’
s
all
over
for
me
,
”
he
said
to
himself
.
“
I
must
think
what
to
do
.
What
is
left
?
”
His
mind
rapidly
ran
through
his
life
apart
from
his
love
of
Anna
.
“
Ambition
?
Serpuhovskoy
?
Society
?
The
court
?
”
He
could
not
come
to
a
pause
anywhere
.
All
of
it
had
had
meaning
before
,
but
now
there
was
no
reality
in
it
.
He
got
up
from
the
sofa
,
took
off
his
coat
,
undid
his
belt
,
and
uncovering
his
hairy
chest
to
breathe
more
freely
,
walked
up
and
down
the
room
.
“
This
is
how
people
go
mad
,
”
he
repeated
,
“
and
how
they
shoot
themselves
.
.
.
to
escape
humiliation
,
”
he
added
slowly
.
He
went
to
the
door
and
closed
it
,
then
with
fixed
eyes
and
clenched
teeth
he
went
up
to
the
table
,
took
a
revolver
,
looked
round
him
,
turned
it
to
a
loaded
barrel
,
and
sank
into
thought
.
For
two
minutes
,
his
head
bent
forward
with
an
expression
of
an
intense
effort
of
thought
,
he
stood
with
the
revolver
in
his
hand
,
motionless
,
thinking
.
“
Of
course
,
”
he
said
to
himself
,
as
though
a
logical
,
continuous
,
and
clear
chain
of
reasoning
had
brought
him
to
an
indubitable
conclusion
.
In
reality
this
“
of
course
,
”
that
seemed
convincing
to
him
,
was
simply
the
result
of
exactly
the
same
circle
of
memories
and
images
through
which
he
had
passed
ten
times
already
during
the
last
hour
—
memories
of
happiness
lost
forever
.
There
was
the
same
conception
of
the
senselessness
of
everything
to
come
in
life
,
the
same
consciousness
of
humiliation
.
Even
the
sequence
of
these
images
and
emotions
was
the
same
.
“
Of
course
,
”
he
repeated
,
when
for
the
third
time
his
thought
passed
again
round
the
same
spellbound
circle
of
memories
and
images
,
and
pulling
the
revolver
to
the
left
side
of
his
chest
,
and
clutching
it
vigorously
with
his
whole
hand
,
as
it
were
,
squeezing
it
in
his
fist
,
he
pulled
the
trigger
.
He
did
not
hear
the
sound
of
the
shot
,
but
a
violent
blow
on
his
chest
sent
him
reeling
.
He
tried
to
clutch
at
the
edge
of
the
table
,
dropped
the
revolver
,
staggered
,
and
sat
down
on
the
ground
,
looking
about
him
in
astonishment
.
He
did
not
recognize
his
room
,
looking
up
from
the
ground
,
at
the
bent
legs
of
the
table
,
at
the
wastepaper
basket
,
and
the
tiger
-
skin
rug
.
The
hurried
,
creaking
steps
of
his
servant
coming
through
the
drawing
-
room
brought
him
to
his
senses
.
He
made
an
effort
at
thought
,
and
was
aware
that
he
was
on
the
floor
;
and
seeing
blood
on
the
tiger
-
skin
rug
and
on
his
arm
,
he
knew
he
had
shot
himself
