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Vronsky could not understand how she, with her strong and

truthful nature, could endure this state of deceit, and not long

to get out of it. But he did not suspect that the chief cause of

it was the word-son, which she could not bring herself to

pronounce. When she thought of her son, and his future attitude

to his mother, who had abandoned his father, she felt such terror

at what she had done, that she could not face it; but, like a

woman, could only try to comfort herself with lying assurances

that everything would remain as it always had been, and that it

was possible to forget the fearful question of how it would be

with her son.

"I beg you, I entreat you," she said suddenly, taking his hand,

and speaking in quite a different tone, sincere and tender,

"never speak to me of that!"

"But, Anna...."