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He's not a man, but a machine, and a spiteful machine when he's

angry," she added, recalling Alexey Alexandrovitch as she spoke,

with all the peculiarities of his figure and manner of speaking,

and reckoning against him every defect she could find in him,

softening nothing for the great wrong she herself was doing him.

"But, Anna," said Vronsky, in a soft and persuasive voice, trying

to soothe her, "we absolutely must, anyway, tell him, and then be

guided by the line he takes."

"What, run away?"

"And why not run away? I don't see how we can keep on like this.

And not for my sake-I see that you suffer."

"Yes, run away, and become your mistress," she said angrily.

"Anna," he said, with reproachful tenderness.

"Yes," she went on, "become your mistress, and complete the ruin

of...."

Again she would have said "my son," but she could not utter that

word.