A general-adjutant, well known for his wit and culture, and highly esteemed by Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, was standing below near the pavilion. Alekseï Aleksandrovitch joined him, and engaged in conversation. It was the interval between two of the races; the general-adjutant condemned racing. Alekseï Aleksandrovitch replied and defended them.
Anna heard his shrill, monotonous voice, and lost not a single word; and every word that he spoke seemed to her hypocritical and rangunpleasantly in her ear.
When the four-verst handicap-race began, she leaned forward, not letting Vronsky out of her sight for an instant. She saw him approach his horse, then mount it; and at the same time she heard her husband's odious, incessant voice. She was tormented with fear for Vronsky; but she was tormented still more by the sound of her husband's sharp voice, every intonation of which she knew; it seemed to her that he would never cease speaking,
"I am a wicked woman, a lost woman," she thought; "but I hate falsehood, I cannot endure lies; but to him"—meaning her husband—"lies are his daily food! He knows all, he sees everything; how much feeling has he, if he can go on speaking with such calmness? I should have some respect for him if he killed me, if he killed Vronsky. But no! what he prefers above everything is falsehood and conventionality," said Anna to herself, not exactly knowing what she wanted of her husband, whatever she might want him to see. She did not understand that the very volubility of Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, which irritated her so, was only the expression of his interior agitation and anxiety.
As a child, hurt when jumping, puts its muscles into motion to assuage the pain, so Alekseï Aleksandrovitch absolutely required some intellectual movement, so as to become oblivious to the thoughts about his wife that arose in his mind at the sight of Anna and at the sight of Vronsky, whose name he heard on all sides. And as it is natural for a child to jump, so for him was it natural to talk tersely and well.
