but suddenly a different kind of smile — the token of a gentle melancholy, of some feeling he could not comprehend — took its place.
"Soon, very soon. You said our position is painful, and that it must be changed. If you knew how hard it is for me, what I would give to be able to love you freely and openly! I should not torment myself and I should not torment you with my jealousy. .... And this will be soon, but not in the way we think."
And at the thought of how this would take place she felt such pity for herself that the tears filled her eyes and she could not go on. She put her white hand, with the rings sparkling in the lamplight, on Vronsky's arm.
"This will not be as we think. I did not intend to speak to you about this, but you compel me to. Soon, soon, every knot will be disentangled, and all of us, all, will be at peace, and we shall not be tormented any more."
"I don't know what you mean," he said; yet he understood her.
"You ask, 'When will it be?' Soon. And I shall not survive it. .... Don't interrupt me!"
And she went on speaking rapidly: —
"I know it, I am perfectly certain I am going to die; and I am glad to die, and to free myself and you."
Her tears continued to fall. Vronsky bent over her hand and began to kiss it, and tried to conceal his own emotion, which he knew he had no ground for feeling, but which he could not overcome.
"It is better that it should be so," she said, pressing his hand fervently. "It is the only thing, the only thing left for us."
"What a foolish idea!" said Vronsky, lifting up his head and regaining his self-possession. "What utter nonsense you are talking!"
"No; it is the truth."
"What do you mean by the truth?"
"That I am going to die. I have seen it in a dream."
"In a dream?" repeated Vronsky, involuntarily recalling the muzhik of his nightmare.
