CHAPTER XII
After having said good-by to her visitors, without sitting down Anna began to walk up and down the full length of her apartments.
Of late she had got into the habit of unconsciously doing all she could to attract young men to her; and so this whole evening she had striven to awaken a feeling of love in Levin. But though she knew that she had succeeded in doing this as far as it was possible with a chaste married man, and though he pleased her very much,—and in spite of the sharply defined dissimilarity between Vronsky and Levin, she as a woman was able to detect the subtile likeness between them which had caused Kitty to be in love with them both,—yet as soon as he had left the room she ceased to think about him.
One thought and one only in various guises followed her:—
"Why, since I have so evidently an attraction for others,—for this married man, who is in love with his wife,—why is he so cold to me? .... Yet not exactly cold; he loves me, I know; but lately something new has come between us. Why has he spent the whole evening away? He told Stiva that he could not leave Yashvin, but had to watch him while he played. Is Yashvin a baby? It must be true; he never tells lies. But there's something else back of it. He is glad of the chance to show me that he has other duties. I know this. I don't object to it, but what need has he to assert it so? He wants to show that his love for me must not interfere with his independence! But the proof is not necessary. I must have his love. He ought to understand the wretchedness of the life I lead here in Moscow. Why am I living? I am not living,—only dragging out life, in hope of a turn in affairs, which never, never comes. And Stiva says that he can't go to Alekseï Aleksandrovitch. And I can't write again. I cannot do anything, I can't begin anything,
