ever heard. This cry was so terrible that Levin did not even stir, but, holding his breath, he looked at the doctor with eyes full of questioning terror.
The doctor bent his head, as if to hear better, and smiled with an air of approbation. Levin had reached the point where nothing could surprise him; and he said inwardly, "Evidently that must be so; but why that cry?" He went back to the sick-room on tiptoe, passed round by Lizavyeta Petrovna and the princess, and stood in his place by the bedside. The cry had ceased, but evidently there was some change. What, he did not know, and did not care to know. But he saw it by the grave expression of Lizavyeta Petrovna's pale face. Her face was stern and pale, and just as resolute as ever, although her lower jaw trembled a little. Her eyes were kept steadily fixed on Kitty. Her flushed, tortured face, with the little tufts of hair clinging to it, was turned toward him, and her eyes sought his. She raised her hand and tried to take his. When once she had got hold of it, she tried with her moist hand to press it to her forehead.
"Don't go, don't go! I am not afraid," said she, quickly. "Mamma, take away my ear-rings; they annoy me. .... You are n't afraid? .... Lizavyeta Petrovna, quick, quick!"—She spoke rapidly, and tried to smile; but suddenly her face grew convulsed, and she pushed him away. "This is terrible! I shall die, I shall die! go! go!" Then came the same unearthly cry.
Levin seized his head in his hands, and rushed from the room.
"That is nothing; all is going well," said Dolly, following after him.
But, whatever they might say, he knew that now all was lost! Leaning his head against the lintel, he stood in the adjoining room and listened to screams and moaning—such sounds as he had never heard before, and he knew that what was making such animal-like noise was she who had once been Kitty. He had long ceased to care about the child. He now hated that child. He even went so far as not to wish for Kitty
