CHAPTER XIII
No one except Alekseï Aleksandrovitch's most intimate friends suspected that this apparently cold and sober-minded man had one weakness absolutely contradictory to the general consistency of his character. He could not look with indifference at a child or a woman who was weeping. The sight of tears caused him to lose his self-control, and destroyed for him his reasoning faculties. The manager of his chancelry and his secretary understood this, and warned women who came to present petitions not to allow their feelings to overcome them unless they wanted to injure their prospects.
"He will fly into a passion, and will not listen to you," they said. And it was a fact that the trouble which the sight of weeping caused Alekseï Aleksandrovitch was expressed by hasty irritation. "I cannot, I cannot do anything for you. Please leave me," he would exclaim, as a general thing, in such cases.
When, on their way back from the races, Anna confessed her relations with Vronsky, and, immediately afterwards covering her face with her hands, burst into tears, Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, in spite of his anger against his wife, was conscious at the same time of that deep, soul-felt emotion welling up which the sight of tears always caused him. Knowing this, and knowing that any expression of it would be incompatible with the situation, he endeavored to restrain any sign of agitation, and therefore he neither moved nor looked at her; hence arose that strange appearance of death-like rigidity in his face which so impressed Anna.
When they reached home, he helped her from the carriage; and, having made a great effort, he left her with ordinary politeness, saying only those words which would not oblige him to follow any course. He simply said that on the morrow he would let her know his decision.
His wife's words, confirming his worst suspicions, caused a keen pain in his heart; and this pain was
