perceive that his code did not fully determine all conditions, and the future promised to present difficulties and doubts through the labyrinth of which he could not find the guiding thread.
Hitherto his relations with Anna and her husband had been, on his part, simple and clear; they were in harmony with the code that guided him.
She was a perfect lady, and she had given him her love; he loved her, and therefore she had a right to his respect, even more than if she had been his legal wife. He would have cut off his hand sooner than permit himself a word or an allusion that might wound her, or that would seem to fail in that respect on which, as a woman, she ought to count.
His relations with society were also clear. All might know or suspect his relations with her, but no one should dare to speak of it. At the first hint, he was prepared to cause the speaker to hold his peace, and to respect the non-existent honor of the woman whom he loved.
Still more clear were his relations to the husband: from the first moment when Anna gave him her love he considered his right and his only imprescriptible. The husband was merely a superfluous and meddlesome person. Without doubt, he was in a pitiable position; but what could be done about it? The only right that was left him was to demand satisfaction with arms in their hands, and for this Vronsky was wholly willing.
In the last few days, however, new complications had arisen in their relationship, and Vronsky was alarmed at his uncertainty. Only the evening before, Anna had confessed that she was pregnant; and he felt that this news and what she expected from him demanded something that was not defined by the code of rules by which he ruled his life. Indeed, he was taken unawares, and at the first moment, when she told him her situation, his heart bade him take her from her husband. He said this, but now on reflection he saw clearly that it would be better not to do so; but at the same time he was alarmed and perplexed.
