in the morning. He saw that something unusual was the matter: in her shining eyes, as they flashed their lightning on him, there was evidence of mental strain; and in her speech and movements there was that nervous alertness and grace which in the first epoch of their relationship had so captivated him, but now they troubled and alarmed him.
The table was laid for four, and, just as they were going to sit down in the little dining-room, Tuskievitch came from the Princess Betsy with a message for Anna.
The Princess Betsy sent her excuses for not coming in person to say good-by to her. She was not well, and asked Anna to come to see her between half-past seven and nine o'clock.
Vronsky looked at Anna as if he would draw her attention to the fact that in naming a time she had taken precautions against her meeting any one; but Anna did not seem to pay any attention to it.
"I am very sorry, but just between half-past seven and nine I shall not be at liberty," she said, with a slight smile.
"The princess will be very much disappointed."
"So shall I."
"I suppose you are going to hear Patti," said Tushkievitch.
"Patti? You give me an idea. I would go certainly, if I could get a loge."
"I can get you one," suggested Tushkievitch.
"I should be very much obliged to you," said Anna; "but won't you dine with us?"
Vronsky shrugged his shoulders slightly; he did not know what to make of Anna. Why had she brought home the old princess, why was she keeping Tushkievitch to dinner, and, above all, why did she let him get her a box? Was it to be thought of for a moment that she, in her position, could go to the opera on a Patti subscription night, when she would meet all her acquaintances there? He looked at her seriously, but she responded with a half-despairing, half-mocking look, the meaning of which he could not understand.
