"You don't love your mother. Those are simple words, words, words!" she said, looking at him with eyes full of hatred.
"If that is the case, it is necessary ...."
"It is necessary to decide; and I have decided," said she, and was preparing to leave the room, when the door opened, and Yashvin entered.
She stopped immediately, and bade him good-morning.
Why, when her soul was full of bitterness; when she felt that she was at the turning-point of her life, which might take a terrible direction,—why, at this moment, she had to dissimulate before a stranger, who sooner or later would know all, she could not tell; but, calming the inner tumult of her feelings, she sat down again, and began to talk with the guest,
"Well, how are your affairs? Have they paid you your debt?" she asked.
"No; not yet. Probably I shall not get it all. And I've got to leave Wednesday," said Yashvin, awkwardly, glancing at Vronsky, and evidently suspecting that a quarrel was in progress. "When do you leave?"
"Day after to-morrow, I think," said Vronsky.
"You have taken long to make up your minds."
"But now it is all decided," said Anna, looking straight into Vronsky's eyes with a look that told him how impossible it was to think of reconcihation.
"Did n't you feel sorry for that unlucky Pyebtsof?" asked Anna, addressing Yashvin.
"I have never asked myself whether I pitied a man or not, Anna Arkadyevna. My whole fortune is here," said he, pointing to his pocket. "Now I am a rich man, but I may come out of the club this evening a beggar. Whoever plays with me would gladly leave me without a shirt, and I him. Well! We engage in war, and that makes the fun."
"Well, but if you were married, how would it be for your wife?"
Yashvin laughed.
"But I am not married, and I don't expect to marry."
"But how about Helsingfors?" suggested Vronsky,
