He paused, evidently much moved.

“Yes, indeed, I see that.  But what can Anna do?” queried Darya Alexandrovna.

“Yes, that brings me to the object of my conversation,” he said, calming himself with an effort.  “Anna can, it depends on her....  Even to petition the Tsar for legitimization, a divorce is essential.  And that depends on Anna.  Her husband agreed to a divorce—­at that time your husband had arranged it completely.  And now, I know, he would not refuse it.  It is only a matter of writing to him.  He said plainly at that time that if she expressed the desire, he would not refuse.  Of course,” he said gloomily, “it is one of those Pharisaical cruelties of which only such heartless men are capable.  He knows what agony any recollection of him must give her, and knowing her, he must have a letter from her.  I can understand that it is agony to her.  But the matter is of such importance, that one must passer pardessus toutes ces finesses de sentiment.  Il y va du bonheur et de l’existence d’Anne et de ses enfants. I won’t speak of myself, though it’s hard for me, very hard,” he said, with an expression as though he were threatening someone for its being hard for him.  “And so it is, princess, that I am shamelessly clutching at you as an anchor of salvation.  Help me to persuade her to write to him and ask for a divorce.”

“Yes, of course,” Darya Alexandrovna said dreamily, as she vividly recalled her last interview with Alexey Alexandrovitch.  “Yes, of course,” she repeated with decision, thinking of Anna.

“Use your influence with her, make her write.  I don’t like—­I’m almost unable to speak about this to her.”

“Very well, I will talk to her.  But how is it she does not think of it herself?” said Darya Alexandrovna, and for some reason she suddenly at that point recalled Anna’s strange new habit of half-closing her eyes.  And she remembered that Anna drooped her eyelids just when the deeper questions of life were touched upon.  “Just as though she half-shut her eyes to her own life, so as not to see everything,” thought Dolly.  “Yes, indeed, for my own sake and for hers I will talk to her,” Dolly said in reply to his look of gratitude.

They got up and walked to the house.

Chapter 22

When Anna found Dolly at home before her, she looked intently in her eyes, as though questioning her about the talk she had had with Vronsky, but she made no inquiry in words.

“I believe it’s dinner time,” she said.  “We’ve not seen each other at all yet.  I am reckoning on the evening.  Now I want to go and dress.  I expect you do too; we all got splashed at the buildings.”

Dolly went to her room and she felt amused.  To change her dress was impossible, for she had already put on her best dress.  But in order to signify in some way her preparation for dinner, she asked the maid to brush her dress, changed her cuffs and tie, and put some lace on her head.