“Then there is all the more reason for you to legalize your position, if possible,” said Dolly.
“Yes, if possible,” said Anna, speaking all at once in an utterly different tone, subdued and mournful.
“Surely you don’t mean a divorce is impossible? I was told your husband had consented to it.”
“Dolly, I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Oh, we won’t then,” Darya Alexandrovna hastened to say, noticing the expression of suffering on Anna’s face. “All I see is that you take too gloomy a view of things.”
“I? Not at all! I’m always bright and happy. You see, je fais des passions. Veslovsky. …”
“Yes, to tell the truth, I don’t like Veslovsky’s tone,” said Darya Alexandrovna, anxious to change the subject.
“Oh, that’s nonsense! It amuses Alexey, and that’s all; but he’s a boy, and quite under my control. You know, I turn him as I please. It’s just as it might be with your Grisha. … Dolly!”—she suddenly changed the subject—“you say I take too gloomy a view of things. You can’t understand. It’s too awful! I try not to take any view of it at all.”
“But I think you ought to. You ought to do all you can.”
“But what can I do? Nothing. You tell me to marry Alexey, and say I don’t think about it. I don’t think about it!” she repeated, and a flush rose into her face. She got up, straightening her chest, and sighed heavily.