Chapter 43 — Anna Karenina

Anna returns with a hood in her hands and a glow on her face that looks less like brightness than fire in darkness. She marvels at how easily she lies, feels armored in falsehood, and treats Karenin's need to talk like a sleepy inconvenience. He warns her that animated conversation with Vronsky drew notice; she answers as if he complained about her mood, not her conduct, and watches his words fail against her bright impenetrable eyes.

When he invokes marriage, God, and love, she finds the word absurd from a man she thinks cannot love at all; he drifts from his script, loses the cold dignity he rehearsed, and she says it is time for bed before he can finish the speech he prepared on their son and her unhappiness. He sighs himself into the bedroom defeated, having spoken without reaching her.

He lies turned away, silent, then snores with tranquil rhythm while she whispers that it is late and stares open-eyed in the dark, thinking of Vronsky with guilty delight she cannot confess or share with anyone. The marriage room holds two people: one asleep in duty, one awake in trespass, and neither crosses to the other's side before dawn.