KARÉNIN [reads] "... must destroy myself. And I will do it. When you get this letter, I shall be no more.
"_P.S._ What a pity you sent me money to pay for the divorce proceedings! It is unpleasant, and unlike you! But it can't be helped. I have so often made mistakes, why shouldn't you make one? I return the money. My way of escape is shorter, cheaper, and surer. All I ask is, don't be angry with me, and think kindly of me. And, one thing more--there is a clockmaker, Evgényev, here. Can't you help him, and set him on his feet? He's a good man, though weak.--Good-bye,
KARÉNIN [rings, and runs out to the hall] Call Mr. Voznesénsky back!
LISA. I knew it! I knew it! Fédya, dear Fédya!
LISA. It's not true, not true that I didn't love him and don't love him! I love only him! I love him! And I've killed him. Leave me!
KARÉNIN. Where is Mr. Protásov? What did they tell you?
VOZNESÉNSKY. They told me he went out this morning, left this letter, and had not returned.
KARÉNIN. We shall have to find out about it, Lisa. I must leave you.
LISA. Forgive me, but I too can't lie! Go now--go, and find out ...
A dirty room in a low-class restaurant. A table, at which people sit drinking tea and vódka. In the foreground a small table, at which sits Fédya, tattered, and much come down in the world. With him is Petushkóv, a gentle, mild man with long hair, of clerical appearance. Both are slightly drunk.
PETUSHKÓV. I understand, I understand. That is true love! Yes? Go on.
FÉDYA. Well, you know, if a woman of our class showed such feeling and sacrificed everything for the man she loved.... But she was a gipsy, brought up to money-hunting, and yet she had this self-sacrificing love! Gave everything, and wanted nothing herself! The contrast was so wonderful!
PETUSHKÓV. Yes, in art we call it "value." You can only get quite bright red by putting green round it. But that's not to the point. I understand, quite understand.
FÉDYA. Yes, and I believe the one good action of my life is that I never took advantage of her love. And do you know why?
FÉDYA. Oh no! I never felt pity for her. What I felt for her was always rapturous admiration--and when she sang! Ah, how she sang--and perhaps still sings! I always regarded her as far above me. I did not ruin her, simply because I loved her; loved her truly. And now she's a good, happy memory! [Drinks].