Anna Karenina - Part 5

"Would you kindly wait?" said Kapitonitch, taking off her fur

cloak.

As he took off the cloak, Kapitonitch glanced at her face,

recognized her, and made her a low bow in silence.

"Please walk in, your excellency," he said to her.

She tried to say something, but her voice refused to utter any

sound; with a guilty and imploring glance at the old man she went

with light, swift steps up the stairs. Bent double, and his

galoshes catching in the steps, Kapitonitch ran after her, trying

to overtake her.

"The tutor's there; maybe he's not dressed. I'll let him know."

Anna still mounted the familiar staircase, not understanding what

the old man was saying.

"This way, to the left, if you please. Excuse its not being

tidy. His honor's in the old parlor now," the hall porter said,

panting. "Excuse me, wait a little, your excellency; I'll just

see," he said, and overtaking her, he opened the high door and

disappeared behind it. Anna stood still waiting. "He's only

just awake," said the hall porter, coming out. And at the very

instant the porter said this, Anna caught the sound of a childish

yawn. From the sound of this yawn alone she knew her son and

seemed to see him living before her eyes.

"Let me in; go away!" she said, and went in through the high

doorway. On the right of the door stood a bed, and sitting up in

the bed was the boy. His little body bent forward with his

nightshirt unbuttoned, he was stretching and still yawning. The

instant his lips came together they curved into a blissfully

sleepy smile, and with that smile he slowly and deliciously

rolled back again.

"Seryozha!" she whispered, going noiselessly up to him.

When she was parted from him, and all this latter time when she

had been feeling a fresh rush of love for him, she had pictured

him as he was at four years old, when she had loved him most of

all. Now he was not even the same as when she had left him; he

was still further from the four-year-old baby, more grown and

thinner. How thin his face was, how short his hair was! What

long hands! How he had changed since she left him! But it was

he with his head, his lips, his soft neck and broad little

shoulders.

"Seryozha!" she repeated just in the child's ear.

He raised himself again on his elbow, turned his tangled head

from side to side as though looking for something, and opened his

eyes. Slowly and inquiringly he looked for several seconds at

his mother standing motionless before him, then all at once he

smiled a blissful smile, and shutting his eyes, rolled not

backwards but towards her into her arms.