Anna Karenina - Part 7

The boy, blushing and making no answer, cautiously drew his hand

away. As soon as Stepan Arkadyevitch let go his hand, he glanced

doubtfully at his father, and like a bird set free, he darted out

of the room.

A year had passed since the last time Seryozha had seen his

mother. Since then he had heard nothing more of her. And in the

course of that year he had gone to school, and made friends among

his schoolfellows. The dreams and memories of his mother, which

had made him ill after seeing her, did not occupy his thoughts

now. When they came back to him, he studiously drove them away,

regarding them as shameful and girlish, below the dignity of a

boy and a schoolboy. He knew that his father and mother were

separated by some quarrel, he knew that he had to remain with his

father, and he tried to get used to that idea.

He disliked seeing his uncle, so like his mother, for it called

up those memories of which he was ashamed. He disliked it all

the more as from some words he had caught as he waited at the

study door, and still more from the faces of his father and

uncle, he guessed that they must have been talking of his mother.

And to avoid condemning the father with whom he lived and on whom

he was dependent, and, above all, to avoid giving way to

sentimentality, which he considered so degrading, Seryozha tried

not to look at his uncle who had come to disturb his peace of

mind, and not to think of what he recalled to him.

But when Stepan Arkadyevitch, going out after him, saw him on the

stairs, and calling to him, asked him how he spent his playtime

at school, Seryozha talked more freely to him away from his

father's presence.

"We have a railway now," he said in answer to his uncle's

question. "It's like this, do you see: two sit on a bench--

they're the passengers; and one stands up straight on the bench.

And all are harnessed to it by their arms or by their belts, and

they run through all the rooms--the doors are left open

beforehand. Well, and it's pretty hard work being the

conductor!"

"That's the one that stands?" Stepan Arkadyevitch inquired,

smiling.

"Yes, you want pluck for it, and cleverness too, especially when

they stop all of a sudden, or someone falls down."

"Yes, that must be a serious matter," said Stepan Arkadyevitch,

watching with mournful interest the eager eyes, like his

mother's; not childish now--no longer fully innocent. And though

he had promised Alexey Alexandrovitch not to speak of Anna, he

could not restrain himself.