Page 206 - ANNA KARENINA

Anna Karenina

convinced that if the buckwheat had been scorched, it was
only because the precautions had not been taken, for
which he had hundreds of times given orders. He was
annoyed, and reprimanded the bailiff. But there had been

an important and joyful event: Pava, his best cow, an
expensive beast, bought at a show, had calved.
‘Kouzma, give me my sheepskin. And you tell them to
take a lantern. I’ll come and look at her,’ he said to the
bailiff.
The cowhouse for the more valuable cows was just
behind the house. Walking across the yard, passing a
snowdrift by the lilac tree, he went into the cowhouse.
There was the warm, steamy smell of dung when the
frozen door was opened, and the cows, astonished at the
unfamiliar light of the lantern, stirred on the fresh straw.
He caught a glimpse of the broad, smooth, black and
piebald back of Hollandka. Berkoot, the bull, was lying
down with his ring in his lip, and seemed about to get up,
but thought better of it, and only gave two snorts as they
passed by him. Pava, a perfect beauty, huge as a
hippopotamus, with her back turned to them, prevented
their seeing the calf, as she sniffed her all over.
Levin went into the pen, looked Pava over, and lifted
the red and spotted calf onto her long, tottering legs. Pava,

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