Page 409 - ANNA KARENINA

Anna Karenina

called up both in Vronsky and in Anna a feeling akin to
the feeling of a sailor who sees by the compass that the
direction in which he is swiftly moving is far from the
right one, but that to arrest his motion is not in his power,

that every instant is carrying him further and further away,
and that to admit to himself his deviation from the right
direction is the same as admitting his certain ruin.
This child, with his innocent outlook upon life, was
the compass that showed them the point to which they
had departed from what they knew, but did not want to
know.
This time Seryozha was not at home, and she was
completely alone. She was sitting on the terrace waiting
for the return of her son, who had gone out for his walk
and been caught in the rain. She had sent a manservant
and a maid out to look for him. Dressed in a white gown,
deeply embroidered, she was sitting in a corner of the
terrace behind some flowers, and did not hear him.
Bending her curly black head, she pressed her forehead
against a cool watering pot that stood on the parapet, and
both her lovely hands, with the rings he knew so well,
clasped the pot. The beauty of her whole figure, her head,
her neck, her hands, struck Vronsky every time as
something new and unexpected. He stood still, gazing at

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