Page 599 - ANNA KARENINA

Anna Karenina

vanished, flung up in huge forkfuls, and in their place
there were rising heavy cartloads of fragrant hay hanging
over the horses’ hind-quarters.
‘What weather for haying! What hay it’ll be!’ said an

old man, squatting down beside Levin. ‘It’s tea, not hay!
It’s like scattering grain to the ducks, the way they pick it
up!’ he added, pointing to the growing haycocks. ‘Since
dinnertime they’ve carried a good half of it.’
‘The last load, eh?’ he shouted to a young peasant, who
drove by, standing in the front of an empty cart, shaking
the cord reins.
‘The last, dad!’ the lad shouted back, pulling in the
horse, and, smiling, he looked round at a bright, rosy-
checked peasant girl who sat in the cart smiling too, and
drove on.
‘Who’s that? Your son?’ asked Levin.
‘My baby,’ said the old man with a tender smile.
‘What a fine fellow!’
‘The lad’s all right.’
‘Married already?’
‘Yes, it’s two years last St. Philip’s day.’
‘Any children?’
‘Children indeed! Why, for over a year he was
innocent as a babe himself, and bashful too,’ answered the

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