Page 600 - ANNA KARENINA

Anna Karenina

old man. ‘Well, the hay! It’s as fragrant as tea!’ he
repeated, wishing to change the subject.
Levin looked more attentively at Ivan Parmenov and
his wife. They were loading a haycock onto the cart not

far from him. Ivan Parmenov was standing on the cart,
taking, laying in place, and stamping down the huge
bundles of hay, which his pretty young wife deftly handed
up to him, at first in armfuls, and then on the pitchfork.
The young wife worked easily, merrily, and dexterously.
The close-packed hay did not once break away off her
fork. First she gathered it together, stuck the fork into it,
then with a rapid, supple movement leaned the whole
weight of her body on it, and at once with a bend of her
back under the red belt she drew herself up, and arching
her full bosom under the white smock, with a smart turn
swung the fork in her arms, and flung the bundle of hay
high onto the cart. Ivan, obviously doing his best to save
her every minute of unnecessary labor, made haste,
opening his arms to clutch the bundle and lay it in the
cart. As she raked together what was left of the hay, the
young wife shook off the bits of hay that had fallen on her
neck, and straightening the red kerchief that had dropped
forward over her white brow, not browned like her face
by the sun, she crept under the cart to tie up the load.

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