Page 687 - ANNA KARENINA

Anna Karenina

body, as at that moment. He enjoyed the slight ache in his
strong leg, he enjoyed the muscular sensation of
movement in his chest as he breathed. The bright, cold
August day, which had made Anna feel so hopeless,

seemed to him keenly stimulating, and refreshed his face
and neck that still tingled from the cold water. The scent
of brilliantine on his whiskers struck him as particularly
pleasant in the fresh air. Everything he saw from the
carriage window, everything in that cold pure air, in the
pale light of the sunset, was as fresh, and gay, and strong as
he was himself: the roofs of the houses shining in the rays
of the setting sun, the sharp outlines of fences and angles
of buildings, the figures of passers-by, the carriages that
met him now and then, the motionless green of the trees
and grass, the fields with evenly drawn furrows of
potatoes, and the slanting shadows that fell from the
houses, and trees, and bushes, and even from the rows of
potatoes—everything was bright like a pretty landscape
just finished and freshly varnished.
‘Get on, get on!’ he said to the driver, putting his head
out of the window, and pulling a three-rouble note out of
his pocket he handed it to the man as he looked round.
The driver’s hand fumbled with something at the lamp,

686 of 1759