Page 688 - ANNA KARENINA

Anna Karenina

the whip cracked, and the carriage rolled rapidly along the
smooth highroad.
‘I want nothing, nothing but this happiness,’ he
thought, staring at the bone button of the bell in the space

between the windows, and picturing to himself Anna just
as he had seen her last time. ‘And as I go on, I love her
more and more. Here’s the garden of the Vrede Villa.
Whereabouts will she be? Where? How? Why did she fix
on this place to meet me, and why does she write in
Betsy’s letter?’ he thought, wondering now for the first
time at it. But there was now no time for wonder. He
called to the driver to stop before reaching the avenue,
and opening the door, jumped out of the carriage as it was
moving, and went into the avenue that led up to the
house. There was no one in the avenue; but looking
round to the right he caught sight of her. Her face was
hidden by a veil, but he drank in with glad eyes the special
movement in walking, peculiar to her alone, the slope of
the shoulders, and the setting of the head, and at once a
sort of electric shock ran all over him. With fresh force, he
felt conscious of himself from the springy motions of his
legs to the movements of his lungs as he breathed, and
something set his lips twitching.
Joining him, she pressed his hand tightly.

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