Part Five: Chapter 29

by Leo Tolstoy

　　One of Anna's objects in coming back to Russia had been to seeher son. From the day she left Italy the thought of it had neverceased to agitate her. And as she got nearer to Petersburg, thedelight and importance of this meeting grew ever greater in herimagination. She did not even put to herself the question how toarrange it. It seemed to her natural and simple to see her sonwhen she should be in the same town with him. But on her arrivalin Petersburg she was suddenly made distinctly aware of herpresent position in society, and she grasped the fact that toarrange this meeting was no easy matter.

　　She had now been two days in Petersburg. The thought of her sonnever left her for a single instant, but she had not yet seenhim. To go straight to the house, where she might meet AlexeyAlexandrovitch, that she felt she had no right to do. She mightbe refused admittance and insulted. To write and so enter intorelations with her husband--that it made her miserable to thinkof doing; she could only be at peace when she did not think ofher husband. To get a glimpse of her son out walking, findingout where and when he went out, was not enough for her; she hadso looked forward to this meeting, she had so much she must sayto him, she so longed to embrace him, to kiss him. Seryozha'sold nurse might be a help to her and show her what to do. Butthe nurse was not now living in Alexey Alexandrovitch's house.In this uncertainty, and in efforts to find the nurse, two dayshad slipped by.

　　Hearing of the close intimacy between Alexey Alexandrovitch andCountess Lidia Ivanovna, Anna decided on the third day to writeto her a letter, which cost her great pains, and in which sheintentionally said that permission to see her son must depend onher husband's generosity. She knew that if the letter were shownto her husband, he would keep up his character of magnanimity,and would not refuse her request.

　　The commissionaire who took the letter had brought her back themost cruel and unexpected answer, that there was no answer. Shehad never felt so humiliated as at the moment when, sending forthe commissionaire, she heard from him the exact account of howhe had waited, and how afterwards he had been told there was noanswer. Anna felt humiliated, insulted, but she saw that fromher point of view Countess Lidia Ivanovna was right. Hersuffering was the more poignant that she had to bear it insolitude. She could not and would not share it with Vronsky.She knew that to him, although he was the primary cause of herdistress, the question of her seeing her son would seem a matterof very little consequence. She knew that he would never becapable of understanding all the depth of her suffering, that forhis cool tone at any allusion to it she would begin to hate him.And she dreaded that more than anything in the world, and so shehid from him everything that related to her son. Spending thewhole day at home she considered ways of seeing her son, and hadreached a decision to write to her husband. She was justcomposing this letter when she was handed the letter from LidiaIvanovna. The countess's silence had subdued and depressed her,but the letter, all that she read between the lines in it, soexasperated her, this malice was so revolting beside herpassionate, legitimate tenderness for her son, that she turnedagainst other people and left off blaming herself.

　　"This coldness--this pretense of feeling!" she said to herself."They must needs insult me and torture the child, and I am tosubmit to it! Not on any consideration! She is worse than I am.I don't lie, anyway." And she decided on the spot that next day,Seryozha's birthday, she would go straight to her husband'shouse, bribe or deceive the servants, but at any cost see her sonand overturn the hideous deception with which they wereencompassing the unhappy child.

　　She went to a toy shop, bought toys and thought over a plan ofaction. She would go early in the morning at eight o'clock, whenAlexey Alexandrovitch would be certain not to be up. She wouldhave money in her hand to give the hall porter and the footman,so that they should let her in, and not raising her veil, shewould say that she had come from Seryozha's godfather tocongratulate him, and that she had been charged to leave the toysat his bedside. She had prepared everything but the words sheshould say to her son. Often as she had dreamed of it, she couldnever think of anything.

　　The next day, at eight o'clock in the morning, Anna got out of ahired sledge and rang at the front entrance of her former home.

　　"Run and see what's wanted. Some lady," said Kapitonitch, who,not yet dressed, in his overcoat and galoshes, had peeped out ofthe window and seen a lady in a veil standing close up to thedoor. His assistant, a lad Anna did not know, had no sooneropened the door to her than she came in, and pulling athree-rouble note out of her muff put it hurriedly into his hand.

　　"Seryozha--Sergey Alexeitch," she said, and was going on.Scrutinizing the note, the porter's assistant stopped her at thesecond glass door.

　　"Whom do you want?" he asked.

　　She did not hear his words and made no answer.

　　Noticing the embarrassment of the unknown lady, Kapitonitch wentout to her, opened the second door for her, and asked her whatshe was pleased to want.

　　"From Prince Skorodumov for Sergey Alexeitch," she said.

　　"His honor's not up yet," said the porter, looking at herattentively.

　　Anna had not anticipated that the absolutely unchanged hall ofthe house where she had lived for nine years would so greatlyaffect her. Memories sweet and painful rose one after another inher heart, and for a moment she forgot what she was here for.

　　"Would you kindly wait?" said Kapitonitch, taking off her furcloak.

　　As he took off the cloak, Kapitonitch glanced at her face,recognized her, and made her a low bow in silence.

　　"Please walk in, your excellency," he said to her.

　　She tried to say something, but her voice refused to utter anysound; with a guilty and imploring glance at the old man she wentwith light, swift steps up the stairs. Bent double, and hisgaloshes catching in the steps, Kapitonitch ran after her, tryingto overtake her.

　　"The tutor's there; maybe he's not dressed. I'll let him know."

　　Anna still mounted the familiar staircase, not understanding whatthe old man was saying.

　　"This way, to the left, if you please. Excuse its not beingtidy. His honor's in the old parlor now," the hall porter said,panting. "Excuse me, wait a little, your excellency; I'll justsee," he said, and overtaking her, he opened the high door anddisappeared behind it. Anna stood still waiting. "He's onlyjust awake," said the hall porter, coming out. And at the veryinstant the porter said this, Anna caught the sound of a childishyawn. From the sound of this yawn alone she knew her son andseemed to see him living before her eyes.

　　"Let me in; go away!" she said, and went in through the highdoorway. On the right of the door stood a bed, and sitting up inthe bed was the boy. His little body bent forward with hisnightshirt unbuttoned, he was stretching and still yawning. Theinstant his lips came together they curved into a blissfullysleepy smile, and with that smile he slowly and deliciouslyrolled back again.

　　"Seryozha!" she whispered, going noiselessly up to him.

　　When she was parted from him, and all this latter time when shehad been feeling a fresh rush of love for him, she had picturedhim as he was at four years old, when she had loved him most ofall. Now he was not even the same as when she had left him; hewas still further from the four-year-old baby, more grown andthinner. How thin his face was, how short his hair was! Whatlong hands! How he had changed since she left him! But it washe with his head, his lips, his soft neck and broad littleshoulders.

　　"Seryozha!" she repeated just in the child's ear.

　　He raised himself again on his elbow, turned his tangled headfrom side to side as though looking for something, and opened hiseyes. Slowly and inquiringly he looked for several seconds athis mother standing motionless before him, then all at once hesmiled a blissful smile, and shutting his eyes, rolled notbackwards but towards her into her arms.

　　"Seryozha! my darling boy!" she said, breathing hard and puttingher arms round his plump little body. "Mother!" he said,wriggling about in her arms so as to touch her hands withdifferent parts of him.

　　Smiling sleepily still with closed eyes, he flung fat little armsround her shoulders, rolled towards her, with the delicioussleepy warmth and fragrance that is only found in children, andbegan rubbing his face against her neck and shoulders.

　　"I know," he said, opening his eyes; "it's my birthday today. Iknew you'd come. I'll get up directly."

　　And saying that he dropped asleep.

　　Anna looked at him hungrily; she saw how he had grown and changedin her absence. She knew, and did not know, the bare legs solong now, that were thrust out below the quilt, thoseshort-cropped curls on his neck in which she had so often kissedhim. She touched all this and could say nothing; tears chokedher.

　　"What are you crying for, mother?" he said, waking completely up."Mother, what are you crying for?" he cried in a tearful voice.

　　"I won't cry...I'm crying for joy. It's so long since I've seenyou. I won't, I won't," she said, gulping down her tears andturning away. "Come, it's time for you to dress now," she added,after a pause, and, never letting go his hands, she sat down byhis bedside on the chair, where his clothes were put ready forhim.

　　"How do you dress without me? How..." she tried to begin talkingsimply and cheerfully, but she could not, and again she turnedaway.

　　"I don't have a cold bath, papa didn't order it. And you've notseen Vassily Lukitch? He'll come in soon. Why, you're sittingon my clothes!"

　　And Seryozha went off into a peal of laughter. She looked at himand smiled.

　　"Mother, darling, sweet one!" he shouted, flinging himself on heragain and hugging her. It was as though only now, on seeing hersmile, he fully grasped what had happened.

　　"I don't want that on," he said, taking off her hat. And as itwere, seeing her afresh without her hat, he fell to kissing heragain.

　　"But what did you think about me? You didn't think I was dead?"

　　"I never believed it."

　　"You didn't believe it, my sweet?"

　　"I knew, I knew!" he repeated his favorite phrase, and snatchingthe hand that was stroking his hair, he pressed the open palm tohis mouth and kissed it.