"You do not look at all well," said she.
"Oh, yes! The doctor came this morning, and wasted an hour of my time. I am convinced that some one of my friends sent him. My health is so precious ...."
"No, what did he say?"
And she questioned him about his health and his labors, advising him to take rest, and to come out into the country, where she was.
It was all said with gayety and animation, and with brilliant light in her eyes, but Alekseï Aleksandrovitch attached no special importance to her manner; he heard only her words, and took them in their literal signification. And he replied simply, though jestingly. The conversation had no special weight, yet Anna never afterward could remember the whole short scene without the keen agony of shame.
Serozha came in, accompanied by his governess. If Alekseï Aleksandrovitch had allowed himself to notice, he would have been struck by the timid manner in which the lad looked at his parents,—at his father first, and then at his mother. But he was unwilling to see anything, and he saw nothing.
"Ah, young man! He has grown. Indeed, he is getting to be a great fellow! Good-morning, young man!"
And he stretched out his hand to the puzzled child. Serozha had always been a little afraid of his father; but now, since Alekseï Aleksandrovitch had begun to call him "young man," and since he had begun to rack his brains to discover whether Vronsky were a friend or an enemy, he was becoming more timid than ever. He turned to his mother, as if for protection; he felt at ease only when with her. Meantime Alekseï Aleksandrovitch laid his hand on the boy's shoulder, and asked his governess about him; but the child was so painfully shy of him that Anna saw he was going to cry.
Anna, who had flushed at the moment her son came in, now noticing that it was awkward for him, quickly jumped up, raised Alekseï Aleksandrovitch's hand to let the boy go, kissed the little fellow, and took him
