CHAPTER XXIX
"Well! all is over, and thank the Lord!" was Anna's first thought after she had said good-by to her brother, who had blocked up the entrance to the railway-carriage, even after the third bell had rung. She sat down on the divanchik next Annushka, her maid, and began to examine the feebly lighted compartment. "Thank the Lord! to-morrow I shall see Serozha and Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, and my good and commonplace life will begin again as of old."
With the same mental preoccupation that had possessed her all that day, Anna found a satisfaction in attending minutely to the arrangements for the journey. With her skillful little hands she opened her red bag, and took out a cushion, placed it on her knees, wrapped her feet warmly, and composed herself comfortably.
A lady, who seemed to be an invalid, had already gone to sleep. Two other ladies entered into conversation with Anna; and a fat, elderly dame, well wrapped up, expressed her opinion on the temperature. Anna exchanged a few words with the ladies, but, not taking any interest in their conversation, asked Annushka for her traveling-lamp, placed it on the back of her seat, and took from her bag a paper-cutter and an English novel. At first she could not read; the going and coming and the general bustle disturbed her; when once the train had started, she could not help listening to the noises: the snow striking against the window, and sticking to the glass; the conductor, as he passed with the snowflakes melting on his coat; the remarks about the terrible storm,—all distracted her attention.
Afterwards it became more monotonous: always the same jolting and jarring, the same snow on the window, the same sudden changes from warmth to cold, and back to warmth again, the same faces in the dim light, and the same voices. And Anna began to read, and to follow what she was reading.
Annushka was already asleep, holding the little red
