-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Лев Толстой
-
- Анна Каренина
-
- Стр. 205/828
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
This
child
,
with
his
innocent
outlook
upon
life
,
was
the
compass
that
showed
them
the
point
to
which
they
had
departed
from
what
they
knew
,
but
did
not
want
to
know
.
This
time
Seryozha
was
not
at
home
,
and
she
was
completely
alone
.
She
was
sitting
on
the
terrace
waiting
for
the
return
of
her
son
,
who
had
gone
out
for
his
walk
and
been
caught
in
the
rain
.
She
had
sent
a
manservant
and
a
maid
out
to
look
for
him
.
Dressed
in
a
white
gown
,
deeply
embroidered
,
she
was
sitting
in
a
corner
of
the
terrace
behind
some
flowers
,
and
did
not
hear
him
.
Bending
her
curly
black
head
,
she
pressed
her
forehead
against
a
cool
watering
pot
that
stood
on
the
parapet
,
and
both
her
lovely
hands
,
with
the
rings
he
knew
so
well
,
clasped
the
pot
.
The
beauty
of
her
whole
figure
,
her
head
,
her
neck
,
her
hands
,
struck
Vronsky
every
time
as
something
new
and
unexpected
.
He
stood
still
,
gazing
at
her
in
ecstasy
.
But
,
directly
he
would
have
made
a
step
to
come
nearer
to
her
,
she
was
aware
of
his
presence
,
pushed
away
the
watering
pot
,
and
turned
her
flushed
face
towards
him
.
“
What
’
s
the
matter
?
You
are
ill
?
”
he
said
to
her
in
French
,
going
up
to
her
.
He
would
have
run
to
her
,
but
remembering
that
there
might
be
spectators
,
he
looked
round
towards
the
balcony
door
,
and
reddened
a
little
,
as
he
always
reddened
,
feeling
that
he
had
to
be
afraid
and
be
on
his
guard
.
“
No
,
I
’
m
quite
well
,
”
she
said
,
getting
up
and
pressing
his
outstretched
hand
tightly
.
“
I
did
not
expect
.
.
.
thee
.
”
“
Mercy
!
what
cold
hands
!
”
he
said
.
“
You
startled
me
,
”
she
said
.
“
I
’
m
alone
,
and
expecting
Seryozha
;
he
’
s
out
for
a
walk
;
they
’
ll
come
in
from
this
side
.
”
But
,
in
spite
of
her
efforts
to
be
calm
,
her
lips
were
quivering
.
“
Forgive
me
for
coming
,
but
I
couldn
’
t
pass
the
day
without
seeing
you
,
”
he
went
on
,
speaking
French
,
as
he
always
did
to
avoid
using
the
stiff
Russian
plural
form
,
so
impossibly
frigid
between
them
,
and
the
dangerously
intimate
singular
.
“
Forgive
you
?
I
’
m
so
glad
!
”