"Would you kindly wait?" said Kapitonitch, taking off her fur
cloak.
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 any
sound; with a guilty and imploring glance at the old man she went
with light, swift steps up the stairs. Bent double, and his
galoshes catching in the steps, Kapitonitch ran after her, trying
to overtake her.
"The tutor's there; maybe he's not dressed. I'll let him know."
Anna still mounted the familiar staircase, not understanding what
the old man was saying.
"This way, to the left, if you please. Excuse its not being
tidy. His honor's in the old parlor now," the hall porter said,
panting. "Excuse me, wait a little, your excellency; I'll just
see," he said, and overtaking her, he opened the high door and
disappeared behind it. Anna stood still waiting. "He's only
just awake," said the hall porter, coming out. And at the very
instant the porter said this, Anna caught the sound of a childish
yawn. From the sound of this yawn alone she knew her son and
seemed to see him living before her eyes.
"Let me in; go away!" she said, and went in through the high
doorway. On the right of the door stood a bed, and sitting up in
the bed was the boy. His little body bent forward with his
nightshirt unbuttoned, he was stretching and still yawning. The
instant his lips came together they curved into a blissfully
sleepy smile, and with that smile he slowly and deliciously
rolled back again.
"Seryozha!" she whispered, going noiselessly up to him.
When she was parted from him, and all this latter time when she
had been feeling a fresh rush of love for him, she had pictured
him as he was at four years old, when she had loved him most of
all. Now he was not even the same as when she had left him; he
was still further from the four-year-old baby, more grown and
thinner. How thin his face was, how short his hair was! What
long hands! How he had changed since she left him! But it was
he with his head, his lips, his soft neck and broad little
shoulders.
"Seryozha!" she repeated just in the child's ear.
He raised himself again on his elbow, turned his tangled head
from side to side as though looking for something, and opened his
eyes. Slowly and inquiringly he looked for several seconds at
his mother standing motionless before him, then all at once he
smiled a blissful smile, and shutting his eyes, rolled not
backwards but towards her into her arms.