An excerpt from the original text.(complete · 1945 words)
ne of Anna’s objects in coming back to Russia had been to see her son.
From the day she left Italy the thought of it had never ceased to
agitate her. And as she got nearer to Petersburg, the delight and
importance of this meeting grew ever greater in her imagination. She
did not even put to herself the question how to arrange it. It seemed
to her natural and simple to see her son when she should be in the same
town with him. But on her arrival in Petersburg she was suddenly made
distinctly aware of her present position in society, and she grasped
the fact that to arrange this meeting was no easy matter.
She had now been two days in Petersburg. The thought of her son never
left her for a single instant, but she had not yet seen him. To go
straight to the house, where she might meet Alexey Alexandrovitch, that
she felt she had no right to do. She might be refused admittance and
insulted. To write and so enter into relations with her husband—that it
made her miserable to think of doing; she could only be at peace when
she did not think of her husband. To get a glimpse of her son out
walking, finding out where and when he went out, was not enough for
her; she had so looked forward to this meeting, she had so much she
must say to him, she so longed to embrace him, to kiss him. Seryozha’s
old nurse might be a help to her and show her what to do. But the nurse
was not now living in Alexey Alexandrovitch’s house. In this
uncertainty, and in efforts to find the nurse, two days had slipped by.
Hearing of the close intimacy between Alexey Alexandrovitch and
Countess Lidia Ivanovna, Anna decided on the third day to write to her
a letter, which cost her great pains, and in which she intentionally
said that permission to see her son must depend on her husband’s
generosity. She knew that if the letter were shown to 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 the most
cruel and unexpected answer, that there was no answer. She had never
felt so humiliated as at the moment when, sending for the
commissionaire, she heard from him the exact account of how he had
waited, and how afterwards he had been told there was no answer. Anna
felt humiliated, insulted, but she saw that from her point of view
Countess Lidia Ivanovna was right. Her suffering was the more poignant
that she had to bear it in solitude. She could not and would not share
it with Vronsky. She knew that to him, although he was the primary
cause of her distress, the question of her seeing her son would seem a
matter of very little consequence. She knew that he would never be
capable of understanding all the depth of her suffering, that for his
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 she hid from him
everything that related to her son. Spending the whole day at home she
considered ways of seeing her son, and had reached a decision to write
to her husband. She was just composing this letter when she was handed
the letter from Lidia Ivanovna. The countess’s silence had subdued and
depressed her, but the letter, all that she read between the lines in
it, so exasperated her, this malice was so revolting beside her
passionate, legitimate tenderness for her son, that she turned against
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 to submit 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’s house, bribe or deceive the
servants, but at any cost see her son and overturn the hideous
deception with which they were encompassing the unhappy child.
She went to a toy shop, bought toys and thought over a plan of action.
She would go early in the morning at eight o’clock, when Alexey
Alexandrovitch would be certain not to be up. She would have money in
her hand to give the hall-porter and the footman, so that they should
let her in, and not raising her veil, she would say that she had come
from Seryozha’s godfather to congratulate him, and that she had been
charged to leave the toys at his bedside. She had prepared everything
but the words she should say to her son. Often as she had dreamed of
it, she could never think of anything.
The next day, at eight o’clock in the morning, Anna got out of a hired
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 of the window and
seen a lady in a veil standing close up to the door. His assistant, a
lad Anna did not know, had no sooner opened the door to her than she
came in, and pulling a three-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 the second 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 went out to
her, opened the second door for her, and asked her what she was pleased
to want.
“From Prince Skorodumov for Sergey Alexeitch,” she said.
“His honor’s not up yet,” said the porter, looking at her attentively.
Anna had not anticipated that the absolutely unchanged hall of the
house where she had lived for nine years would so greatly affect her.
Memories sweet and painful rose one after another in her heart, and for
a moment she forgot what she was here for.
“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.
“Seryozha! my darling boy!” she said, breathing hard and putting her
arms round his plump little body. “Mother!” he said, wriggling about in
her arms so as to touch her hands with different parts of him.
Smiling sleepily still with closed eyes, he flung fat little arms round
her shoulders, rolled towards her, with the delicious sleepy warmth and
fragrance that is only found in children, and began rubbing his face
against her neck and shoulders.
“I know,” he said, opening his eyes; “it’s my birthday today. I knew
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 changed in
her absence. She knew, and did not know, the bare legs so long now,
that were thrust out below the quilt, those short-cropped curls on his
neck in which she had so often kissed him. She touched all this and
could say nothing; tears choked her.
“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 seen you.
I won’t, I won’t,” she said, gulping down her tears and turning away.
“Come, it’s time for you to dress now,” she added, after a pause, and,
never letting go his hands, she sat down by his bedside on the chair,
where his clothes were put ready for him.
“How do you dress without me? How....” she tried to begin talking
simply and cheerfully, but she could not, and again she turned away.
“I don’t have a cold bath, papa didn’t order it. And you’ve not seen
Vassily Lukitch? He’ll come in soon. Why, you’re sitting on my
clothes!”
And Seryozha went off into a peal of laughter. She looked at him and
smiled.
“Mother, darling, sweet one!” he shouted, flinging himself on her again
and hugging her. It was as though only now, on seeing her smile, he
fully grasped what had happened.
“I don’t want that on,” he said, taking off her hat. And as it were,
seeing her afresh without her hat, he fell to kissing her again.
“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 snatching the
hand that was stroking his hair, he pressed the open palm to his mouth
and kissed it.
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Let's Analyse the Pattern
When overwhelmed by problems, engaging in physical, useful work alongside others can break cycles of overthinking and restore mental clarity.
Why This Matters
Connect literature to life
This chapter teaches how to distinguish between work that heals and work that harms, showing that sometimes the most therapeutic activity is the one that completely removes you from your usual identity and problems.
Practice This Today
This week, notice when you're stuck in mental loops—then ask 'What needs doing?' and choose physical, useful tasks that engage your hands and put you around other people.
Now let's explore the literary elements.
Key Quotes & Analysis
"The longer Levin went on mowing, the oftener he experienced those moments of oblivion when his arms no longer seemed to swing the scythe, but the scythe itself his whole body, so conscious and full of life; and as if by magic, regularly and definitely without a thought being given to it, the work accomplished itself of its own accord."
Context: As Levin loses himself in the rhythm of mowing
This describes the meditative state that comes from repetitive physical work. Levin's mind stops racing and his body takes over, creating a flow state that brings him peace. The work becomes automatic and healing.
In Today's Words:
When you get so absorbed in physical work that you stop overthinking and just move on autopilot, feeling completely in the zone.
"He felt as if some external power were moving him."
Context: Describing Levin's experience while working
Shows how physical labor can create a transcendent experience where the ego dissolves and one feels connected to something larger. This is exactly what Levin's troubled mind needed - a break from self-consciousness.
In Today's Words:
He felt like he was in the flow, like something bigger than himself was carrying him along.
"The grass cut with a juicy sound, and was laid out in high, fragrant rows."
Context: Describing the sensory experience of the work
The vivid sensory details ground Levin in the present moment. Instead of abstract worries about life's meaning, he's focused on immediate, tangible results. This connection to the physical world provides relief from mental suffering.
In Today's Words:
The work felt real and satisfying in a way his thoughts never did.
Thematic Threads
Class
In This Chapter
Levin can choose manual labor as therapy while peasants work from necessity, yet genuine connection transcends this divide
Development
Continues exploration of class privilege and authentic human connection across social boundaries
In Your Life:
You might notice how your relationship with work differs from those who have fewer choices about their labor
Identity
In This Chapter
Levin temporarily escapes his identity crisis through losing himself in simple, repetitive work
Development
Shows identity formation through action rather than just introspection
In Your Life:
You might find clarity about who you are through what you do, not just what you think
Human Connection
In This Chapter
Levin experiences genuine camaraderie with workers through shared physical labor
Development
Demonstrates how authentic connection often happens through shared activity rather than conversation
In Your Life:
You might find deeper bonds form when working alongside others toward common goals
Mental Health
In This Chapter
Physical exhaustion provides relief from relentless self-examination and existential anxiety
Development
Introduced here as alternative to purely intellectual approaches to life's problems
In Your Life:
You might discover that moving your body helps quiet an overactive mind more than thinking does
Meaning
In This Chapter
Levin finds temporary peace not through grand revelations but through ordinary, useful work
Development
Suggests meaning comes from simple actions rather than complex philosophizing
In Your Life:
You might find purpose in daily tasks rather than waiting for life-changing insights
You now have the context. Time to form your own thoughts.
Discussion Questions
- 1
What specific changes does Levin experience when he starts working in the fields with the peasants?
analysis • surface - 2
Why does physical labor succeed in quieting Levin's mind when thinking and analyzing failed?
analysis • medium - 3
Where do you see people today using physical work or hands-on activities to deal with stress or overthinking?
application • medium - 4
When you're stuck in a cycle of worry or overthinking, what kind of productive work could you do to break that pattern?
application • deep - 5
What does Levin's experience reveal about the relationship between our minds, our bodies, and our need for connection with others?
reflection • deep
Critical Thinking Exercise
Map Your Productive Escape Routes
Make a list of times when you felt mentally stuck or overwhelmed, then identify what physical activities or useful tasks helped you feel better. Look for patterns in what worked and what didn't. Consider both solo activities and those done with others.
Consider:
- •Notice whether activities done alone or with others were more effective for you
- •Pay attention to whether the work needed to feel genuinely useful or if any movement helped
- •Consider how physical tiredness felt different from mental exhaustion in those moments
Journaling Prompt
Write about a time when you were overthinking a problem and something completely different - cleaning, exercising, helping someone - gave you clarity. What made that activity effective when thinking harder wasn't working?
Coming Up Next...
Chapter 154
The reunion Anna fought so hard for is about to be interrupted. Sometimes getting what you desperately want only makes you realize how much you've actually lost.
