itch had let her in, and that she was in the child's room; they knew, too, that their master was in the habit of going to Serozha every morning at nine o'clock: each one felt that the husband and wife ought not to meet, that it must be prevented.
Korneï, the valet, went down to the Swiss to ask why Anna had been let in; and, finding that Kapitonuitch had taken her up-stairs, he reprimanded him severely. The Swiss maintained an obstinate silence till the valet declared that he deserved to lose his place, when the old man jumped at him, and, shaking his fist in his face, said: —
"What is that? you would not let her in? You've served here ten years, and had nothing but kindness from her, but you would have said, 'Now, go away from here!' You know what policy is, you sly dog. What you don't forget is to rob your master, and to carry off his racoon-skin shubas!"
"Soldier!" replied Korneï, scornfully, and he turned toward the nurse, who was coming in just at this moment. "What do you think, Marya Yefimovna? He has let in Anna Arkadyevna, without saying anything to anybody, and just when Alekseï Aleksandrovitch, as soon as he is up, will be going to the nursery."
"What a scrape! what a scrape!" said the nurse. "But, Kornei Vasilyevitch, find some way to keep your master, while I run to warn her, and get her out of the way. What a scrape!"
"When the nurse went into the child's room, Serozha was telling his mother how Nadenka and he had fallen when sliding down a hill of ice, and turned three somersaults. Anna was listening to the sound of her son's voice, looking at his face, watching the play of his features, feeling his little arms, but not hearing a word what he said. She had to go away, she had to leave him; this alone she understood and felt. She had heard Vasili Lukitch's steps, and his little discreet cough, as he came to the door, and now she heard the nurse coming in; but, unable to move or to speak, she remained as fixed as a statue.
