Анна Кареніна

Chapter 5

           Stillmoredelightfulwerethemomentswhentheyreachedthestreamwheretherowsended,andtheoldmanrubbedhisscythewiththewet,thickgrass,rinseditsbladeinthefreshwaterofthestream,ladledoutalittleinatindipper,andofferedLevinadrink.

           “Whatdoyousaytomyhome-brew,eh?Good,eh?”saidhe,winking.

           AndtrulyLevinhadneverdrunkanyliquorsogoodasthiswarmwaterwithgreenbitsfloatinginit,andatasteofrustfromthetindipper.Andimmediatelyafterthiscamethedelicious,slowsaunter,withhishandonthescythe,duringwhichhecouldwipeawaythestreamingsweat,takedeepbreathsofair,andlookaboutatthelongstringofmowersandatwhatwashappeningaroundintheforestandthecountry.

           ThelongerLevinmowed,theoftenerhefeltthemomentsofunconsciousnessinwhichitseemednothishandsthatswungthescythe,butthescythemowingofitself,abodyfulloflifeandconsciousnessofitsown,andasthoughbymagic,withoutthinkingofit,theworkturnedoutregularandwell-finishedofitself.Thesewerethemostblissfulmoments.

           Itwasonlyhardworkwhenhehadtobreakoffthemotion,whichhadbecomeunconscious,andtothink;whenhehadtomowroundahillockoratuftofsorrel.Theoldmandidthiseasily.Whenahillockcamehechangedhisaction,andatonetimewiththeheel,andatanotherwiththetipofhisscythe,clippedthehillockroundbothsideswithshortstrokes.

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