most of all was the change that had taken place in Anna, whom she knew so well and loved. Any other woman, a less close observer, not knowing Anna before, and particularly not having thought as Darya Alexandrovna had been thinking on the road, would not have noticed anything special in Anna. But now Dolly was struck by that temporary beauty, which is only found in women during the moments of love, and which she saw now in Anna's face. Everything in her face, the clearly marked dimples in her cheeks and chin, the line of her lips, the smile which, as it were, fluttered about her face, the brilliance of her eyes, the grace and rapidity of her movements, the fullness of the notes of her voice, even the manner in which, with a sort of angry friendliness, she answered Veslovsky when he asked permission to get on her cob, so as to teach it to gallop with the right leg foremost - it was all peculiarly fascinating, and it seemed as if Anna herself were aware of it, and rejoicing in it.

When both the women were seated in the carriage, a sudden embarrassment came over both of them. Anna was disconcerted by the intent look of inquiry Dolly fixed upon her. Dolly was embarrassed because after Sviiazhsky's phrase about `this vehicle,' she could not help feeling ashamed of the dirty old carriage in which Anna was sitting with her. The coachman Philip and the countinghouse clerk were experiencing the same sensation. The countinghouse clerk, to conceal his confusion, busied himself settling the ladies, but Philip the coachman became sullen, and was bracing himself not to be overawed in future by this external superiority. He smiled ironically, looking at the raven horse, and was already deciding in his own mind that this smart trotter in the charabanc was only good for promenade, and wouldn't do forty verstas straight off in the heat.

The peasants had all got up from the telega and were inquisitively and mirthfully staring at the meeting of the friends, making their comments on it.

`They're pleased, too; haven't seen each other for a long while,' said the curly-headed old man with the bast round his hair.

`I say, Uncle Gherasim, if we could take that raven horse now, to cart the corn, that 'ud be quick work!'

`Look-ee! Is that a woman in breeches?' said one of them, pointing to Vassenka Veslovsky sitting in a sidesaddle.

`Nay, a man! See how smartly he's going it!'

`Eh, lads! Seems we're not going to sleep, then?'

`What chance of sleep today!' said the old man, with a sidelong look at the sun. `Midday's past, look-ee! Get your hooks, and come along!'