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He went out of the meadow and walked along the highroad towards

the village. A slight wind arose, and the sky looked gray and

sullen. The gloomy moment had come that usually precedes the

dawn, the full triumph of light over darkness.

Shrinking from the cold, Levin walked rapidly, looking at the

ground. "What's that? Someone coming," he thought, catching the

tinkle of bells, and lifting his head. Forty paces from him a

carriage with four horses harnessed abreast was driving towards

him along the grassy road on which he was walking. The

shaft-horses were tilted against the shafts by the ruts, but the

dexterous driver sitting on the box held the shaft over the ruts,

so that the wheels ran on the smooth part of the road.

This was all Levin noticed, and without wondering who it could

be, he gazed absently at the coach.