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作者: Leo Tolstoy

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Today was a great day for him-the anniversary of his coronation.
Before dawn he had slept for a few hours, and refreshed,
vigorous, and in good spirits, he mounted his horse and rode out
into the field in that happy mood in which everything seems
possible and everything succeeds. He sat motionless, looking at
the heights visible above the mist, and his cold face wore that
special look of confident, self-complacent happiness that one
sees on the face of a boy happily in love. The marshals stood
behind him not venturing to distract his attention. He looked now
at the Pratzen Heights, now at the sun floating up out of the
mist.

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