This child, with his innocent outlook upon life, was the compass that showed them the point to which they had departed from what they knew, but did not want to know.

This time Seryozha was not at home, and she was completely alone.

She was sitting on the terrace waiting for the return of her son, who had gone out for his walk and been caught in the rain.

She had sent a manservant and a maid out to look for him.

Dressed in a white gown, deeply embroidered, she was sitting in a corner of the terrace behind some flowers, and did not hear him.