IN THE SLANTING SHADOW of a pile of sacks heaped up on the platform, Vronsky, in a long overcoat, his hat pulled down low and his hands in his pockets, was walking up and down like an animal in a cage, turning sharply every twenty paces.
Nell’ombra serale, obliqua, dei sacchi ammassati sulla banchina, Vronskij, nel suo cappotto lungo, col cappello abbassato e le mani in tasca, camminava, voltandosi rapidamente a ogni venti passi, come una belva in gabbia.