"Yes, come along," answered Levin in ecstasy, hearing unceasingly

the sound of that voice saying, "Good-bye till this evening," and

seeing the smile with which it was said.

"To the England or the Hermitage?"

"I don't mind which."

"All right, then, the England," said Stepan Arkadyevitch,

selecting that restaurant because he owed more there than at the

Hermitage, and consequently considered it mean to avoid it.

"Have you got a sledge? That's first-rate, for I sent my

carriage home."

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The friends hardly spoke all the way. Levin was wondering what

that change in Kitty's expression had meant, and alternately

assuring himself that there was hope, and falling into despair,

seeing clearly that his hopes were insane, and yet all the while

he felt himself quite another man, utterly unlike what he had

been before her smile and those words, "Good-bye till this

evening."

Stepan Arkadyevitch was absorbed during the drive in composing

the menu of the dinner.

"You like turbot, don't you?" he said to Levin as they were

arriving.

"Eh?" responded Levin. "Turbot? Yes, I'm _awfully_ fond of

turbot."




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