On entering the drawing room Stepan Arkadyevitch apologized,

explaining that he had been detained by that prince, who was

always the scapegoat for all his absences and unpunctualities,

and in one moment he had made all the guests acquainted with each

other, and, bringing together Alexey Alexandrovitch and Sergey

Koznishev, started them on a discussion of the Russification of

Poland, into which they immediately plunged with Pestsov.

Slapping Turovtsin on the shoulder, he whispered something comic

in his ear, and set him down by his wife and the old prince.

Then he told Kitty she was looking very pretty that evening, and

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presented Shtcherbatsky to Karenin. In a moment he had so

kneaded together the social dough that the drawing room became

very lively, and there was a merry buzz of voices. Konstantin

Levin was the only person who had not arrived. But this was so

much the better, as going into the dining room, Stepan

Arkadyevitch found to his horror that the port and sherry had

been procured from Deprè, and not from Levy, and, directing that

the coachman should be sent off as speedily as possible to

Levy's, he was going back to the drawing room.

In the dining room he was met by Konstantin Levin.

"I'm not late?"

"You can never help being late!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, taking

his arm.

"Have you a lot of people? Who's here?" asked Levin, unable to

help blushing, as he knocked the snow off his cap with his glove.

"All our own set. Kitty's here. Come along, I'll introduce you

to Karenin."

Stepan Arkadyevitch, for all his liberal views, was well aware

that to meet Karenin was sure to be felt a flattering

distinction, and so treated his best friends to this honor. But

at that instant Konstantin Levin was not in a condition to feel

all the gratification of making such an acquaintance. He had not

seen Kitty since that memorable evening when he met Vronsky, not

counting, that is, the moment when he had had a glimpse of her on

the highroad. He had known at the bottom of his heart that he

would see her here today. But to keep his thoughts free, he had

tried to persuade himself that he did not know it. Now when he

heard that she was here, he was suddenly conscious of such

delight, and at the same time of such dread, that his breath

failed him and he could not utter what he wanted to say.

"What is she like, what is she like? Like what she used to be,

or like what she was in the carriage? What if Darya Alexandrovna

told the truth? Why shouldn't it be the truth?" he thought.




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