The men stood round the strong-smelling spirits and salt

delicacies, and the discussion of the Russification of Poland

between Koznishev, Karenin, and Pestsov died down in anticipation

of dinner.

Sergey Ivanovitch was unequaled in his skill in winding up the

most heated and serious argument by some unexpected pinch of

Attic salt that changed the disposition of his opponent. He did

this now.

Alexey Alexandrovitch had been maintaining that the Russification

of Poland could only be accomplished as a result of larger

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measures which ought to be introduced by the Russian government.

Pestsov insisted that one country can only absorb another when it

is the more densely populated.

Koznishev admitted both points, but with limitations. As they

were going out of the drawing room to conclude the argument,

Koznishev said, smiling: "So, then, for the Russification of our foreign populations there

is but one method--to bring up as many children as one can. My

brother and I are terribly in fault, I see. You married men,

especially you, Stepan Arkadyevitch, are the real patriots: what

number have you reached?" he said, smiling genially at their host

and holding out a tiny wine glass to him.

Everyone laughed, and Stepan Arkadyevitch with particular good

humor.

"Oh, yes, that's the best method!" he said, munching cheese and

filling the wine-glass with a special sort of spirit. The

conversation dropped at the jest.

"This cheese is not bad. Shall I give you some?" said the master

of the house. "Why, have you been going in for gymnastics

again?" he asked Levin, pinching his muscle with his left hand.

Levin smiled, bent his arm, and under Stepan Arkadyevitch's

fingers the muscles swelled up like a sound cheese, hard as a

knob of iron, through the fine cloth of the coat.

"What biceps! A perfect Samson!"

"I imagine great strength is needed for hunting bears," observed

Alexey Alexandrovitch, who had the mistiest notions about the

chase. He cut off and spread with cheese a wafer of bread fine

as a spider-web.

Levin smiled.

"Not at all. Quite the contrary; a child can kill a bear," he

said, with a slight bow moving aside for the ladies, who were

approaching the table.

"You have killed a bear, I've been told!" said Kitty, trying

assiduously to catch with her fork a perverse mushroom that would

slip away, and setting the lace quivering over her white arm.

"Are there bears on your place?" she added, turning her charming

little head to him and smiling.

There was apparently nothing extraordinary in what she said, but

what unutterable meaning there was for him in every sound, in

every turn of her lips, her eyes, her hand as she said it! There

was entreaty for forgiveness, and trust in him, and tenderness--

soft, timid tenderness--and promise and hope and love for him,

which he could not but believe in and which choked him with

happiness.




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