She knitted her brow, trying to understand. But directly he

began to illustrate his meaning, she understood at once.

"I know: one must find out what he is arguing for, what is

precious to him, then one can..."

She had completely guessed and expressed his badly expressed

idea. Levin smiled joyfully; he was struck by this transition

from the confused, verbose discussion with Pestsov and his

brother to this laconic, clear, almost wordless communication of

the most complex ideas.

Shtcherbatsky moved away from them, and Kitty, going up to a

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card table, sat down, and, taking up the chalk, began drawing

diverging circles over the new green cloth.

They began again on the subject that had been started at dinner--

the liberty and occupations of women. Levin was of the opinion

of Darya Alexandrovna that a girl who did not marry should find a

woman's duties in a family. He supported this view by the fact

that no family can get on without women to help; that in every

family, poor or rich, there are and must be nurses, either

relations or hired.

"No," said Kitty, blushing, but looking at him all the more

boldly with her truthful eyes; "a girl may be so circumstanced

that she cannot live in the family without humiliation, while she

herself..."

At the hint he understood her.

"Oh, yes," he said. "Yes, yes, yes--you're right; you're right!"

And he saw all that Pestsov had been maintaining at dinner of the

liberty of woman, simply from getting a glimpse of the terror of

an old maid's existence and its humiliation in Kitty's heart; and

loving her, he felt that terror and humiliation, and at once gave

up his arguments.

A silence followed. She was still drawing with the chalk on the

table. Her eyes were shining with a soft light. Under the

influence of her mood he felt in all his being a continually

growing tension of happiness.

"Ah! I've scribbled all over the table!" she said, and, laying

down the chalk, she made a movement as though to get up.

"What! shall I be left alone--without her?" he thought with

horror, and he took the chalk. "Wait a minute," he said, sitting

down to the table. "I've long wanted to ask you one thing."

He looked straight into her caressing, though frightened eyes.

"Please, ask it."

"Here," he said; and he wrote the initial letters, _w, y, t, m, i,

c, n, b, d, t, m, n, o, t_. These letters meant, "When you told

me it could never be, did that mean never, or then?" There

seemed no likelihood that she could make out this complicated

sentence; but he looked at her as though his life depended on her

understanding the words. She glanced at him seriously, then

leaned her puckered brow on her hands and began to read. Once or

twice she stole a look at him, as though asking him, "Is it what

I think?"




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