"We are placing our forces," he said, pulling out his whiskers,

"Sergey Ivanovitch!"

And listening to the conversation, he supported Sviazhsky's

contention.

"One district's enough, and Sviazhsky's obviously of the

opposition," he said, words evidently intelligible to all except

Levin.

"Why, Kostya, you here too! I suppose you're converted, eh?" he

added, turning to Levin and drawing his arm through his. Levin

would have been glad indeed to be converted, but could not make

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out what the point was, and retreating a few steps from the

speakers, he explained to Stepan Arkadyevitch his inability to

understand why the marshal of the province should be asked to

stand.

_"O sancta simplicitas!"_ said Stepan Arkadyevitch, and briefly and

clearly he explained it to Levin. If, as at previous elections,

all the districts asked the marshal of the province to stand,

then he would be elected without a ballot. That must not be.

Now eight districts had agreed to call upon him: if two refused

to do so, Snetkov might decline to stand at all; and then the old

party might choose another of their party, which would throw them

completely out in their reckoning. But if only one district,

Sviazhsky's, did not call upon him to stand, Snetkov would let

himself be balloted for. They were even, some of them, going to

vote for him, and purposely to let him get a good many votes, so

that the enemy might be thrown off the scent, and when a

candidate of the other side was put up, they too might give him

some votes. Levin understood to some extent, but not fully, and

would have put a few more questions, when suddenly everyone

began talking and making a noise and they moved towards the big

room.

"What is it? eh? whom?" "No guarantee? whose? what?" "They won't

pass him?" "No guarantee?" "They won't let Flerov in?" "Eh,

because of the charge against him?" "Why, at this rate, they

won't admit anyone. It's a swindle!" "The law!" Levin heard

exclamations on all sides, and he moved into the big room

together with the others, all hurrying somewhere and afraid of

missing something. Squeezed by the crowding noblemen, he drew

near the high table where the marshal of the province, Sviazhsky,

and the other leaders were hotly disputing about something.




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