"I don't think so, quite the contrary," Vronsky said, with quiet

surprise.

"It's a plaything," Levin cut him short. "We don't want justices

of the peace. I've never had a single thing to do with them

during eight years. And what I have had was decided wrongly by

them. The justice of the peace is over thirty miles from me.

For some matter of two roubles I should have to send a lawyer,

who costs me fifteen."

And he related how a peasant had stolen some flour from the

miller, and when the miller told him of it, had lodged a

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complaint for slander. All this was utterly uncalled for and

stupid, and Levin felt it himself as he said it.

"Oh, this is such an original fellow!" said Stepan Arkadyevitch

with his most soothing, almond-oil smile. "But come along; I

think they're voting...."

And they separated.

"I can't understand," said Sergey Ivanovitch, who had observed

his brother's clumsiness, "I can't understand how anyone can be

so absolutely devoid of political tact. That's where we Russians

are so deficient. The marshal of the province is our opponent,

and with him you're _ami cochon_, and you beg him to stand. Count

Vronsky, now ...I'm not making a friend of him; he's asked me

to dinner, and I'm not going; but he's one of our side--why make

an enemy of him? Then you ask Nevyedovsky if he's going to

stand. That's not a thing to do."

"Oh, I don't understand it at all! And it's all such nonsense,"

Levin answered gloomily.

"You say it's all such nonsense, but as soon as you have anything

to do with it, you make a muddle."

Levin did not answer, and they walked together into the big room.

The marshal of the province, though he was vaguely conscious in

the air of some trap being prepared for him, and though he had

not been called upon by all to stand, had still made up his mind

to stand. All was silence in the room. The secretary announced

in a loud voice that the captain of the guards, Mihail

Stepanovitch Snetkov, would now be balloted for as marshal of the

province.

The district marshals walked carrying plates, on which were

balls, from their tables to the high table, and the election

began.

"Put it in the right side," whispered Stepan Arkadyevitch, as

with his brother Levin followed the marshal of his district to

the table. But Levin had forgotten by now the calculations that

had been explained to him, and was afraid Stepan Arkadyevitch

might be mistaken in saying "the right side." Surely Snetkov was

the enemy. As he went up, he held the ball in his right hand,

but thinking he was wrong, just at the box he changed to the left

hand, and undoubtedly put the ball to the left. An adept in the

business, standing at the box and seeing by the mere action of

the elbow where each put his ball, scowled with annoyance. It

was no good for him to use his insight.




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