"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
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.