426 427
them. He was embarrassed through a sense that Darya Alexandrovna
would be annoyed by receiving from an outsider help that should by
rights have come from her own husband. Darya Alexandrovna cer-
tainly did not like this little way of Stepan Arkadyevitch’s of foisting his
domestic duties on others. And she was at once aware that Levin was
aware of this. It was just for this fineness of perception, for this delicacy,
that Darya Alexandrovna liked Levin.
“I know, of course,” said Levin, “that that simply means that you
would like to see me, and I’m exceedingly glad. Though I can fancy
that, used to town housekeeping as you are, you must feel in the wilds
here, and if there’s anything wanted, I’m altogether at your disposal.”
“Oh, no!” said Dolly. “At first things were rather uncomfortable,
but now we’ve settled everything capitally— thanks to my old nurse,”
she said, indicating Marya Philimonovna, who, seeing that they were
speaking of her, smiled brightly and cordially to Levin. She knew him,
and knew that he would be a good match for her young lady, and was
very keen to see the matter settled.
“Won’t you get in, sir, we’ll make room this side!” she said to him.
“No, I’ll walk. Children, who’d like to race the horses with me?”
The children knew Levin very little, and could not remember when
they had seen him, but they experienced in regard to him none of that
strange feeling of shyness and hostility which children so often experi-
ence towards hypocritical, grown-up people, and for which they are so
often and miserably punished. Hypocrisy in anything whatever may
deceive the cleverest and most penetrating man, but the least wide-
awake of children recognizes it, and is revolted by it, however inge-
niously it may be disguised. Whatever faults Levin had, there was not
a trace of hypocrisy in him, and so the children showed him the same
friendliness that they saw in their mother’s face. On his invitation, the
two elder ones at once jumped out to him and ran with him as simply
as they would have done with their nurse or Miss Hoole or their mother.
Lily, too, began begging to go to him, and her mother handed her to
him; he sat her on his shoulder and ran along with her.
“Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid, Darya Alexandrovna!” he said,
smiling good-humoredly to the mother; “there’s no chance of my hurt-
ing or dropping her.”
And, looking at his strong, agile, assiduously careful and needlessly
wary movements, the mother felt her mind at rest, and smiled gaily and
approvingly as she watched him.
Here, in the country, with children, and with Darya Alexandrovna,
with whom he was in sympathy, Levin was in a mood not infrequent
with him, of childlike light-heartedness that she particularly liked in
him. As he ran with the children, he taught them gymnastic feats, set
Miss Hoole laughing with his queer English accent, and talked to
Darya Alexandrovna of his pursuits in the country.
After dinner, Darya Alexandrovna, sitting alone with him on the
balcony, began to speak of Kitty.
“You know, Kitty’s coming here, and is going to spend the summer
with me.”
“Really,” he said, flushing, and at once, to change the conversation,
he said: “Then I’ll send you two cows, shall I? If you insist on a bill you
shall pay me five roubles a month; but it’s really too bad of you.”
“No, thank you. We can manage very well now.”
“Oh, well, then, I’ll have a look at your cows, and if you’ll allow me,
I’ll give directions about their food. Everything depends on their food.”
And Levin, to turn the conversation, explained to Darya
Alexandrovna the theory of cow-keeping, based on the principle that
the cow is simply a machine for the transformation of food into milk,