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immediately plunged with Pestsov. Slapping Turovtsin on the shoul-
der, he whispered something comic in his ear, and set him down by his
wife and the old prince. Then he told Kitty she was looking very pretty
that evening, and presented Shtcherbatsky to Karenin. In a moment
he had so kneaded together the social dough that the drawing room
became very lively, and there was a merry buzz of voices. Konstantin
Levin was the only person who had not arrived. But this was so much
the better, as going into the dining room, Stepan Arkadyevitch found
to his horror that the port and sherry had been procured from Depre,
and not from Levy, and, directing that the coachman should be sent off
as speedily as possible to Levy’s, he was going back to the drawing
room.
In the dining room he was met by Konstantin Levin.
“I’m not late?”
“You can never help being late!” said Stepan Arkadyevitch, taking
his arm.
“Have you a lot of people? Who’s here?” asked Levin, unable to
help blushing, as he knocked the snow off his cap with his glove.
“All our own set. Kitty’s here. Come along, I’ll introduce you to
Karenin.”
Stepan Arkadyevitch, for all his liberal views, was well aware that
to meet Karenin was sure to be felt a flattering distinction, and so
treated his best friends to this honor. But at that instant Konstantin
Levin was not in a condition to feel all the gratification of making such
an acquaintance. He had not seen Kitty since that memorable evening
when he met Vronsky, not counting, that is, the moment when he had
had a glimpse of her on the highroad. He had known at the bottom of
his heart that he would see her here today. But to keep his thoughts
free, he had tried to persuade himself that he did not know it. Now
when he heard that she was here, he was suddenly conscious of such
delight, and at the same time of such dread, that his breath failed him
and he could not utter what he wanted to say.
“What is she like, what is she like? Like what she used to be, or
like what she was in the carriage? What if Darya Alexandrovna told
the truth? Why shouldn’t it be the truth?” he thought.
“Oh, please, introduce me to Karenin,” he brought out with an
effort, and with a desperately determined step he walked into the
drawing room and beheld her.
She was not the same as she used to be, nor was she as she had
been in the carriage; she was quite different.
She was scared, shy, shame-faced, and still more charming from it.
She saw him the very instant he walked into the room. She had been
expecting him. She was delighted, and so confused at her own delight
that there was a moment, the moment when he went up to her sister
and glanced again at her, when she, and he, and Dolly, who saw it all,
thought she would break down and would begin to cry. She crimsoned,
turned white, crimsoned again, and grew faint, waiting with quivering
lips for him to come to her. He went up to her, bowed, and held out his
hand without speaking. Except for the slight quiver of her lips and the
moisture in her eyes that made them brighter, her smile was almost
calm as she said:
“How long it is since we’ve seen each other!” and with desperate
determination she pressed his hand with her cold hand.
“You’ve not seen me, but I’ve seen you,” said Levin, with a radiant
smile of happiness. “I saw you when you were driving from the railway
station to Ergushovo.”
“When?” she asked, wondering.
“You were driving to Ergushovo,” said Levin, feeling as if he would