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carpet to the half-dark study, lighted up by a single lamp with a big
dark shade. Another lamp with a reflector was hanging on the wall,
lighting up a big full-length portrait of a woman, which Levin could not
help looking at. It was the portrait of Anna, painted in Italy by Mihailov.
While Stepan Arkadyevitch went behind the treillage, and the man’s
voice which had been speaking paused, Levin gazed at the portrait,
which stood out from the frame in the brilliant light thrown on it, and
he could not tear himself away from it. He positively forgot where he
was, and not even hearing what was said, he could not take his eyes off
the marvelous portrait. It was not a picture, but a living, charming
woman, with black curling hair, with bare arms and shoulders, with a
pensive smile on the lips, covered with soft down; triumphantly and
softly she looked at him with eyes that baffled him. She was not living
only because she was more beautiful than a living woman can be.
“I am delighted!” He heard suddenly near him a voice, unmistak-
ably addressing him, the voice of the very woman he had been admir-
ing in the portrait. Anna had come from behind the treillage to meet
him, and Levin saw in the dim light of the study the very woman of the
portrait, in a dark blue shot gown, not in the same position nor with the
same expression, but with the same perfection of beauty which the
artist had caught in the portrait. She was less dazzling in reality, but, on
the other hand, there was something fresh and seductive in the living
woman which was not in the portrait.
Chapter 10.
She had risen to meet him, not concealing her pleasure at seeing
him; and in the quiet ease with which she held out her little vigorous
hand, introduced him to Vorkuev and indicated a red-haired, pretty
little girl who was sitting at work, calling her her pupil, Levin recog-
nized and liked the manners of a woman of the great world, always
self-possessed and natural.
“I am delighted, delighted,” she repeated, and on her lips these
simple words took for Levin’s ears a special significance. “I have known
you and liked you for a long while, both from your friendship with Stiva
and for your wife’s sake.... I knew her for a very short time, but she left
on me the impression of an exquisite flower, simply a flower. And to
think she will soon be a mother!”
She spoke easily and without haste, looking now and then from
Levin to her brother, and Levin felt that the impression he was making
was good, and he felt immediately at home, simple and happy with her,
as though he had known her from childhood.
“Ivan Petrovitch and I settled in Alexey’s study,” she said in an-
swer to Stepan Arkadyevitch’s question whether he might smoke, “just
so as to be able to smoke”—and glancing at Levin, instead of asking
whether he would smoke, she pulled closer a tortoise-shell cigar-case
and took a cigarette.