(^12301231)
those moments were poisoned forever. He could only think of her as
triumphant, successful in her menace of a wholly useless remorse never
to be effaced. He lost all consciousness of toothache, and his face
worked with sobs.
Passing twice up and down beside the baggage in silence and
regaining his self-possession, he addressed Sergey Ivanovitch calmly:
“You have had no telegrams since yesterday’s? Yes, driven back for
a third time, but a decisive engagement expected for tomorrow.”
And after talking a little more of King Milan’s proclamation, and
the immense effect it might have, they parted, going to their carriages
on hearing the second bell.
Chapter 6.
Sergey Ivanovitch had not telegraphed to his brother to send to
meet him, as he did not know when he should be able to leave Moscow.
Levin was not at home when Katavasov and Sergey Ivanovitch in a fly
hired at the station drove up to the steps of the Pokrovskoe house, as
black as Moors from the dust of the road. Kitty, sitting on the balcony
with her father and sister, recognized her brother-in-law, and ran down
to meet him.
“What a shame not to have let us know,” she said, giving her hand
to Sergey Ivanovitch, and putting her forehead up for him to kiss.
“We drove here capitally, and have not put you out,” answered
Sergey Ivanovitch. “I’m so dirty. I’m afraid to touch you. I’ve been so
busy, I didn’t know when I should be able to tear myself away. And so
you’re still as ever enjoying your peaceful, quiet happiness,” he said,
smiling, “out of the reach of the current in your peaceful backwater.
Here’s our friend Fyodor Vassilievitch who has succeeded in getting
here at last.”
“But I’m not a negro, I shall look like a human being when I wash,”
said Katavasov in his jesting fashion, and he shook hands and smiled,
his teeth flashing white in his black face.
“Kostya will be delighted. He has gone to his settlement. It’s time
he should be home.”