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thoughts that could settle nothing. One thing could be seen beyond
doubt—that was that at the actual moment the discussion was irritat-
ing Sergey Ivanovitch, and so it was wrong to continue it. And Levin
ceased speaking and then called the attention of his guests to the fact
that the storm clouds were gathering, and that they had better be
going home before it rained.
Chapter 17.
The old prince and Sergey Ivanovitch got into the trap and drove
off; the rest of the party hastened homewards on foot.
But the storm-clouds, turning white and then black, moved down
so quickly that they had to quicken their pace to get home before the
rain. The foremost clouds, lowering and black as soot-laden smoke,
rushed with extraordinary swiftness over the sky. They were still two
hundred paces from home and a gust of wind had already blown up,
and every second the downpour might be looked for.
The children ran ahead with frightened and gleeful shrieks. Darya
Alexandrovna, struggling painfully with her skirts that clung round her
legs, was not walking, but running, her eyes fixed on the children. The
men of the party, holding their hats on, strode with long steps beside
her. They were just at the steps when a big drop fell splashing on the
edge of the iron guttering. The children and their elders after them ran
into the shelter of the house, talking merrily.
“Katerina Alexandrovna?” Levin asked of Agafea Mihalovna, who
met them with kerchiefs and rugs in the hall.
“We thought she was with you,” she said.
“And Mitya?”
“In the copse, he must be, and the nurse with him.”
Levin snatched up the rugs and ran towards the copse.