Stepan Arkadyevitch went upstairs with his pocket bulging with

notes, which the merchant had paid him for three months in

advance. The business of the forest was over, the money in his

pocket; their shooting had been excellent, and Stepan

Arkadyevitch was in the happiest frame of mind, and so he felt

specially anxious to dissipate the ill-humor that had come upon

Levin. He wanted to finish the day at supper as pleasantly as it

had been begun.

Levin certainly was out of humor, and in spite of all his desire

to be affectionate and cordial to his charming visitor, he could

not control his mood. The intoxication of the news that Kitty

was not married had gradually begun to work upon him.

Kitty was not married, but ill, and ill from love for a man who

had slighted her. This slight, as it were, rebounded upon him.

Vronsky had slighted her, and she had slighted him, Levin.

Consequently Vronsky had the right to despise Levin, and

therefore he was his enemy. But all this Levin did not think

out. He vaguely felt that there was something in it insulting to

him, and he was not angry now at what had disturbed him, but he

fell foul of everything that presented itself. The stupid sale

of the forest, the fraud practiced upon Oblonsky and concluded in

his house, exasperated him.

"Well, finished?" he said, meeting Stepan Arkadyevitch upstairs.

"Would you like supper?"

"Well, I wouldn't say no to it. What an appetite I get in the

country! Wonderful! Why didn't you offer Ryabinin something?"

"Oh, damn him!"

"Still, how you do treat him!" said Oblonsky. "You didn't even

shake hands with him. Why not shake hands with him?"

"Because I don't shake hands with a waiter, and a waiter's a

hundred times better than he is."

"What a reactionist you are, really! What about the amalgamation

of classes?" said Oblonsky.

"Anyone who likes amalgamating is welcome to it, but it sickens

me."

"You're a regular reactionist, I see."

"Really, I have never considered what I am. I am Konstantin

Levin, and nothing else."

"And Konstantin Levin very much out of temper," said Stepan

Arkadyevitch, smiling.

"Yes, I am out of temper, and do you know why? Because--excuse

me--of your stupid sale..."

Stepan Arkadyevitch frowned good-humoredly, like one who feels

himself teased and attacked for no fault of his own.

"Come, enough about it!" he said. "When did anybody ever sell

anything without being told immediately after the sale, 'It was

worth much more'? But when one wants to sell, no one will give

anything.... No, I see you've a grudge against that unlucky

Ryabinin."




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