Levin meanwhile, in his trousers, but without his coat and

waistcoat, was walking to and fro in his room at the hotel,

continually putting his head out of the door and looking up and

down the corridor. But in the corridor there was no sign of the

person he was looking for and he came back in despair, and

frantically waving his hands addressed Stepan Arkadyevitch, who

was smoking serenely.

"Was ever a man in such a fearful fool's position?" he said.

"Yes, it is stupid," Stepan Arkadyevitch assented, smiling

soothingly. "But don't worry, it'll be brought directly."

"No, what is to be done!" said Levin, with smothered fury. "And

these fools of open waistcoats! Out of the question!" he said,

looking at the crumpled front of his shirt. "And what if the

things have been taken on to the railway station!" he roared in

desperation.

"Then you must put on mine."

"I ought to have done so long ago, if at all."

"It's not nice to look ridiculous.... Wait a bit! it will

_come round_."

The point was that when Levin asked for his evening suit, Kouzma,

his old servant, had brought him the coat, waistcoat, and

everything that was wanted.

"But the shirt!" cried Levin.

"You've got a shirt on," Kouzma answered, with a placid smile.

Kouzma had not thought of leaving out a clean shirt, and on

receiving instructions to pack up everything and send it round to

the Shtcherbatskys' house, from which the young people were to

set out the same evening, he had done so, packing everything but

the dress suit. The shirt worn since the morning was crumpled

and out of the question with the fashionable open waistcoat. It

was a long way to send to the Shtcherbatskys'. They sent out to

buy a shirt. The servant came back; everything was shut up--it

was Sunday. They sent to Stepan Arkadyevitch's and brought a

shirt--it was impossibly wide and short. They sent finally to

the Shtcherbatskys' to unpack the things. The bridegroom was

expected at the church while he was pacing up and down his room

like a wild beast in a cage, peeping out into the corridor, and

with horror and despair recalling what absurd things he had said

to Kitty and what she might be thinking now.

At last the guilty Kouzma flew panting into the room with the

shirt.

"Only just in time. They were just lifting it into the van,"

said Kouzma.

Three minutes later Levin ran full speed into the corridor, not

looking at his watch for fear of aggravating his sufferings.




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