"They've come!" "Here he is!" "Which one?" "Rather young, eh?"

"Why, my dear soul, she looks more dead than alive!" were the

comments in the crowd, when Levin, meeting his bride in the

entrance, walked with her into the church.

Stepan Arkadyevitch told his wife the cause of the delay, and the

guests were whispering it with smiles to one another. Levin saw

nothing and no one; he did not take his eyes off his bride.

Everyone said she had lost her looks dreadfully of late, and was

not nearly so pretty on her wedding day as usual; but Levin did

not think so. He looked at her hair done up high, with the long

white veil and white flowers and the high, stand-up, scalloped

collar, that in such a maidenly fashion hid her long neck at the

sides and only showed it in front, her strikingly slender figure,

and it seemed to him that she looked better than ever--not

because these flowers, this veil, this gown from Paris added

anything to her beauty; but because, in spite of the elaborate

sumptuousness of her attire, the expression of her sweet face, of

her eyes, of her lips was still her own characteristic expression

of guileless truthfulness.

"I was beginning to think you meant to run away," she said, and

smiled to him.

"It's so stupid, what happened to me, I'm ashamed to speak of

it!" he said, reddening, and he was obliged to turn to Sergey

Ivanovitch, who came up to him.

"This is a pretty story of yours about the shirt!" said Sergey

Ivanovitch, shaking his head and smiling.

"Yes, yes!" answered Levin, without an idea of what they were

talking about.

"Now, Kostya, you have to decide," said Stepan Arkadyevitch with

an air of mock dismay, "a weighty question. You are at this

moment just in the humor to appreciate all its gravity. They ask

me, are they to light the candles that have been lighted before

or candles that have never been lighted? It's a matter of ten

roubles," he added, relaxing his lips into a smile. "I have

decided, but I was afraid you might not agree."

Levin saw it was a joke, but he could not smile.

"Well, how's it to be then?--unlighted or lighted candles? that's

the question."

"Yes, yes, unlighted."

"Oh, I'm very glad. The question's decided!" said Stepan

Arkadyevitch, smiling. "How silly men are, though, in this

position," he said to Tchirikov, when Levin, after looking

absently at him, had moved back to his bride.




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