in the wagonette?" her mother said
reproachfully.

"Yes, at a walking pace, princess."

Levin never called the princess "maman" as men often do call
their mothers-in-law, and the princess disliked his not doing so.
But though he liked and respected the princess, Levin could not
call her so without a sense of profaning his feeling for his dead
mother.

"Come with us, maman," said Kitty.

"I don't like to see such imprudence."

"Well, I'll walk then, I'm so well." Kitty got up and went to her
husband and took his hand.

"You may be well, but everything in moderation," said the
princess.

"Well, Agafea Mihalovna, is the jam done?" said Levin, smiling to
Agafea Mihalovna, and trying to cheer her up. "Is it all right
in the new way?"

"I suppose it's all right. For our notions it's boiled too
long."

"It'll be all the better, Agafea Mihalovna, it won't mildew, even
though our ice has begun to thaw already, so that we've no cool
cellar to store it," said Kitty, at once divining her husband's
motive, and addressing the old housekeeper with the same feeling;
"but your pickle's so good, that mamma says she never tasted any
like it," she added, smiling, and putting her kerchief straight.

Agafea Mihalovna looked angrily at Kitty.

"You needn't try to console me, mistress. I need only to look at
you with him, and I feel happy," she said, and something in the
rough familiarity of that _with him_ touched Kitty.

"Come along with us to look for mushrooms, you will show us the
best places." Agafea Mihalovna smiled and shook her head, as
though to say: "I should like to be angry with you too, but I
can't."

"Do it, please, by my receipt," said the princess; "put some
paper over the jam, and moisten it with a little rum, and without
even ice, it will never go mildewy."

Chapter 3

Kitty was particularly glad of a chance of being alone with her
husband, for she had noticed the shade of mortification that
had passed over his face--always so quick to reflect every
feeling--at the moment when he had come onto the terrace and
asked what they were talking of, and had got no answer.

When they had set off on foot ahead of the others, and had come
out of sight of the house onto the beaten dusty road, marked with
rusty wheels and sprinkled with grains of corn, she clung faster
to his arm and pressed it closer to her. He had quite forgotten
the momentary unpleasant impression, and alone with her he felt,
now