side--why make
an enemy of him? Then you ask Nevyedovsky if he's going to
stand. That's not a thing to do."

"Oh, I don't understand it at all! And it's all such nonsense,"
Levin answered gloomily.

"You say it's all such nonsense, but as soon as you have anything
to do with it, you make a muddle."

Levin did not answer, and they walked together into the big room.

The marshal of the province, though he was vaguely conscious in
the air of some trap being prepared for him, and though he had
not been called upon by all to stand, had still made up his mind
to stand. All was silence in the room. The secretary announced
in a loud voice that the captain of the guards, Mihail
Stepanovitch Snetkov, would now be balloted for as marshal of the
province.

The district marshals walked carrying plates, on which were
balls, from their tables to the high table, and the election
began.

"Put it in the right side," whispered Stepan Arkadyevitch, as
with his brother Levin followed the marshal of his district to
the table. But Levin had forgotten by now the calculations that
had been explained to him, and was afraid Stepan Arkadyevitch
might be mistaken in saying "the right side." Surely Snetkov was
the enemy. As he went up, he held the ball in his right hand,
but thinking he was wrong, just at the box he changed to the left
hand, and undoubtedly put the ball to the left. An adept in the
business, standing at the box and seeing by the mere action of
the elbow where each put his ball, scowled with annoyance. It
was no good for him to use his insight.

Everything was still, and the counting of the balls was heard.
Then a single voice rose and proclaimed the numbers for and
against. The marshal had been voted for by a considerable
majority. All was noise and eager movement towards the doors.
Snetkov came in, and the nobles thronged round him,
congratulating him.

"Well, now is it over?" Levin asked Sergey Ivanovitch.

"It's only just beginning," Sviazhsky said, replying for Sergey
Ivanovitch with a smile. "Some other candidate may receive more
votes than the marshal."

Levin had quite forgotten about that. Now he could only remember
that there was some sort of trickery in it, but he was too bored
to think what it was exactly. He felt depressed, and longed to
get out of the crowd.

As no one was paying any attention to him, and no one apparently
needed him, he quietly slipped away into the little room where
t