ed her close scrutiny of him, and with an
approving smile listened to his account of how he had spent the
evening.

"Well, I'm very glad I met Vronsky. I felt quite at ease and
natural with him. You understand, I shall try not to see him,
but I'm glad that this awkwardness is all over," he said, and
remembering that by way of trying not to see him, he had
immediately gone to call on Anna, he blushed. "We talk about the
peasants drinking; I don't know which drinks most, the peasantry
or our own class; the peasants do on holidays, but..."

But Kitty took not the slightest interest in discussing the
drinking habits of the peasants. She saw that he blushed, and
she wanted to know why.

"Well, and then where did you go?"

"Stiva urged me awfully to go and see Anna Arkadyevna."

And as he said this, Levin blushed even more, and his doubts as
to whether he had done right in going to see Anna were settled
once for all. He knew now that he ought not to have done so.

Kitty's eyes opened in a curious way and gleamed at Anna's name,
but controlling herself with an effort, she concealed her emotion
and deceived him.

"Oh!" was all she said.

"I'm sure you won't be angry at my going. Stiva begged me to,
and Dolly wished it," Levin went on.

"Oh, no!" she said, but he saw in her eyes a constraint that
boded him no good.

"She is a very sweet, very, very unhappy, good woman," he said,
telling her about Anna, her occupations, and what she had told
him to say to her.

"Yes, of course, she is very much to be pitied," said Kitty, when
he had finished. "Whom was your letter from?"

He told her, and believing in her calm tone, he went to change
his coat.

Coming back, he found Kitty in the same easy chair. When he went
up to her, she glanced at him and broke into sobs.

"What? what is it?" he asked, knowing beforehand what.

"You're in love with that hateful woman; she has bewitched you!
I saw it in your eyes. Yes, yes! What can it all lead to? You
were drinking at the club, drinking and gambling, and then you
went...to her of all people! No, we must go away.... I shall go
away tomorrow."

It was a long while before Levin could soothe his wife. At last
he succeeded in calming her, only by confessing that a feeling of
pity, in conjunction with the wine he had drunk, had been too
much for him, that he had succumbed to Anna's artful influence,
and that he would avoid her. One thing he did with more
since