to Sergey Ivanovitch, and putting her forehead up for him to
kiss.

"We drove here capitally, and have not put you out," answered
Sergey Ivanovitch. "I'm so dirty. I'm afraid to touch you.
I've been so busy, I didn't know when I should be able to tear
myself away. And so you're still as ever enjoying your peaceful,
quiet happiness," he said, smiling, "out of the reach of the
current in your peaceful backwater. Here's our friend Fyodor
Vassilievitch who has succeeded in getting here at last."

"But I'm not a negro, I shall look like a human being when I
wash," said Katavasov in his jesting fashion, and he shook hands
and smiled, his teeth flashing white in his black face.

"Kostya will be delighted. He has gone to his settlement. It's
time he should be home."

"Busy as ever with his farming. It really is a peaceful
backwater," said Katavasov; "while we in town think of nothing
but the Servian war. Well, how does our friend look at it? He's
sure not to think like other people."

"Oh, I don't know, like everybody else," Kitty answered, a little
embarrassed, looking round at Sergey Ivanovitch. "I'll send to
fetch him. Papa's staying with us. He's only just come home
from abroad."

And making arrangements to send for Levin and for the guests to
wash, one in his room and the other in what had been Dolly's, and
giving orders for their luncheon, Kitty ran out onto the balcony,
enjoying the freedom, and rapidity of movement, of which she had
been deprived during the months of her pregnancy.

"It's Sergey Ivanovitch and Katavasov, a professor," she said.

"Oh, that's a bore in this heat," said the prince.

"No, papa, he's very nice, and Kostya's very fond of him," Kitty
said, with a deprecating smile, noticing the irony on her
father's face.

"Oh, I didn't say anything."

"You go to them, darling," said Kitty to her sister, "and
entertain them. They saw Stiva at the station; he was quite
well. And I must run to Mitya. As ill-luck would have it, I
haven't fed him since tea. He's awake now, and sure to be
screaming." And feeling a rush of milk, she hurried to the
nursery.

This was not a mere guess; her connection with the child was
still so close, that she could gauge by the flow of her milk his
need of food, and knew for certain he was hungry.

She knew he was crying before she reached the nursery. And he
was indeed crying. She heard him and hastened. But the faster
she went, the louder h