this.

"She rushes about from place to place with him," said the prince,
smiling. "I advised her to try putting him in the ice cellar."

"She meant to come to the bee house. She thought you would be
there. We are going there," said Dolly.

"Well, and what are you doing?" said Sergey Ivanovitch, falling
back from the rest and walking beside him.

"Oh, nothing special. Busy as usual with the land," answered
Levin. "Well, and what about you? Come for long? We have been
expecting you for such a long time."

"Only for a fortnight. I've a great deal to do in Moscow."

At these words the brothers' eyes met, and Levin, in spite of the
desire he always had, stronger than ever just now, to be on
affectionate and still more open terms with his brother, felt an
awkwardness in looking at him. He dropped his eyes and did not
know what to say.

Casting over the subjects of conversation that would be pleasant
to Sergey Ivanovitch, and would keep him off the subject of the
Servian war and the Slavonic question, at which he had hinted by
the allusion to what he had to do in Moscow, Levin began to talk
of Sergey Ivanovitch's book.

"Well, have there been reviews of your book?" he asked.

Sergey Ivanovitch smiled at the intentional character of the
question.

"No one is interested in that now, and I less than anyone," he
said. "Just look, Darya Alexandrovna, we shall have a shower,"
he added, pointing with a sunshade at the white rain clouds that
showed above the aspen tree-tops.

And these words were enough to re-establish again between the
brothers that tone--hardly hostile, but chilly--which Levin had
been so longing to avoid.

Levin went up to Katavasov.

"It was jolly of you to make up your mind to come," he said to
him.

"I've been meaning to a long while. Now we shall have some
discussion, we'll see to that. Have you been reading Spencer?"

"No, I've not finished reading him," said Levin. "But I don't
need him now."

"How's that? that's interesting. Why so?"

"I mean that I'm fully convinced that the solution of the
problems that interest me I shall never find in him and his like.
Now..."

But Katavasov's serene and good-humored expression suddenly
struck him, and he felt such tenderness for his own happy mood,
which he was unmistakably disturbing by this conversation, that
he remembered his resolution and stopped short.

"But we'll talk later on," he added. "If we're going to the
bee hous