here are people, on the
other hand, who desire above all to find in that lucky rival the
qualities by which he has outstripped them, and seek with a
throbbing ache at heart only what is good. Levin belonged to the
second class. But he had no difficulty in finding what was good
and attractive in Vronsky. It was apparent at the first glance.
Vronsky was a squarely built, dark man, not very tall, with a
good-humored, handsome, and exceedingly calm and resolute face.
Everything about his face and figure, from his short-cropped
black hair and freshly shaven chin down to his loosely fitting,
brand-new uniform, was simple and at the same time elegant.
Making way for the lady who had come in, Vronsky went up to the
princess and then to Kitty.

As he approached her, his beautiful eyes shone with a specially
tender light, and with a faint, happy, and modestly triumphant
smile (so it seemed to Levin), bowing carefully and respectfully
over her, he held out his small broad hand to her.

Greeting and saying a few words to everyone, he sat down without
once glancing at Levin, who had never taken his eyes off him.

"Let me introduce you," said the princess, indicating Levin.
"Konstantin Dmitrievitch Levin, Count Alexey Kirillovitch
Vronsky."

Vronsky got up and, looking cordially at Levin, shook hands with
him.

"I believe I was to have dined with you this winter," he said,
smiling his simple and open smile; "but you had unexpectedly left
for the country."

"Konstantin Dmitrievitch despises and hates town and us
townspeople," said Countess Nordston.

"My words must make a deep impression on you, since you remember
them so well," said Levin, and, suddenly conscious that he had
said just the same thing before, he reddened.

Vronsky looked at Levin and Countess Nordston, and smiled.

"Are you always in the country?" he inquired. "I should think it
must be dull in the winter."

"It's not dull if one has work to do; besides, one's not dull by
oneself," Levin replied abruptly.

"I am fond of the country," said Vronsky, noticing, and affecting
not to notice, Levin's tone.

"But I hope, count, you would not consent to live in the country
always," said Countess Nordston.

"I don't know; I have never tried for long. I experienced a queer
feeling once," he went on. "I never longed so for the country,
Russian country, with bast shoes and peasants, as when I was
spending a winter with my mother in Nice. Nice itself is du