The first person he saw was Mademoiselle Linon.  She walked across the room, and her ringlets and her face were beaming.  He had only just spoken to her, when suddenly he heard the rustle of a skirt at the door, and Mademoiselle Linon vanished from Levin’s eyes, and a joyful terror came over him at the nearness of his happiness.  Mademoiselle Linon was in great haste, and leaving him, went out at the other door.  Directly she had gone out, swift, swift light steps sounded on the parquet, and his bliss, his life, himself—­what was best in himself, what he had so long sought and longed for—­was quickly, so quickly approaching him.  She did not walk, but seemed, by some unseen force, to float to him.  He saw nothing but her clear, truthful eyes, frightened by the same bliss of love that flooded his heart.  Those eyes were shining nearer and nearer, blinding him with their light of love.  She stopped still close to him, touching him.  Her hands rose and dropped onto his shoulders.

She had done all she could—­she had run up to him and given herself up entirely, shy and happy.  He put his arms round her and pressed his lips to her mouth that sought his kiss.

She too had not slept all night, and had been expecting him all the morning.

Her mother and father had consented without demur, and were happy in her happiness.  She had been waiting for him.  She wanted to be the first to tell him her happiness and his.  She had got ready to see him alone, and had been delighted at the idea, and had been shy and ashamed, and did not know herself what she was doing.  She had heard his steps and voice, and had waited at the door for Mademoiselle Linon to go.  Mademoiselle Linon had gone away.  Without thinking, without asking herself how and what, she had gone up to him, and did as she was doing.

“Let us go to mamma!” she said, taking him by the hand.  For a long while he could say nothing, not so much because he was afraid of desecrating the loftiness of his emotion by a word, as that every time he tried to say something, instead of words he felt that tears of happiness were welling up.  He took her hand and kissed it.

“Can it be true?” he said at last in a choked voice.  “I can’t believe you love me, dear!”

She smiled at that “dear,” and at the timidity with which he glanced at her.

“Yes!” she said significantly, deliberately.  “I am so happy!”

Not letting go his hands, she went into the drawing room.  The princess, seeing them, breathed quickly, and immediately began to cry and then immediately began to laugh, and with a vigorous step Levin had not expected, ran up to him, and hugging his head, kissed him, wetting his cheeks with her tears.

“So it is all settled!  I am glad.  Love her.  I am glad....  Kitty!”

“You’ve not been long settling things,” said the old prince, trying to seem unmoved; but Levin noticed that his eyes were wet when he turned to him.