“This is all I can do,” she said with a smile to Anna, who came in to her in a third dress, again of extreme simplicity.

“Yes, we are too formal here,” she said, as it were apologizing for her magnificence.  “Alexey is delighted at your visit, as he rarely is at anything.  He has completely lost his heart to you,” she added.  “You’re not tired?”

There was no time for talking about anything before dinner.  Going into the drawing room they found Princess Varvara already there, and the gentlemen of the party in black frock-coats.  The architect wore a swallow-tail coat.  Vronsky presented the doctor and the steward to his guest.  The architect he had already introduced to her at the hospital.

A stout butler, resplendent with a smoothly shaven round chin and a starched white cravat, announced that dinner was ready, and the ladies got up.  Vronsky asked Sviazhsky to take in Anna Arkadyevna, and himself offered his arm to Dolly.  Veslovsky was before Tushkevitch in offering his arm to Princess Varvara, so that Tushkevitch with the steward and the doctor walked in alone.

The dinner, the dining room, the service, the waiting at table, the wine, and the food, were not simply in keeping with the general tone of modern luxury throughout all the house, but seemed even more sumptuous and modern.  Darya Alexandrovna watched this luxury which was novel to her, and as a good housekeeper used to managing a household—­although she never dreamed of adapting anything she saw to her own household, as it was all in a style of luxury far above her own manner of living—­she could not help scrutinizing every detail, and wondering how and by whom it was all done.  Vassenka Veslovsky, her husband, and even Sviazhsky, and many other people she knew, would never have considered this question, and would have readily believed what every well-bred host tries to make his guests feel, that is, that all that is well-ordered in his house has cost him, the host, no trouble whatever, but comes of itself.  Darya Alexandrovna was well aware that even porridge for the children’s breakfast does not come of itself, and that therefore, where so complicated and magnificent a style of luxury was maintained, someone must give earnest attention to its organization.  And from the glance with which Alexey Kirillovitch scanned the table, from the way he nodded to the butler, and offered Darya Alexandrovna her choice between cold soup and hot soup, she saw that it was all organized and maintained by the care of the master of the house himself.  It was evident that it all rested no more upon Anna than upon Veslovsky.  She, Sviazhsky, the princess, and Veslovsky, were equally guests, with light hearts enjoying what had been arranged for them.