“Will it be soon?  How do you feel?” he whispered, taking her two hands.

“I have so often thought so, that now I don’t think about it or know anything about it.”

“And you’re not frightened?”

She smiled contemptuously.

“Not the least little bit,” she said.

“Well, if anything happens, I shall be at Katavasov’s.”

“No, nothing will happen, and don’t think about it.  I’m going for a walk on the boulevard with papa.  We’re going to see Dolly.  I shall expect you before dinner.  Oh, yes!  Do you know that Dolly’s position is becoming utterly impossible?  She’s in debt all round; she hasn’t a penny.  We were talking yesterday with mamma and Arseny” (this was her sister’s husband Lvov), “and we determined to send you with him to talk to Stiva.  It’s really unbearable.  One can’t speak to papa about it....  But if you and he...”

“Why, what can we do?” said Levin.

“You’ll be at Arseny’s, anyway; talk to him, he will tell what we decided.”

“Oh, I agree to everything Arseny thinks beforehand.  I’ll go and see him.  By the way, if I do go to the concert, I’ll go with Natalia.  Well, good-bye.”

On the steps Levin was stopped by his old servant Kouzma, who had been with him before his marriage, and now looked after their household in town.

“Beauty” (that was the left shaft-horse brought up from the country) “has been badly shod and is quite lame,” he said.  “What does your honor wish to be done?”

During the first part of their stay in Moscow, Levin had used his own horses brought up from the country.  He had tried to arrange this part of their expenses in the best and cheapest way possible; but it appeared that their own horses came dearer than hired horses, and they still hired too.

“Send for the veterinary, there may be a bruise.”

“And for Katerina Alexandrovna?” asked Kouzma.

Levin was not by now struck as he had been at first by the fact that to get from one end of Moscow to the other he had to have two powerful horses put into a heavy carriage, to take the carriage three miles through the snowy slush and to keep it standing there four hours, paying five roubles every time.

Now it seemed quite natural.

“Hire a pair for our carriage from the jobmaster,” said he.

“Yes, sir.”

And so, simply and easily, thanks to the facilities of town life, Levin settled a question which, in the country, would have called for so much personal trouble and exertion, and going out onto the steps, he called a sledge, sat down, and drove to Nikitsky.  On the way he thought no more of money, but mused on the introduction that awaited him to the Petersburg savant, a writer on sociology, and what he would say to him about his book.