"Ah! why are you late?" the prince said smiling, and giving him
his hand over his own shoulder. "How's Kitty?" he added,
smoothing out the napkin he had tucked in at his waistcoat
"All right; they are dining at home, all the three of them."
"Ah, 'Aline-Nadine,' to be sure! There's no room with us. Go to
that table, and make haste and take a seat," said the prince, and
turning away he carefully took a plate of eel soup.
"Levin, this way!" a good-natured voice shouted a little farther
on. It was Turovtsin. He was sitting with a young officer, and
beside them were two chairs turned upside down. Levin gladly
went up to them. He had always liked the good-hearted rake,
Turovtsin--he was associated in his mind with memories of his
courtship--and at that moment, after the strain of intellectual
conversation, the sight of Turovtsin's good-natured face was
"For you and Oblonsky. He'll be here directly."
The young man, holding himself very erect, with eyes forever
twinkling with enjoyment, was an officer from Petersburg, Gagin.
Turovtsin introduced them.
"Oblonsky's always late."
"Ah, here he is!"
"Have you only just come?" said Oblonsky, coming quickly towards
them. "Good day. Had some vodka? Well, come along then."
Levin got up and went with him to the big table spread with
spirits and appetizers of the most various kinds. One would have
thought that out of two dozen delicacies one might find something
to one's taste, but Stepan Arkadyevitch asked for something
special, and one of the liveried waiters standing by immediately
brought what was required. They drank a wine glassful and
returned to their table.