"Not at all," said Levin, sadly, as they were approaching the house.
A small cart, tightly bound with iron and leather, drawn by a fat horse, tightly harnessed with wide straps, was standing at the entrance; in the cart sat a red-faced overseer tightly belted, who served Rabinin as a coachman. Rabinin himself was already in the house, and met the two friends in the vestibule. Rabinin was a man of middle age, tall and thin, wearing a mustache, but his prominent chin was well shaven. His eyes were protuberant and muddy. He was clad in a dark blue coat with buttons set low behind, and he wore high boots, wrinkled around the ankles and smooth over the calves, and over his boots huge galoshes. Wiping his face with his handkerchief, and wrapping his overcoat closely around him, though without that it fitted him well enough, he came out with a smile, to meet the gentlemen as they entered. He gave one hand to Stepan Arkadyevitch as if he wanted to grasp something.
"Ah! Here you are," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, shaking hands. "Very good."
"I should not have ventured to disobey your excellency's orders, though the roads are very bad. Positively, I came all the way on foot, but I got here on time. A greeting to you, Konstantin Dmitritch," said he, turning to Levin, intending to seize his hand also; but Levin, frowning, affected not to notice the motion, and began to take out the snipe.
"You have been enjoying a hunt? What kind of a bird is that?" asked Rabinin, looking at the snipe disdainfully. "I suppose it has a peculiar flavor." And he shook his head disapprovingly, as if he felt doubtful whether the game were worth the candle.
"Would you like to go into the library?" said Levin, darkly scowling, addressing Stepan Arkadyevitch in French. "Go to the library, and discuss your business there."
"Just as you please," replied the merchant, in a tone of disdainful superiority, apparently wishing it to be
