"What happened to me was so absurd that I am ashamed to tell you about it," he replied, reddening, and he was compelled to turn to Sergyeï Ivanovitch, who came up at that moment.
"The tale of the shirt is a good one," said Sergyeï Ivanovitch, throwing back his head with a laugh.
"Yes, yes," replied Levin, without understanding a word which had been said.
"Well, Kostia, now is the time to make a serious decision," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, pretending to look greatly scared. "The question is a grave one, and you must appreciate its full importance. I have been asked whether the candles shall be new ones, or those that have been partly burned; the difference is ten rubles," he added, pursing his lips in a smile. "I have decided about it, but I am afraid that you will not approve of it."
Levin knew that there was some joke about it, but he could not smile.
"What will you decide on? new ones, or old ones?—that is the question."
"Yes, yes; new ones."
"Well, I am very glad. The question is settled," said Stepan Arkadyevitch. "Of how little importance a man is at such a time as this!" he murmured to Chirikof, while Levin drew near to his bride, after looking at her in a bewildered way.
"Notice, Kitty, who first sets foot on the carpet!" said the Countess Nordstone, stepping up to her.—"You look your best," she added, addressing Levin.
"Are you frightened?" asked Marya Dmitrievna, an old aunt.
"You aren't cold, are you? You look pale. Bend forward a moment," said Madame Lvova, raising her beautiful round arms to repair some disarrangement of her sister's flowers.
Dolly came up, and tried to say something; but she could not speak, and burst into tears and laughed unnaturally.
Kitty looked at those around her as absent-mindedly as Levin.
