"Somebody ought to arrange her wreath," replied the latter, without listening.
"What a pity that she has grown so ugly!" said the Countess Nordstone to Madame Lvova. "After all, he isn't worth her little finger, is he?"
"I don't agree with you; I am very much pleased with him, and not only because he is going to be my beau-frère," replied Madame Lvova. "How well he appears! It is so difficult to appear well at such a time and not to be absurd. He is neither ridiculous nor stiff; one feels that he is touched."
"Did you expect this marriage?"
"Almost. He has always been in love with her."
"Well, we shall see which will be the first to step on the carpet. I have advised Kitty to look out for that."
"That makes no difference," replied Madame Lvova; "in our family we are all submissive wives."
"But I have taken pains to keep mine under the thumb.—How is it with you, Dolly?"
Dolly was standing near them, and heard them, but she did not reply. She was affected; tears filled her eyes, and she could not have uttered a word without crying. She was glad for Kitty and Levin; she was thinking of her own wedding; and as she glanced at the brilliant Stepan Arkadyevitch, she forgot the real state of things, and only remembered his first, innocent love. She was thinking, too, of other women,—her relatives and acquaintances,—whom she remembered at this important and solemn hour of their lives; how they, like Kitty, stood under the crown; how they renounced the past with joy, and began a mysterious future, with hope and fear in their hearts. Among the number she recalled her dear Anna, the details of whose approaching divorce she had just heard; she had seen her enveloped in a white veil, as pure as Kitty, with her wreath of orange-blossoms. And now?" It is terribly strange!" she whispered.
The sisters and friends were not the only ones to follow with interest the minutest details of the ceremony; there were women among the strangers looking
