"Kostia, take me to him; it will be easier for both of us. Take me and leave me with him, please. Can't you see that it is far harder for me to see you and not to see him? Perhaps I shall be useful to him, and to you also. I beg of you, let me go."
She besought him as if the happiness of her life depended on it.
Levin was obliged to let her go with him, but in his haste he completely forgot all about Marya Nikolayevna.
Kitty, walking lightly and showing her husband a courageous and sympathetic face, stepped quietly into the sick man's room and shut the door noiselessly. She went with light, quick steps up to the bed, and sat down so that the sick man would not have to turn his head, and with her cool, soft hand she took the dying man's enormous bony hand, pressed it, and employing that tact peculiar to women, of showing sympathy without wounding, she began to speak to him with a gentle cheerfulness.
"We saw each other at Soden without becoming acquainted; you did not think then that I should ever become your sister."
"You would not have known me, would you?" he said; his face was lighted up with a smile when he saw her come in.
"Oh, yes, indeed. How good it was of you to send for us! Not a day has passed without Kostia speaking of you. He has been very anxious about you."
But the sick man's animation lasted only a short time.
Kitty had not finished speaking before his face again assumed that expression of stern, reproachful envy which the dying feel for the living.
"I am afraid that you are not very comfortable here," said she, avoiding the look which he gave her, and examining the room.
"We must ask for another room, and be nearer to him," she said to her husband.
