not for what is coming," said he, with a significant glance at her figure, "I should devote all my powers to this work; but now I can't, and my conscience pricks me. I do it like a task, it is all pretense ...."
"Would you like to exchange with Sergyeï Ivanovitch," asked Kitty; "would you like to work for nothing but your duty and the general welfare of mankind?"
"Of course not. The fact is, I am so happy that I can't reason clearly. .... So you think the proposal will take place to-day, do you?" he asked, after a moment's silence.
"I think so, and then I think not. But I wish with all my heart it might. Here, wait!" She stooped down and plucked a daisy growing by the roadside. "Now, count; he'll propose, he'll not propose," she said, giving him the flower.
"He'll propose, he'll not propose," repeated Levin, picking off the narrow, white, trembling petals.
"No, no!" cried Kitty, stopping him and seizing his arm, as she excitedly watched his fingers. "You pulled off two!"
"Well, that little one doesn't count," said Levin, tearing off a short undeveloped petal. "But here comes the linyeïka to meet us."
"Kitty, you haven't fatigued yourself?" cried the princess.
"Not the least in the world, mamma."
"Well, get in, if the horses are quiet and will walk."
But there was no need of riding; the place was so near they continued walking.
CHAPTER IV
Varenka, in her white kerchief setting off her dark locks, and surrounded by children whom she was good-naturedly and gayly entertaining, and evidently excited by the possibility of a declaration from a man who was agreeable to her, was very fascinating. Sergyeï Ivanovitch walked by her side, and could not refrain from
