It was Turovtsuin. He was sitting with a young officer, and near him were two chairs tilted up. Levin, with joy, went to join him. He always liked the good-hearted, prodigal Turovtsuin; his reconciliation with Kitty was connected with him, and now, especially, after all his wearisome intellectual conversations, the sight of his jolly face was delightful.
"These places were for you and Oblonsky. He will be here directly," said Turovtsuin; and then he introduced Levin to the young officer, who held himself very straight and had bright, laughing eyes,—Gagin, from Petersburg.
"Oblonsky is always late."
"Ah! here he is."
"You have only just come, have n't you?" asked Oblonsky of Levin, hurrying up to him. "Your health. Will you take vodka? Come on, then."
Levin got up, and went with him to a large table, on which all kinds of liquors and a most select zakuska were set out. It would seem as if the two dozen different kinds of drinks might have offered a choice, but Stepan Arkadyevitch thought good to ask for a special concoction, which a servant in livery hastened to get for him. They drank it from small glasses, and then returned to their places.
At the very first, even while they were eating their ukha, Gagin had champagne served, and he ordered the four glasses filled. Levin did not refuse the wine when it was offered to him, and he in turn ordered a bottle.
He was hungry, and ate and drank with great satisfaction; and with still greater satisfaction took part in the gay and lively conversation of his neighbors. Gagin, lowering his voice, told a new Petersburg anecdote; and, though it was indecorous and ridiculous, it was so funny that Levin laughed uproariously, till those around him looked at him in surprise.
"That is in the same kind as 'Alas, I cannot endure it,'" quoted Stepan Arkadyevitch. "Do you remember? Akh! it was lovely! Bring us another bottle," said he to the lackey, and he began to tell an anecdote.
