Chapter 4

           

           “They’vecome!”“Hereheis!”“Whichone?”“Ratheryoung,eh?”“Why,mydearsoul,shelooksmoredeadthanalive!”werethecommentsinthecrowd,whenLevin,meetinghisbrideintheentrance,walkedwithherintothechurch.

           StepanArkadyevitchtoldhiswifethecauseofthedelay,andtheguestswerewhisperingitwithsmilestooneanother.Levinsawnothingandnoone;hedidnottakehiseyesoffhisbride.

           Everyonesaidshehadlostherlooksdreadfullyoflate,andwasnotnearlysoprettyonherweddingdayasusual;butLevindidnotthinkso.Helookedatherhairdoneuphigh,withthelongwhiteveilandwhiteflowersandthehigh,stand-up,scallopedcollar,thatinsuchamaidenlyfashionhidherlongneckatthesidesandonlyshoweditinfront,herstrikinglyslenderfigure,anditseemedtohimthatshelookedbetterthanevernotbecausetheseflowers,thisveil,thisgownfromParisaddedanythingtoherbeauty;butbecause,inspiteoftheelaboratesumptuousnessofherattire,theexpressionofhersweetface,ofhereyes,ofherlipswasstillherowncharacteristicexpressionofguilelesstruthfulness.

           “Iwasbeginningtothinkyoumeanttorunaway,”shesaid,andsmiledtohim.

           “It’ssostupid,whathappenedtome,I’mashamedtospeakofit!”hesaid,reddening,andhewasobligedtoturntoSergeyIvanovitch,whocameuptohim.

           “Thisisaprettystoryofyoursabouttheshirt!”saidSergeyIvanovitch,shakinghisheadandsmiling.

           “Yes,yes!”answeredLevin,withoutanideaofwhattheyweretalkingabout.

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