of her which he had as she sat in her carriage. In the depth of his heart he knew that he was to see her this evening. But in his attempt to preserve all the freedom of his thoughts, he had tried to persuade himself that he did not know it. And now as he learned that she was there, he suddenly felt such timidity and at the same time such terror that he could hardly breathe, and he found it impossible to say what he wanted to say.
"How will she seem? Just as she used to? Suppose Darya Aleksandrovna was right! Why wasn't she right?" he thought.
"Oh! present me to Karenin, I beg of you," he succeeded in stammering, as he entered the drawing-room with the courage of despair and saw her.
She was neither as she had been in old time nor as she had been in the carriage: she was altogether different; she was nervous, timid, modest, and therefore even more charming than ever.
She saw him the moment he entered the drawing-room. She had been watching for him, and she felt so glad and so confused by reason of her gladness that at one moment especially when, after greeting Dolly, he looked at her, she was afraid of bursting into tears. Levin and Dolly both noticed it. She blushed and turned pale and blushed again; she was so agitated that her lips trembled.
Levin approached her, and bowed and silently offered his hand. Had it not been for the slight trembling of her lips and the moisture that suffused her eyes and increased their brilliancy, her smile would have been almost serene as she said: —
"How long it is since we have met!" And at the same time with a sort of desperate resolution put her cold hand into his.
"You have not seen me; but I saw you one day," said Levin, with a smile of radiant happiness. "I saw you when you were going from the railway station to Yergushovo."
"When was it?" asked she, in surprise.
"You were on your way to Yergushovo," said Levin,
