standing at the opposite end of the pond engaged in conversation with a lady; and nothing either in her toilet or in her position was remarkable, but for Levin she stood out from the rest like a rose-bush among nettles. Everything was made radiant by her. She was the smile that lightened the whole place.
"Do I dare to go and meet her on the ice?" he asked himself. The place where she was seemed like an unapproachable sanctuary, and for a moment he almost turned to go away again, so full of awe it was. He had to master himself by a supreme effort to think that, as she was surrounded by people of every sort, he had as much right as the rest to go on there and skate. So he went down on the ice, not letting himself look long at her, as if she were the sun; but he saw her, as he saw the sun, even though he did not look at her.
On this day and at this hour, the ice formed a common meeting-ground for people of one clique, all of whom were well acquainted. There were also masters in the art of skating, who came to show off their skill; others were learning to skate by holding on chairs, and making awkward and distressing gestures; there were young lads and old men, who skated as a gymnastic exercise : all seemed to Levin to be the happy children of fortune because they were near Kitty.
And all these skaters, with apparently perfect unconcern, glided around her, came close to her, even spoke to her, and with absolute indifference to her enjoyed themselves, making the most of the good skating and splendid weather.
Nikolaï Shcherbatsky, Kitty's cousin, in short jacket and knickerbockers, was seated on a bench with his skates on, and seeing Levin, he cried:—
"Ah! the best skater in Russia! Have you been here long? The ice is first-rate! Put on your skates quick!"
"I have not my skates with me," replied Levin, surprised at this freedom and audacity in her presence, and
