He walked among almost completely occupied tables, looking the guests over. Here and there he saw the most diverse people, old and young, familiar or barely known to him. There was not a single angry or worried face. It seemed they had all left their anxieties and cares in the porter’s lodge together with their hats and were now about to enjoy the material blessings of life at their leisure. Sviyazhsky, and Shcherbatsky, and Nevedovsky, and the old prince, and Vronsky and Sergei Ivanovich were all there.
‘Ah! Why so late?’ said the prince, smiling and giving him his hand over his shoulder. ‘How’s Kitty?’ he added, straightening the napkin that he had tucked behind a waistcoat button.
‘Quite well, thanks. The three of them are dining at home.’
‘Ah, Alines and Nadines. Well, we have no room here. Go to that table and quickly take a seat,’ said the prince and, turning away, he carefully accepted a plate of burbot soup.
‘Levin, over here!’ a good-natured voice called from a bit further off. It was Turovtsyn. He was sitting with a young military man, and next to them two chairs were tipped forward. Levin gladly joined them. He had always liked the good-natured carouser Turovtsyn - his proposal to Kitty was connected with him - but now, after so many strained intellectual conversations, he found Turovtsyn’s good-natured air especially agreeable.
‘These are for you and Oblonsky. He’ll be here any minute.’
The very straight-backed military man with merry, always laughing eyes was the Petersburger Gagin. Turovtsyn introduced them.
‘Oblonsky’s eternally late.’
‘Ah, here he is.’
‘Have you just arrived?’ said Oblonsky, quickly coming up to them. ‘Greetings! Had vodka? Well, come on!’
Levin got up and went with him to the big table set with all kinds of vodka and a great variety of hors d‘oeuvres. It seemed that out of two dozen kinds he might have chosen one to his taste, but Stepan Arkadyich ordered something special and a liveried servant who was standing there immediately brought what he had ordered. They drank a glass each and went back to the table.
Right then, still over the fish soup, Gagin was served champagne and had four glasses poured. Levin did not refuse the wine he was offered and ordered another bottle. He was hungry, and ate and drank with great pleasure, and with still greater pleasure took part in the gay and simple conversation of his companions. Gagin, lowering his voice, told a new Petersburg joke which, though indecent and stupid, was so funny that Levin burst out laughing loudly enough to make his neighbours turn to look at him.
‘It’s the same kind as “That I simply cannot bear!” Do you know that one?’ asked Stepan Arkadyich. ‘Ah, it’s lovely! Bring us another bottle,’ he said to the waiter and began telling the joke.
‘Compliments of Pyotr Ilyich Vinovsky,’ interrupted Stepan Arkadyich’s old footman, bringing over two thin glasses of still-bubbling champagne and addressing Stepan Arkadyich and Levin. Stepan Arkadyich took a glass and, exchanging glances with a balding, red-haired man with a moustache at the other end of the table, nodded to him and smiled.
‘Who’s that?’ asked Levin.
‘You met him once at my house, remember? A nice fellow.’
Levin did as Stepan Arkadyich had done and took his glass.
Stepan Arkadyich’s joke was also very amusing. Levin told a joke of his own, which was enjoyed too. Then the conversation turned to horses, to the day’s races and how dashingly Vronsky’s Satiny had won the first prize. Levin did not notice how the dinner went by.
‘Ah, here they are!’ Stepan Arkadyich said when dinner was already over, turning across the back of his chair and holding out his hand to Vronsky, who was coming towards them with a tall colonel of the guards. Vronsky’s face also shone with the general merry good humour of the club. He merrily leaned on Stepan Arkadyich’s shoulder, whispering something to him, and with the same merry smile gave his hand to Levin.
‘Very glad to see you,’ he said. ‘I looked for you back at the elections, but was told you had already left.’
‘Yes, I left that same day. We’ve just been talking about your horse. Congratulations,’ said Levin. ‘That’s very fast riding.’
‘I believe you also keep horses.’
‘No, my father did. But I remember and know about them.’
‘Where did you dine?’ asked Stepan Arkadyich.
‘We’re at the second table, behind the columns.’
‘He’s been congratulated,’ said the tall colonel. ‘His second imperial prize - if only I had such luck at cards as he has with horses! ... Well, no use wasting precious time. I’m off to the inferno,’ said the colonel, and he walked away from the table.
