`It's a long story. I will tell you some time,' said Levin - but began telling him at once. `Well, to put it shortly, I was convinced that nothing was really done by the Zemstvo councils, or ever could be,' he began, as though someone had just insulted him. `On one side it's a plaything; they play at being a parliament, and I'm neither young enough nor old enough to find amusement in playthings; and on the other side' (he stammered) `it's a means for the coterie of the district to feather their nests. Formerly they did this through wardships and courts of justice, now they do it through the Zemstvo - instead of taking the bribes, they take the unearned salary,' he said, as hotly as though one of those present had opposed his opinion.

`Aha! You're in a new phase again, I see - a conservative,' said Stepan Arkadyevich. `However, we can go into that later.'

`Yes, later. But I had to see you,' said Levin, looking with hatred at Grinevich's hand.

Stepan Arkadyevich gave a scarcely perceptible smile.

`But you used to say you'd never wear European dress again,' he said, gazing on Levin's new suit, obviously cut by a French tailor. `So! I see: a new phase.'

Levin suddenly blushed, not as grown men blush, slightly, without being themselves aware of it, but as boys blush, feeling that they are ridiculous through their shyness, and consequently ashamed of it, and blushing still more, almost to the point of tears. And it was so strange to see this sensible, manly face in such a childish plight, that Oblonsky left off looking at him.

`Oh, where shall we meet? You know I want very much to talk to you,' said Levin.

Oblonsky seemed to ponder.

`I'll tell you what: let's go to Gurin's to lunch, and there we can talk. I am free till three.'

`No,' answered Levin, after an instant's thought, `I have another visit to make.'

`All right, then, let's dine together.'

`Dine together? But I have nothing very particular - just a word or two, a question; then a little chatting.'

`Well, let's have your word or two right now - and we'll talk it over in the course of the dinner.'

`Well, it's this,' said Levin, `however - it's of no importance.'

His face suddenly assumed an expression of anger from the effort he was making to surmount his shyness.

`What are the Shcherbatskys doing? Everything as it used to be?' he said.

Stepan Arkadyevich, who had long known that Levin was in love with his sister-in-law, Kitty, gave a hardly perceptible smile, and his eyes sparkled merrily.

`You've said your word or two, but I can't answer in a few words, because... Excuse me for just a minute....'

A secretary came in, with respectful familiarity and the modest consciousness, characteristic of every secretary, of superiority to his chief in the knowledge of affairs; he went up to Oblonsky with some papers, and began, under pretense of asking a question, to explain some objection. Stepan Arkadyevich, without hearing him out, laid his hand genially on the secretary's sleeve.

`No, you do as I told you,' he said, smoothing his remark with a smile, and with a brief explanation of his view of the matter he moved away the papers, and said: `So do it that way, if you please, Zakhar Nikitich.'