"Well, how is he? how is he?"
"Very bad. He can't get up. He has kept expecting you. He....
Are you...with your wife?"
Levin did not for the first moment understand what it was
confused her, but she immediately enlightened him.
"I'll go away. I'll go down to the kitchen," she brought out.
"Nikolay Dmitrievitch will be delighted. He heard about it, and
knows your lady, and remembers her abroad."
Levin realized that she meant his wife, and did not know what
answer to make.
"Come along, come along to him!" he said.
But as soon as he moved, the door of his room opened and Kitty
peeped out. Levin crimsoned both from shame and anger with his
wife, who had put herself and him in such a difficult position;
but Marya Nikolaevna crimsoned still more. She positively shrank
together and flushed to the point of tears, and clutching the
ends of her apron in both hands, twisted them in her red fingers
without knowing what to say and what to do.
For the first instant Levin saw an expression of eager curiosity
in the eyes with which Kitty looked at this awful woman, so
incomprehensible to her; but it lasted only a single instant.
"Well! how is he?" she turned to her husband and then to her.
"But one can't go on talking in the passage like this!" Levin
said, looking angrily at a gentleman who walked jauntily at that
instant across the corridor, as though about his affairs.
"Well then, come in," said Kitty, turning to Marya Nikolaevna,
who had recovered herself, but noticing her husband's face of
dismay, "or go on; go, and then come for me," she said, and went
back into the room.