PART 6
Chapter 28
(continued)
"A ballot! A ballot! Every nobleman sees it! We shed our blood
for our country!... The confidence of the monarch.... No
checking the accounts of the marshal; he's not a cashier.... But
that's not the point.... Votes, please! Beastly!..." shouted
furious and violent voices on all sides. Looks and faces were
even more violent and furious than their words. They expressed
the most implacable hatred. Levin did not in the least
understand what was the matter, and he marveled at the passion
with which it was disputed whether or not the decision about
Flerov should be put to the vote. He forgot, as Sergey
Ivanovitch explained to him afterwards, this syllogism: that it
was necessary for the public good to get rid of the marshal of
the province; that to get rid of the marshal it was necessary to
have a majority of votes; that to get a majority of votes it was
necessary to secure Flerov's right to vote; that to secure the
recognition of Flerov's right to vote they must decide on the
interpretation to be put on the act.
"And one vote may decide the whole question and one must be
serious and consecutive, if one wants to be of use in public
life," concluded Sergey Ivanovitch. But Levin forgot all that,
and it was painful to him to see all these excellent persons, for
whom he had a respect, in such an unpleasant and vicious state of
excitement. To escape from this painful feeling he went away
into the other room where there was nobody except the waiters at
the refreshment bar. Seeing the waiters busy over washing up the
crockery and setting in order their plates and wine glasses,
seeing their calm and cheerful faces, Levin felt an unexpected
sense of relief as though he had come out of a stuffy room into
the fresh air. He began walking up and down, looking with
pleasure at the waiters. He particularly liked the way one
gray-whiskered waiter, who showed his scorn for the other younger
ones and was jeered at by them, was teaching them how to fold up
napkins properly. Levin was just about to enter into
conversation with the old waiter, when the secretary of the court
of wardship, a little old man whose specialty it was to know all
the noblemen of the province by name and patronymic, drew him
away.
"Please come, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," he said, "your brother's
looking for you. They are voting on the legal point."
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