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of bread - will just eat it and walk away.' Though Levin tried to control himself, he was gloomy and silent. He wanted to put one question to Stepan Arkadyevich, but he could not bring himself to the point, and could not find the words or the moment in which to put it. Stepan Arkadyevich had gone down to his room, undressed, again washed, and, attired in a nightshirt with goffered frills, had got into bed, but Levin still lingered in his room, talking of various trifling matters, and not daring to ask what he wanted to know. `How wonderfully they make the soap,' he said gazing at a piece of soap he was unwrapping, which Agathya Mikhailovna had placed in readiness for the guest, but a brand which Oblonsky did not use. `Just look - why,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], it's a work of art.' `Yes,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], everything's brought to such a pitch of perfection nowadays,' said Stepan Arkadyevich, with a moist and blissful yawn. `The theater, for instance, and the entertainments... A-a-a!' he yawned. `The electric light everywhere... A-a-a!' `Yes, the electric light,' said Levin. `Yes. Oh, and where's Vronsky now?' he asked suddenly, laying down the soap. `Vronsky?' said Stepan Arkadyevich, checking his yawn; `he's in Peterburg. He left soon after you did, and hasn't been once in Moscow since. And, do you know, Kostia, I'll tell you the truth,' he went on,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], leaning his elbow on the table, and, with his hand,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], propping up his handsome ruddy face, in which his humid, good-natured, sleepy eyes shone like stars. `It's your own fault
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