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"Yes, the electric light," said Levin. "Yes. Oh, and where's

Vronsky now?" he asked suddenly, laying down the soap.

"Vronsky?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, checking his yawn; "he's in

Petersburg. He left soon after you did, and he's not once been in

Moscow since. And do you know, Kostya, I'll tell you the truth,"

he went on, leaning his elbow on the table, and propping on his

hand his handsome ruddy face, in which his moist, good-natured,

sleepy eyes shone like stars. "It's your own fault. You took

fright at the sight of your rival. But, as I told you at the

time, I couldn't say which had the better chance. Why didn't you

fight it out? I told you at the time that...." He yawned

inwardly, without opening his mouth.

"Does he know, or doesn't he, that I did make an offer?" Levin

wondered, gazing at him. "Yes, there's something humbugging,

diplomatic in his face," and feeling he was blushing, he looked

Stepan Arkadyevitch straight in the face without speaking.