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She was a thin, sallow, sickly, and nervous woman, with brilliant

black eyes. She was fond of Kitty, and her affection for her

showed itself, as the affection of married women for girls always

does, in the desire to make a match for Kitty after her own ideal

of married happiness; she wanted her to marry Vronsky. Levin she

had often met at the Shtcherbatskys' early in the winter, and she

had always disliked him. Her invariable and favorite pursuit,

when they met, consisted in making fun of him.

"I do like it when he looks down at me from the height of his

grandeur, or breaks off his learned conversation with me because

I'm a fool, or is condescending to me. I like that so; to see him

condescending! I am so glad he can't bear me," she used to say of

him.

She was right, for Levin actually could not bear her, and

despised her for what she was proud of and regarded as a fine

characteristic-her nervousness, her delicate contempt and

indifference for everything coarse and earthly.