"Kitty writes to me that there’s nothing she longs for so much as quiet and solitude," Dolly said after the silence that had followed. "And how is she—better?" Levin asked in agitation. "Thank God, she’s quite well again. I never believed her lungs were affected." "Oh, I’m very glad!" said Levin, and Dolly fancied she saw something touching, helpless, in his face as he said this and looked silently into her face. "Let me ask you, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," said Darya Alexandrovna, smiling her kindly and rather mocking smile, "why is it you are angry with Kitty?" "I? I’m not angry with her," said Levin. "Yes, you are angry. Why was it you did not come to see us nor them when you were in Moscow?" "Darya Alexandrovna," he said, blushing up to the roots of his hair, "I wonder really that with your kind heart you don’t feel this. How it is you feel no pity for me, if nothing else, when...
I did not stay long at St. Petersburg, but returned to Irkútsk the same winter. My brother was going to join me there in a few months: he was accepted as an officer of the Irkútsk Cossacks. Traveling across Siberia in the winter is supposed to be a terrible experience; but, all things considered, it is on the whole more comfortable than at any other season of the year. The snow-covered roads are excellent, and although the cold is intense, one can stand it well enough. Lying full length in the sledge, as every one does in Siberia, wrapped in fur blankets, fur inside and fur outside, one does not suffer much from the cold, even when the temperature is forty or sixty degrees below zero, Fahrenheit. Traveling in courier fashion, that is, rapidly changing horses at each station and stopping only once a day for one hour to take a meal, - I reached Irkútsk nineteen days after leaving St. Petersburg. Two hundred miles a day is the normal speed in suc...