# Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part Six/Chapter 28

CHAPTER XXVIII
Levin stood at quite a distance. A noble breathing stertorously near him and another with thick squeaking soles prevented him from hearing distinctly. All he could distinguish was the marshal's gentle voice, then the sharp voice of the sarcastic gentleman, and then the voice of Sviazhsky. He could only distinguish that they were disputing about the meaning of a clause of the law, and the meaning of the words, "nakhodivshayosa podslyedstviem."
The crowd parted to let Sergyeï Ivanovitch get to the table. Sergyeï Ivanovitch, after waiting till the sarcastic gentleman was done speaking, said that it seemed to him it would be a better way to consult the law itself, and he asked the secretary to find for him the text of the law. The law said that in case of divergence of opinion a vote must be taken.
Sergyeï Ivanovitch read the clause, and was just beginning to explain its meaning when he was interrupted by a tall, stout, round-shouldered proprietor, with dyed whiskers, and wearing a tight uniform with a high collar which seemed to prop up the back of his head. This man came up to the table, and, striking it with his fist, shouted at the top of his voice:—
"Put it to the ballot. Vote on it! No discussing! The ballot!"
Then suddenly a number of voices broke out at once, and the tall noble, still pounding with his fist, grew angrier and angrier, and shouted louder and louder. But it was impossible to make out what he was talking about.
He said the same thing as Sergyeï Ivanovitch had proposed; but evidently he hated Koznuishef and his whole party, and this feeling of hatred communicated itself to the whole party, and called forth the opposition of similar, though more decorous, hatred from the other side.
Voices were raised and for a moment everything was ​in confusion, so that the government marshal was obliged to call for order:—
"Put it to vote, put it to vote. That man knows what he is talking about! There'll be bloodshed. .... The emperor's confidence. .... Don't count the marshal, he's not our prikashchik. .... That's not the point! .... Please, put it to vote. .... It's odious!" were the exclamations heard on every side in angry, violent tones. Eyes and faces became still angrier and more violent, with words of irreconcilable hatred. Levin did not understand at all what the trouble was, and was amazed at the passion with which they discussed the question whether they should vote or not vote on the opinion concerning Flerof. He forgot, as Sergyeï Ivanovitch afterward explained to him, the syllogism that for the common weal it was necessary to elect a new government marshal; to defeat the present marshal a majority of the votes was needed; to get a majority of the votes it was necessary to give Flerof the right of voting; to pronounce Flerof qualified it was necessary to have it decided how the clause of the law was to be understood.
"One voice may decide the whole matter, and we must be serious and logical if we wish to act for the public good," said Sergyeï Ivanovitch, in conclusion.
But Levin forgot this, and it was trying for him to see these excellent men, for whom he had such respect, in such a disagreeable and angry frame of mind. In order to avoid this feeling he, without waiting for the end of the election, went into the smaller hall, where there was no one except the servants connected with the buffet.
Seeing the servants busily engaged in polishing the service and putting away the plates and glasses, seeing their contented lively faces. Levin felt an unexpected feeling of relief, just as if he had come out from an ill-smelling room into pure air. He began to walk back and forth, watching the servants. It pleased him greatly to watch one of the servants, an old man with gray side-whiskers, expressing his scorn for the younger ones, who stood in awe of him, teaching them the best way of folding napkins. Levin was just about to engage the old ser​vant in conversation, when the Secretary of the Assembly, a little old man, who made a specialty of knowing all the nobles of the province by their full names, came to call him.
"Excuse me, Konstantin Dmitritch," said he; "your brother is asking for you. The opinion is to be voted on."
Levin went into the hall, took a little white ball, and, following close behind Sergyeï Ivanovitch, he went to the table where Sviazhsky was standing with an important and ironical air, running his beard through his hand and occasionally putting it to his nose. Sergyeï Ivanovitch put his ball into the ballot-box, and made room for Levin; but Levin, having entirely forgotten what the voting was for, was disconcerted, and asked his brother:—
"Where shall I put it?"
He spoke in a low tone, and as there was talking near him, he hoped that his question would not be overheard; but the speakers stopped, and his unfortunate question was heard. Sergyeï Ivanovitch frowned, and replied sternly:—
"This is a matter entirely of conviction."
A number of the bystanders smiled. Much embarrassed. Levin quickly cast his vote, and as he happened to hold it in his right hand, he threw it into the right-hand receptacle. Only after he had deposited it did he remember that he ought to have put it in his left hand, and he did so, but it was already too late; and growing still more confused, he hastily made his way to the very rear rank.
"One hundred and twenty-six in the affirmative; ninety-eight in the negative," announced the secretary, who could not pronounce the letter r. Then a laugh went round; a button and two nuts were found in the ballot-box. The questionable noble was admitted and the new party was victorious.
But the old party did not even yet acknowledge itself defeated. Levin heard them request Snetkof to stand as their candidate, and he saw a throng of nobles surrounding the government marshal, who was making an address. Levin went nearer. In reply to the nobles, ​Snetkof was speaking of the confidence which the nobility had reposed in him, of their love for him which he did not deserve, because all his service had consisted in his devotion to the nobility, whom he had served for twenty years. Several times he repeated the words, "I have served to the best of my ability, I appreciate your confidence and thank you for it," and then, suddenly pausing because of the tears which choked him, he hurried from the room. His tears arose either from the injustice that had been done him, or from his love for the nobles, or possibly from the unpleasant position in which he was placed, finding himself surrounded by enemies; but his grief was contagious; the majority of the nobles were touched, and Levin felt sorry for him.
At the door the government marshal stumbled against Levin.
"Excuse me,—I beg your pardon," he said, as to a stranger; then, recognizing him, he smiled a melancholy smile. It seemed to Levin that he wanted to say something but was prevented by his emotion. The expression of his face and his whole figure in his uniform, with his crosses, and white pantaloons ornamented with galloon, as he hastened out, reminded Levin of some hunted animal which sees that it has little chance to escape. This expression in the government marshal's face went to Levin's heart, for only the day before he had been to see him about the guardianship affair, and had seen in the whole establishment the dignity of a good-hearted domestic gentleman: the house large, with ancestral furniture; unstylish, dirty, but dignified, old servants who had evidently been former serfs and had not changed their master; the wife, a tall, benevolent lady in her lace cap and Turkish shawl, caressing her lovely granddaughter; the youngest son, a boy in the sixth class of the gymnasium, who had come in to wish his father good morning and to kiss his big hand; the imposing but affectionate greetings and gestures of the master of the house: all this had awakened in Levin involuntary respect and sympathy even then, and now he felt touched and sorry for the old man, and wanted to say something pleasant to him.
​"Perhaps you will be our marshal again."
"I doubt it," said Snetkof, with his scared look. "I am tired, getting old. There are younger and better men than I. Must let them take my place." And he disappeared by a side door.
Now the most solemn moment had arrived. It was necessary to proceed immediately to the election itself. The leaders of both parties were counting on their fingers the white and black balls. The controversy regarding Flerof gave the new party not only one more vote, but also gained time, so that they could send for three nobles, whom the trickery of the old party was going to deprive of the possibility of taking part in the election. Two nobles who had a weakness for wine had been made drunk by Snetkof's henchmen, and a third had been seduced by the promise of a uniform.
Having learned about this, the new party had made haste during the contest concerning Flerof to send an izvoshchik for the noble and to provide him with a uniform, and to bring one of the two drunken nobles to the hall.
"I brought one of them, I had to douse him with water," said the proprietor who had gone in search of him, addressing Sviazhsky. "He'll do."
"He's not very drunk, is he; can't he stand?" asked Sviazhsky, shaking his head. "Yes, he's a young man. Only don't let them get him to drinking here. .... I told the caterer not to give him any wine under any consideration."