# Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part Three/Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX
Darya Aleksandrovna, with a kerchief on her head, and surrounded by all her flock of bathers with wet hair, was just drawing near the house when the coachman called out, "Here comes some barin,—Pokrovsky, it looks like."
Darya Aleksandrovna looked out, and, to her great joy, saw that it was indeed Levin's well-known form in gray hat and gray overcoat. She was always glad to see him, but now she was particularly delighted, because he saw her in all her glory. No one could appreciate her splendor better than Levin.
When he caught sight of her, it seemed to him that he saw one of his visions of family life.
"You are like a brooding hen, Darya Aleksandrovna."
"Oh, how glad I am!" said she, offering him her hand.
"Glad! But you did not let me know. My brother is staying with me; I had a little note from Stiva, telling me you were here."
"From Stiva?" repeated Dolly, astonished.
"Yes. He wrote me that you had come into the country, and thought that you would allow me to be of some use to you," said Levin; and, even while speaking, he became confused, and breaking off suddenly, walked in silence by the lineïka, pulling off and biting linden twigs as he went. It had occurred to him that Darya Aleksandrovna would doubtless find it painful to have a neighbor offer her the assistance which her husband should have given. In fact, Darya Aleksandrovna was displeased at the way in which Stepan Arkadyevitch had thrust his domestic difficulties upon a stranger. She immediately perceived that Levin felt this, and she felt grateful to him for his tact and delicacy.
"Of course, I understood," said Levin, "that this only meant that you would be glad to see me; and I was glad. Of course, I imagine that you, a city house-keeper, find it uncivilized here; and, if I can be of the least use to you, I am wholly at your service."
"Oh, no!" said Dolly. "At first it was rather hard, ​but now everything has been beautifully arranged. I owe it all to my old nurse," she added, indicating Matriona Filimonovna, who, perceiving that they were speaking of her, gave Levin a pleasant, friendly smile. She knew him, and knew that he would make a splendid husband for the young lady, and she wished that it might be so.
"Will you get in? We will squeeze up a little," said she.
"No, I will walk.—Children, which of you will run with me to get ahead of the horses?"
The children were very slightly acquainted with Levin, and did not remember where they had seen him; but they had none of that strange feeling of timidity and aversion which children are so often blamed for showing toward grown-up persons who are not sincere. Pretense in any person may deceive the shrewdest and most experienced of men, but a child of very limited intelligence detects it and is repelled by it, though it be most carefully hidden.
Whatever faults Levin had, he could not be accused of lack of sincerity, and consequently the children showed him the same good-will that they had seen on their mother's face. The two eldest instantly accepted his invitation, and ran with him as they would have gone with their nurse, or Miss Hull, or their mother. Lili also wanted to go with him, and her mother intrusted her to him; so he set her on his shoulder and began to run with her.
"Don't be frightened, don't be frightened, Darya Aleksandrovna," he said, laughing gayly. "I won't hurt her or let her fall."
And when she saw his strong, agile, and, at the same time, prudent and careful movements, the mother felt reassured, and smiled as she watched him, with pleasure and approval.
There in the country, with the children and with Darya Aleksandrovna, whom he liked, Levin entered into that boylike, happy frame of mind which was not unusual with him, and which Darya Aleksandrovna ​especially admired in him. He played with the children, and taught them gymnastic exercises; he jested with Miss Hull in his broken English; and he told Darya Aleksandrovna of his undertakings in the country.
After dinner, Darya Aleksandrovna, sitting alone with him on the balcony, began to speak of Kitty.
"Did you know? Kitty is coming here to spend the summer with me!"
"Indeed!" replied Levin, confused; and instantly, in order to change the subject, he added:—
"Then I shall send you two cows, shall I? And if you insist on paying, and have no scruples, then you may give me five rubles a month."
"No, thank you. We shall get along."
"Well, then I am going to look at your cows; and, with your permission, I will give directions about feeding them. Everything depends on that."
And Levin, in order to turn the conversation, explained to Darya Aleksandrovna the whole theory of the proper management of cows, which was based on the idea that a cow is only a machine for the conversion of fodder into milk, and so on.
He talked on this subject, and yet he was passionately anxious to hear the news about Kitty, but he was also afraid to hear it. It was terrible to him to think that his peace of mind, so painfully won, might be destroyed.
"Yes; but, in order to do all this, there must be some one to superintend it; and who is there?" asked Darya Aleksandrovna, not quite convinced.
Now that she carried on her domestic affairs so satisfactorily, through Matriona Filimonovna, she had no desire to make any changes; moreover, she had no faith in Levin's knowledge about rustic management. His reasonings about a cow being merely a machine to produce milk were suspicious. It seemed to her that such theories would throw housekeeping into discord; it even seemed to her that it was all far simpler, that it was sufficient, to do as Matriona Filimonovna did,—to give Pestrukha and Byelopakha more fodder and drink, ​and to prevent the cook from carrying dish-water from the kitchen to the cow,—that was clear. But the theories about meal and grass for fodder were not clear, but dubious; but the principal point was, that she wanted to talk about Kitty.