`It's a plaything,' Levin cut him short. `We don't want justices of the peace. I've never had a single thing to do with them during eight years. And what I have had, was decided wrongly by them. The justice of the peace is over thirty miles from me. For a matter of two roubles or so, I should have to send a lawyer, who costs me fifteen.'
And he related how a peasant had stolen some flour from the miller, and when the miller told him of it, had lodged a complaint for slander.
All this was utterly uncalled-for and stupid, and Levin felt it himself as he said it.
`Oh, this is such an original fellow!' said Stepan Arkadyevich with his most soothing, almond-oil smile. `But come along; I think they're voting....'
And they separated.
`I can't understand,' said Sergei Ivanovich, who had observed his brother's gaucherie, `I can't understand how anyone can be so absolutely devoid of political tact. That's where we Russians are so deficient. The marshal of the province is our opponent, and with him you're ami cochon , and you beg him to be candidate. Count Vronsky, now... I'm not ****** a friend of him - he's asked me to dinner, and I'm not going; but he's one of our side - why make an enemy of him? Then you ask Neviedovsky if he's going to run. That's not done.'
`Oh, I don't understand it at all! And it's all such nonsense,'
Levin answered somberly.
`You say it's all such nonsense - yet as soon as you have anything to do with it, you make a muddle.'
Levin did not answer, and they walked together into the big room.
The marshal of the province, though he was vaguely conscious in the air of some trap being prepared for him, and though he had not been called upon by all to run, had nevertheless made up his mind to run for office. All was silence in the room. The secretary announced in a loud voice that Mikhail Stepanovich Snetkov, captain of the guards, would now be balloted for as marshal of the province.
The district marshals walked carrying plates, on which were balls, from their tables to the province table, and the election began.
`Put it in the right side,' whispered Stepan Arkadyevich, as Levin with his brother followed the marshal of his district to the table. But Levin had forgotten by now the machination that had been explained to him, and was afraid Stepan Arkadyevich might be mistaken in saying `the right side.' Surely Snetkov was the enemy. As he went up, he held the ball in his right hand, but thinking he was wrong, just at the box he changed to the left hand, and undoubtedly put the ball to the left. An adept in the business, standing at the box and seeing by the mere action of the elbow where each put his ball, scowled with annoyance. It was no good for him to use his insight.
Everything was still, and the counting of the balls was heard.
Then a single voice rose and proclaimed the numbers for and against.
The marshal had been voted for by a considerable majority. All was noise and eager movement toward the doors. Snetkov came in, and the nobles thronged round him, congratulating him.
`Well, now, is it over?' Levin asked Sergei Ivanovich.
`It's only just beginning,' Sviiazhsky said, replying for Sergei Ivanovich with a smile. `Some other candidate may receive more votes than the marshal.'
Levin had quite forgotten about that again. Now he could only remember that there was some sort of trickery in it, but he was too bored to think what it was exactly. He felt depressed, and longed to get out of the crowd.
As no one was paying any attention to him, and no one apparently needed him, he quietly slipped away into the little room where the refreshments were, and again had a great sense of comfort when he saw the waiters. The little old waiter pressed him to have something, and Levin agreed. After eating a cutlet with beans and talking to the waiters of their former masters, Levin, not wishing to go back to the hall, where it was all so distasteful to him, proceeded to walk through the galleries.
The galleries were full of fashionably dressed ladies, leaning over the balustrade and trying not to lose a single word of what was being said below. With the ladies were sitting and standing smart lawyers, high school teachers in spectacles, and officers. Everywhere they were talking of the election, and of how worried the marshal was, and how splendid the discussions had been. In one group Levin heard his brother's praises. One lady was telling a lawyer:
`How glad I am I heard Koznishev! It's worth missing one's lunch.
He's exquisite! So clear and distinct - all of it! There's not one of you in the law courts that speaks like that. The only one is Meidel, and he's very far from being so eloquent.'
Finding a free place, Levin leaned over the balustrade and began looking and listening.
All the noblemen were sitting railed off behind barriers, according to their districts. In the middle of the room stood a man in a uniform, who shouted in a loud high voice:
`As a candidate for the marshalship of the nobility of the province we call upon staff captain Eugenii Ivanovich Apukhtin!' A dead silence followed, and then a weak old voice was heard:
`Declined!'
`We call upon the privy councilor Piotr Petrovich Bol,' the voice began again.
`Declined!' a high boyish voice replied.
Again it began, and again came the `Declined.' And so it went on for about an hour. Levin, with his elbows on the balustrade, looked and listened. At first he wondered and wanted to know what it meant; then feeling sure that he could not make it out he began to be bored. Then, recalling all the excitement and vindictiveness he had seen on all the faces, he felt sad; he made up his mind to go, and went downstairs. As he passed through the entry to the galleries he met a dejected high school boy walking up and down with tired-looking eyes. On the stairs he met a couple - a lady running quickly on her high heels and the jaunty deputy prosecutor.
`I told you you weren't late,' the deputy prosecutor was saying at the moment when Levin moved aside to let the lady pass.