"That was good, but this is even better. Both are better," he
said, squeezing her hand.

"Do you know what we were talking about when you came in?"

"About jam?"

"Oh, yes, about jam too; but afterwards, about how men make
offers."

"Ah!" said Levin, listening more to the sound of her voice than
to the words she was saying, and all the while paying attention
to the road, which passed now through the forest, and avoiding
places where she might make a false step.

"And about Sergey Ivanovitch and Varenka. You've noticed?...
I'm very anxious for it," she went on. "What do you think about
it?" And she peeped into his face.

"I don't know what to think," Levin answered, smiling. "Sergey
seems very strange to me in that way. I told you, you know..."

"Yes, that he was in love with that girl who died...."

"That was when I was a child; I know about it from hearsay and
tradition. I remember him then. He was wonderfully sweet. But
I've watched him since with women; he is friendly, some of them
he likes, but one feels that to him they're simply people, not
women."

"Yes, but now with Varenka...I fancy there's something..."

"Perhaps there is.... But one has to know him.... He's a
peculiar, wonderful person. He lives a spiritual life only.
He's too pure, too exalted a nature."