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 of champagne to the front steps, and proposed the toast,—

"To the health of our old comrade, the brave general, Prince Serpukhovskoï. Hurrah!"

Behind the regimental commander came Serpukhovskoï, smiling, with a glass in his hand.

"You are always young, Bondarenko," said he to the sergeant, a ruddy-cheeked soldier, who stood directly in front of him.

Vronsky had not seen Serpukhovskoï for three years. He had grown older, and wore whiskers, but he was the same well-built man, striking not so much for his good looks as for the nobility and gentleness of his face and his whole bearing. The only change that Vronsky noted in him was the slight but constant radiance which can generally be seen in the faces of people who have succeeded and made everybody else believe in their success. Vronsky had seen it in other people, and now he detected it in Serpukhovskoï.

As he descended the steps he caught sight of Vronsky, and a smile of joy irradiated his face. He nodded to him, lifting his wine-cup as a greeting, and at the same time to signify that first he must drink with the sergeant, who, standing perfectly straight, had puckered his lips for the kiss.

"Well, here he is!" cried the regimental commander; "but Yashvin was telling me that you were in one of your bad humors."

Serpukhovskoï, having kissed the young sergeant's moist, fresh lips, wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, and came to Vronsky.

"Well, how glad I am!" he said, shaking hands, and drawing him on one side.

"Bring him along," cried the regimental commander to Yashvin, pointing to Vronsky, and descending to join the soldiers.

"Why were n't you at the races yesterday? I expected to see you," said Vronsky to Serpukhovskoï, studying his face.

"I did come, but too late. Excuse me," he said;