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 artist carried to brutality; Levin remarked that the French had carried conventionality in art to greater lengths than any other people, and that, therefore, they found especial merit in the reaction toward realism. They discovered poetry in the fact that they no longer lied.

Never had Levin said a clever thing which gave him anything like the pleasure that this did. Anna's face grew suddenly bright, as the full force of his remark dawned on her. She laughed.

"I am delighted," she said; "just as you are when you see a very lifelike portrait. What you just said is characteristic of all French art at the present time—painting and even literature: Zola, Daudet. But possibly this is always the way that men form their conceptions from imaginary, conventional figures, but afterward—all the combinaisons made, the imaginary figures weary, and people begin to invent more natural and truthful figures."

"That is perfectly true," said Vorkuyef.

"Have you been to the club?" asked Anna, turning to her brother.

"Yes, yes, here is a genuine woman," said Levin to himself, forgetting himself, and gazing steadily into her handsome, mobile face, which now suddenly changed its expression. Levin did not hear what she was talking about as she bent over toward her brother, but he was struck by the change in her expression. Beautiful as it had been before in repose, it now suddenly assumed a mixed expression of curiosity, wrath, and pride. But this lasted for only one minute. She half closed her eyes, as if she were trying to remember something.

"However, this is interesting to no one," said she, and she addressed the English girl in English. "Please order the tea in the drawing-room."

The girl rose and went out.

"Well, has she passed the examination?" asked Stepan Arkadyevitch.

"Perfectly. She is a very capable girl, and a lovely character."