“I can’t understand,” said Sergey Ivanovitch, who had observed his brother’s clumsiness, “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 stand. Count Vronsky, now⁠ ⁠… I’m not making 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 Nevyedovsky if he’s going to stand. That’s not a thing to do.”

“Oh, I don’t understand it at all! And it’s all such nonsense,” Levin answered gloomily.

“You say it’s all such nonsense, but 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.