“Did you get my note?” he said. “There’s never any finding you.”

Alexander Vronsky, in spite of the dissolute life, and in especial the drunken habits, for which he was notorious, was quite one of the court circle.

Now, as he talked to his brother of a matter bound to be exceedingly disagreeable to him, knowing that the eyes of many people might be fixed upon him, he kept a smiling countenance, as though he were jesting with his brother about something of little moment.

“I got it, and I really can’t make out what you are worrying yourself about,” said Alexey.

“I’m worrying myself because the remark has just been made to me that you weren’t here, and that you were seen in Peterhof on Monday.”

“There are matters which only concern those directly interested in them, and the matter you are so worried about is.⁠ ⁠…”