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fragmentary musical expressions, though sometimes beautiful, were disagreeable, because they were utterly unexpected and not led up to by anything. Gaiety and grief and despair and tenderness and triumph followed one another without any connection, like the emotions of a madman. And those emotions, like a madmans, sprang up quite unexpectedly. During the whole of the performance Levin felt like a deaf man watching people dancing, and was in a state of complete bewilderment when the fantasia was over, and felt a great weariness from the fruitless strain on his attention. Loud applause resounded on all sides. Everyone got up, moved about, and began talking. Anxious to throw some light on his own perplexity from the impressions of others, Levin began to walk about, looking for connoisseurs, and was glad to see a well-known musical amateur in conversation with Pestsov, whom he knew. "Marvelous!" Pestsov was saying in his mellow bass. "How are you, Konstantin Dmitrievitch? Particularly sculpturesque and plastic, so to say, and richly colored is that passage where you feel Cordelias approach, where woman, _das ewig Weibliche,_ enters into conflict with fate. Isnt it?" "You mean...what has Cordelia to do with it?" Levin asked timidly, forgetting that the fantasia was supposed to represent King Lear. "Cordelia comes in...see here!" said Pestsov, tapping his finger on the satiny surface of the program he held in his hand and passing it to Levin. Only then Levin recollected the title of the fantasia, and made haste to read in the Russian translation the lines from Shakespeare that were printed on the back of the program. "You cant follow it without that," said Pestsov, addressing Levin, as the person he had been speaking to had gone away, and he had no one to talk to. In the _entracte_ Levin and Pestsov fell into an argument upon the merits and defects of music of the Wagner school. Levin maintained that the mistake of Wagner and all his followers lay in their trying to take music into the sphere of another art, just as poetry goes wrong when it tries to paint a face as the art of painting ought to do, and as an instance of this mistake he cited the sculptor who carved in marble certain poetic phantasms flitting round the figure of the poet on the pedestal. "These phantoms were so far from being phantoms that they were positively clinging on the ladder," said Levin. The comparison pleased him, but he could not remember whether he had not used the same phrase before, and to Pestsov, too, and as he said it he felt confused. Pestsov maintained that art is one, and that it can attain its highest manifestations only by conjunction with all kinds of art. The second piece that was performed Levin could not hear. Pestsov, who was standing beside him, was talking to him almost all the time, condemning the music for its excessive affected assumption of simplicity, and comparing it with the simplicity of the Pre-Raphaelites in painting. As he went out Levin met many more acquaintances, with whom he talked of politics, of music, and of common acquaintances. Among others he met Count Bol, whom he had utterly forgotten to call upon. "Well, go at once then," Madame Lvova said, when he told her; "perhaps theyll not be at home, and then you can come to the meeting to fetch me. Youll find me still there." Chapter 6 "Perhaps theyre not at home?" said Levin, as he went into the hall of Countess Bolas house. "At home; please walk in," said the porter, resolutely removing his overcoat. "How annoying!" thought Levin with a sigh, taking off one glove and stroking his hat. "What did I come for? What have I to say to them?" As he passed through the first drawing room Levin met in the doorway Countess Bola, giving some order to a servant with a care-worn and severe face. On seeing Levin she smiled, and asked him to come into the little drawing room, where he heard voices. In this room there were sitting in armchairs the two daughters of the countess, and a Moscow colonel, whom Levin knew. Levin went up, greeted them, and sat down beside the sofa with his hat on his knees. "How is your wife? Have you been at the concert? We couldnt go. Mamma had to be at the funeral service." "Yes, I heard.... What a sudden death!" said Levin. The countess came in, sat down on the sofa, and she too asked after his

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