He sat down, tucked the tiger-skin rug round him, and lighted a cigar.

" How is it you don't smoke? A cigar is a sort of thing, not exactly a pleasure, but the crown and outward sign of pleasure.

Come, this is life! How splendid it is! This is how I should like to live!" "Why, who prevents you?" said Levin, smiling.

"No, you're a lucky man! You've got everything you like.

You like horses--and you have them; dogs--you have them; shooting-- you have it; farming--you have it.