After filling for two years the post of president of one of the government boards at Moscow

After filling for two years the post of president of one of the government boards at Moscow, Stepan Arkadyevich had won the respect, as well as the liking, of his fellow officials, subordinates and superiors, and all who had had business with him. The principal qualities in Stepan Arkadyevich which had gained him this universal respect in the service consisted, in the first place, of his extreme indulgence for others, founded on a consciousness of his own shortcomings; secondly, of his perfect liberalism - not the liberalism he read of in the papers, but the liberalism that was in his blood, in virtue of which he treated all men perfectly equally and exactly the same, whatever their fortune or rank might be; and thirdly - the most important point - of his complete indifference to the business in which he was engaged, in consequence of which he was never carried away, and made no mistakes.
On reaching the offices of the board Stepan Arkadyevich, escorted by a deferential porter with a portfolio, went into his little private room, put on his uniform, and went into the board room. The clerks and officials all rose, greeting him with good-humored deference. Stepan Arkadyevich moved quickly, as always, to his place, shook hands with the members of the board, and sat down. He made a joke or two, and talked just as much as was consistent with due decorum, and began work. No one knew better than Stepan Arkadyevich how to hit on that exact limit of freedom, simplicity and official stiffness which is necessary for the agreeable conduct of business. A secretary, with the good-humored deference common to everyone in Stepan Arkadyevich's office, came up with papers, and began to speak in the familiar and easy tone which had been introduced by Stepan Arkadyevich.
`We have succeeded in getting the information from the government department of Penza. Here, would you care?...'
`You've got it at last?' said Stepan Arkadyevich, laying his finger on the paper. `Now, gentlemen...'
And the sitting of the board began.
`If they but knew,' he thought, inclining his head with an important air and listening to the report, `what a guilty little boy their president was half an hour ago!' And his eyes were laughing during the reading of the report. Till two o'clock the sitting would go on without a break - then there would be an interval and luncheon.
It was not yet two, when the large glass doors of the board room suddenly opened and someone came in.
All the members of the board, sitting at the table, from below the portrait of the Czar and from behind the mirror of justice, delighted at any distraction, looked round at the door; but the doorkeeper standing there at once drove out the intruder, and closed the glass door after him.
When the case had been read through, Stepan Arkadyevich got up and stretched, and by way of tribute to the liberalism of the times took out a cigarette, being in the board room, and went into his private room. Two of his board fellows, the old veteran in the service, Nikitin, and the Kammerjunker Grinevich, went in with him.
`We shall have time to finish after lunch,' said Stepan Arkadyevich.
`To be sure we shall!' said Nikitin.
`A pretty sharp fellow this Fomin must be,' said Grinevich of one of the persons taking part in the case they were examining.
Stepan Arkadyevich frowned at Grinevich's words, giving him thereby to understand that it was improper to pass judgment prematurely, and made him no reply.
`Who was it who came in?' he asked the doorkeeper.
`Some fellow, your excellency, sneaked in without permission directly my back was turned. He was asking for you. I told him: when the members come out, then...'
`Where is he?'
`
`We have long been expecting you,' said Stepan Arkadyevich, going into his room and letting Levin's hand go as though to show that here all danger was over. `I am very, very glad to see you,' he went on. `Well, what now? How are you? When did you come?'
Levin was silent, looking at the unfamiliar faces of Oblonsky's two companions, and especially at the elegant Grinevich's hands - with such long white fingers, such long yellow nails, curved at their end, and such huge shining studs on the shirt cuff, that apparently these hands absorbed all his attention, and allowed him no freedom of thought. Oblonsky noticed this at once, and smiled.
`Ah, to be sure, let me introduce you,' he said. `My colleagues: Philip Ivanich Nikitin, Mikhail Stanislavich Grinevich' - and turning to Levin - `a Zemstvo member, a modern Zemstvo man, a gymnast who lifts five poods with one hand, a cattle breeder and sportsman, and my friend - Constantin Dmitrievich Levin, the brother of Sergei Ivanovich Koznishev.'
`Delighted,' said the veteran.