Veslovsky is sent to the station

Levin finds Dolly punishing Masha in a corner for something done among the raspberry canes, and puts his question hand on heart: was there something in that gentleman's tone offensive to a husband? Dolly answers that the world would call it what all young men do, and that Stiva said after tea he believed Veslovsky was courting Kitty a wee bit. That is enough. Levin orders the tarantas — the calèche has a broken spring — and goes to Veslovsky's room, where the man is trying on leggings among his unpacked songs. Breaking the splintered ends off a stick from the morning's gymnastics, Levin tells him the horses are harnessed for the station: no visitors are expected, nothing has happened, and he may explain the impoliteness as he pleases. Veslovsky asks for an explanation, is refused, shrugs and bows. Oblonsky calls it the height of absurdity. Levin knows he is ridiculous and guilty and would do it again. The mechanic, forgotten, is put into the cart with him, and by evening the house is merry.

Levin does the one thing nobody in this novel ever does — acts on a private grievance in defiance of every social rule — and Tolstoy neither vindicates nor mocks him: he is ridiculous, guilty, and right. The splintered stick broken to pieces in his hands carries the threat the words refuse. The house's relief afterwards, and Dolly retelling it for laughs, is the reward for breaking form.