'Suppose we have some Rhine wine,' said the young one, turning his eyes timidly to Vronsky while his fingers tried to catch hold of his just-budding moustache. Seeing that Vronsky did not turn round, he rose.
–Acaso vino del Rin... –indicó el oficial joven, mirando con timidez a Vronsky y tratando de atusarse los bigotillos incipientes. Viendo que Vronsky no le dirigía la mirada, el oficial joven se levantó. –Vayamos a la sala de billar ––dijo.