Part One: Chapter 24

by Leo Tolstoy

　　"Yes, there is something in be hatful, repulsive," thought Levin,as he came away from the Shtcherbatskys', and walked in thedirection of his brother's lodgings. "And I don't get on withother people. Pride, they say. No, I have no pride. If I hadany pride, I should not have put myself in such a position." Andhe pictured to himself Vronsky, happy, good-natured, clever, andself-possessed, certainly never placed in the awful position inwhich he had been that evening. "Yes, she was bound to choosehim. So it had to be, and I cannot complain of anyone oranything. I am myself to blame. What right had I to imagine shewould care to join her life to mine? Whom am I and what am I? Anobody, not wanted by any one, nor of use to anybody." And herecalled his brother Nikolay, and dwelt with pleasure on thethought of him. "Isn't he right that everything in the world isbase and loathsome? And are we fair in our judgment of brotherNikolay? Of course, from the point of view of Prokofy, seeinghim in a torn cloak and tipsy, he's a despicable person. But Iknow him differently. I know his soul, and know that we are likehim. And I, instead of going to seek him out, went out todinner, and came here." Levin walked up to a lamppost, read hisbrother's address, which was in his pocketbook, and called asledge. All the long way to his brother's, Levin vividlyrecalled all the facts familiar to him of his brother Nikolay'slife. He remembered how his brother, while at the university,and for a year afterwards, had, in spite of the jeers of hiscompanions, lived like a monk, strictly observing all religiousrites, services, and fasts, and avoiding every sort of pleasure,especially women. And afterwards, how he had all at once brokenout: he had associated with the most horrible people, and rushedinto the most senseless debauchery. He remembered later thescandal over a boy, whom he had taken from the country to bringup, and, in a fit of rage, had so violently beaten thatproceedings were brought against him for unlawfully wounding.Then he recalled the scandal with a sharper, to whom he had lostmoney, and given a promissory note, and against whom he hadhimself lodged a complaint, asserting that he had cheated him.(This was the money Sergey Ivanovitch had paid.) Then heremembered how he had spent a night in the lockup for disorderlyconduct in the street. He remembered the shameful proceedings hehad tried to get up against his brother Sergey Ivanovitch,accusing him of not having paid him his share of his mother'sfortune, and the last scandal, when he had gone to a westernprovince in an official capacity, and there had got into troublefor assaulting a village elder.... It was all horriblydisgusting, yet to Levin it appeared not at all in the samedisgusting light as it inevitably would to those who did not knowNikolay, did not know all his story, did not know his heart.

　　Levin remembered that when Nikolay had been in the devout stage,the period of fasts and monks and church services, when he wasseeking in religion a support and a curb for his passionatetemperament, everyone, far from encouraging him, had jeered athim, and he, too, with the others. They had teased him, calledhim Noah and Monk; and, when he had broken out, no one had helpedhim, but everyone had turned away from him with horror anddisgust.

　　Levin felt that, in spite of all the ugliness of his life, hisbrother Nikolay, in his soul, in the very depths of his soul, wasno more in the wrong than the people who despised him. He wasnot to blame for having been born with his unbridled temperamentand his somehow limited intelligence. But he had always wantedto be good. "I will tell him everything, without reserve, and Iwill make him speak without reserve, too, and I'll show him thatI love him, and so understand him," Levin resolved to himself,as, towards eleven o'clock, he reached the hotel of which he hadthe address.

　　"At the top, 12 and 13," the porter answered Levin's inquiry.

　　"At home?"

　　"Sure to be at home."

　　The door of No. 12 was half open, and there came out into thestreak of light thick fumes of cheap, poor tobacco, and the soundof a voice, unknown to Levin; but he knew at once that hisbrother was there; he heard his cough.

　　As he went in the door, the unknown voice was saying:

　　"It all depends with how much judgment and knowledge the thing'sdone."

　　Konstantin Levin looked in at the door, and saw that the speakerwas a young man with an immense shock of hair, wearing a Russianjerkin, and that a pockmarked woman in a woolen gown, withoutcollar or cuffs, was sitting on the sofa. His brother was not tobe seen. Konstantin felt a sharp pang at his heart at thethought of the strange company in which his brother spent hislife. No one had heard him, and Konstantin, taking off hisgaloshes, listened to what the gentleman in the jerkin wassaying. He was speaking of some enterprise.

　　"Well, the devil flay them, the privileged classes," hisbrother's voice responded, with a cough. "Masha! get us somesupper and some wine if there's any left; or else go and getsome."

　　The woman rose, came out from behind the screen, and sawKonstantin.

　　"There's some gentleman, Nikolay Dmitrievitch," she said.

　　"Whom do you want?" said the voice of Nikolay Levin, angrily.

　　"It's I," answered Konstantin Levin, coming forward into thelight.

　　"Who's _I_?" Nikolay's voice said again, still more angrily. Hecould be heard getting up hurriedly, stumbling against something,and Levin saw, facing him in the doorway, the big, scared eyes,and the huge, thin, stooping figure of his brother, so familiar,and yet astonishing in it weirdness and sickliness.

　　He was even thinner than three years before, when KonstantinLevin had seen him last. He was wearing a short coat, and hishands and big bones seemed huger than ever. His hair had grownthinner, the same straight mustaches hid his lips, the same eyesgazed strangely and naively at his visitor.

　　"Ah, Kostya!" he exclaimed suddenly, recognizing his brother, andhis eyes lit up with joy. But the same second he looked round atthe young man, and gave the nervous jerk of his head and neckthat Konstantin knew so well, as if his neckband hurt him; and aquite different expression, wild, suffering, and cruel, restedon his emaciated fact.

　　"I wrote to you and Sergey Ivanovitch both that I don't know youand don't want to know you. What is it you want?"

　　He was not at all the same as Konstantin had been fancying him.The worst and most tiresome part of his character, what made allrelations with him so difficult, had been forgotten by KonstantinLevin when he thought of him, and now, when he saw his face, andespecially that nervous twitching of his head, he remembered itall.

　　"I didn't want to see you for anything," he answered timidly."I've simply come to see you."

　　His brother's timidity obviously softened Nikolay. His lipstwitched.

　　"Oh, so that's it?" he said. "Well, come in; sit down. Likesome supper? Masha, bring supper for three. No, stop a minute.Do you know who this is?" he said, addressing his brother, andindicating the gentleman in the jerkin: "This is Mr. Kritsky, myfriend from Kiev, a very remarkable man. He's persecuted by thepolice, of course, because he's not a scoundrel."

　　And he looked round in the way he always did at everyone in theroom. Seeing that the woman standing in the doorway was movingto go, he shouted to her, "Wait a minute, I said." And with theinability to express himself, the incoherence that Konstantinknew so well, he began, with another look round at everyone, totell his brother Kritsky's story: how he had been expelled fromthe university for starting a benefit society for the poorstudents and Sunday schools; and how he had afterwards been ateacher in a peasant school, and how he had been driven out ofthat too, and had afterwards been condemned for something.

　　"You're of the Kiev university?" said Konstantin Levin toKritsky, to break the awkward silence that followed.

　　"Yes, I was of Kiev," Kritsky replied angrily, his facedarkening.

　　"And this woman," Nikolay Levin interrupted him, pointing to her,"is the partner of my life, Marya Nikolaevna. I took her out ofa bad house," and he jerked his neck saying this; "but I love herand respect her, and any one who wants to know me," he added,raising his voice and knitting his brows, "I beg to love her andrespect her. She's just the same as my wife, just the same. Sonow you know whom you've to do with. And if you think you'relowering yourself, well, here's the floor, there's the door."

　　And again his eyes traveled inquiringly over all of them.

　　"Why I should be lowering myself, I don't understand."

　　"Then, Masha, tell them to bring supper; three portions, spiritsand wine.... No, wait a minute.... No, it doesn't matter....Go along."