Part Two: Chapter 17

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Stepan Arkadyevitch went upstairs with his pocket bulging withnotes, which the merchant had paid him for three months inadvance. The business of the forest was over, the money in hispocket; their shooting had been excellent, and StepanArkadyevitch was in the happiest frame of mind, and so he feltspecially anxious to dissipate the ill-humor that had come uponLevin. He wanted to finish the day at supper as pleasantly as ithad been begun.

　　Levin certainly was out of humor, and in spite off all his desireto be affectionate and cordial to his charming visitor, he couldnot control his mood. The intoxication of the news that Kittywas not married had gradually begun to work upon him.

　　Kitty was not married, but ill, and ill from love for a man whohad slighted her. This slight, as it were, rebounded upon him.Vronsky had slighted her, and she had slighted him, Levin.Consequently Vronsky had the right to despise Levin, andtherefore he was his enemy. But all this Levin did not thinkout. He vaguely felt that there was something in it insulting tohim, and he was not angry now at what had disturbed him, but hefell foul of everything that presented itself. The stupid saleof the forest, the fraud practiced upon Oblonsky and concluded inhis house, exasperated him.

　　"Well, finished?" he said, meeting Stepan Arkadyevitch upstairs."Would you like supper?"

　　"Well, I wouldn't say no to it. What an appetite I get in thecountry! Wonderful! Why didn't you offer Ryabinin something?"

　　"Oh, damn him!"

　　"Still, how you do treat him!" said Oblonsky. "You didn't evenshake hands with him. Why not shake hands with him?"

　　"Because I don't shake hands with a waiter, and a waiter's ahundred times better than he is."

　　"What a reactionist you are, really! What about the amalgamationof classes?" said Oblonsky.

　　"Anyone who likes amalgamating is welcome to it, but it sickensme."

　　"You're a regular reactionist, I see."

　　"Really, I have never considered what I am. I am KonstantinLevin, and nothing else."

　　"And Konstantin Levin very much out of temper," said StepanArkadyevitch, smiling.

　　"Yes, I am out of temper, and do you know why? Because--excuseme--of your stupid sale..."

　　Stepan Arkadyevitch frowned good-humoredly, like one who feelshimself teased and attacked for no fault of his own.

　　"Come, enough about it!" he said. "When did anybody ever sellanything without being told immediately after the sale, 'It wasworth much more'? But when one wants to sell, no one will giveanything.... No, I see you've a grudge against that unluckyRyabinin."

　　"Maybe I have. And do you know why? You'll say again that I'm areactionist, or some other terrible word; but all the same itdoes annoy and anger me to see on all sides the impoverishing ofthe nobility to which I belong, and, in spite of the amalgamationof classes, I'm glad to belong. And their impoverishment is notdue to extravagance--that would be nothing; living in good style--that's the proper thing for noblemen; it's only the nobles whoknow how to do it. Now the peasants about us buy land, and Idon't mind that. The gentleman does nothing, while the peasantworks and supplants the idle man. That's as it ought to be. AndI'm very glad for the peasant. But I do mind seeing the processof impoverishment from a sort of--I don't know what to call it--innocence. Here a Polish speculator bought for half its value amagnificent estate from a young lady who lives in Nice. Andthere a merchant will get three acres of land, worth ten roubles,as security for the loan of one rouble. Here, for no kind ofreason, you've made that rascal a present of thirty thousandroubles."

　　"Well, what should I have done? Counted every tree?"

　　"Of course, they must be counted. You didn't count them, butRyabinin did. Ryabinin's children will have means of livelihoodand education, while yours maybe will not!"

　　"Well, you must excuse me, but there's something mean in thiscounting. We have our business and they have theirs, and theymust make their profit. Anyway, the thing's done, and there's anend of it. And here come some poached eggs, my favorite dish.And Agafea Mihalovna will give us that marvelous herb-brandy..."

　　Stepan Arkadyevitch sat down at the table and began joking withAgafea Mihalovna, assuring her that it was long since he hadtasted such a dinner and such a supper.

　　"Well, you do praise it, anyway," said Agafea Mihalovna, "butKonstantin Dmitrievitch, give him what you will--a crust ofbread--he'll eat it and walk away."

　　Though Levin tried to control himself, he was gloomy and silent.He wanted to put one question to Stepan Arkadyevitch, but hecould not bring himself to the point, and could not find thewords or the moment in which to put it. Stepan Arkadyevitch hadgone down to his room, undressed, again washed, and attired in anightshirt with goffered frills, he had got into bed, but Levinstill lingered in his room, talking of various trifling matters,and not daring to ask what he wanted to know.

　　"How wonderfully they make this soap," he said gazing at a pieceof soap he was handling, which Agafea Mihalovna had put ready forthe visitor but Oblonsky had not used. "Only look; why, it's awork of art."

　　"Yes, everything's brought to such a pitch of perfectionnowadays," said Stepan Arkadyevitch, with a moist and blissfulyawn. "The theater, for instance, and the entertainments...a--a--a!" he yawned. "The electric light everywhere...a--a--a!"

　　"Yes, the electric light," said Levin. "Yes. Oh, and where'sVronsky now?" he asked suddenly, laying down the soap.

　　"Vronsky?" said Stepan Arkadyevitch, checking his yawn; "he's inPetersburg. He left soon after you did, and he's not once beenin Moscow since. And do you know, Kostya, I'll tell you thetruth," he went on, leaning his elbow on the table, and proppingon his hand his handsome ruddy face, in which his moist,good-natured, sleepy eyes shone like stars. "It's your ownfault. You took fright at the sight of your rival. But, as Itold you at the time, I couldn't say which had the betterchance. Why didn't you fight it out? I told you at the timethat...." He yawned inwardly, without opening his mouth.

　　"Does he know, or doesn't he, that I did make an offer?" Levinwondered, gazing at him. "Yes, there's something humbugging,diplomatic in his face," and feeling he was blushing, he lookedStepan Arkadyevitch straight in the face without speaking.

　　"If there was anything on her side at the time, it was nothingbut a superficial attraction," pursued Oblonsky. "His being sucha perfect aristocrat, don't you know, and his future position insociety, had an influence not with her, but with her mother."

　　Levin scowled. The humiliation of his rejection stung him to theheart, as though it were a fresh wound he had only just received.But he was at home, and the walls of home are a support.

　　"Stay, stay," he began, interrupting Oblonsky. "You talk of hisbeing an aristocrat. But allow me to ask what it consists in,that aristocracy of Vronsky or of anybody else, beside which Ican be looked down upon? You consider Vronsky an aristocrat,but I don't. A man whose father crawled up from nothing at allby intrigue, and whose mother--God knows whom she wasn't mixedup with.... No, excuse me, but I consider myself aristocratic,and people like me, who can point back in the past to three orfour honorable generations of their family, of the highest degreeof breeding (talent and intellect, of course that's anothermatter), and have never curried favor with anyone, never dependedon anyone for anything, like my father and my grandfather. And Iknow many such. You think it mean of me to count the trees in myforest, while you may Ryabinin a present of thirty thousand; butyou get rents from your lands and I don't know what, while Idon't and so I prize what's come to me from my ancestors or beenwon by hard work.... We are aristocrats, and not those who canonly exist by favor of the powerful of this world, and who can bebought for twopence halfpenny."

　　"Well, but whom are you attacking? I agree with you," saidStepan Arkadyevitch, sincerely and genially; though he was awarethat in the class of those who could be bought for twopencehalfpenny Levin was reckoning him too. Levin's warmth gave himgenuine pleasure. "Whom are you attacking? Though a good dealis not true that you say about Vronsky, but I won't talk aboutthat. I tell you straight out, if I were you, I should go backwith me to Moscow, and..."

　　"No; I don't know whether you know it or not, but I don't care.And I tell you--I did make an offer and was rejected, andKaterina Alexandrovna is nothing now to me but a painful andhumiliating reminiscence."

　　"What ever for? What nonsense!"

　　"But we won't talk about it. Please forgive me, if I've beennasty," said Levin. Now that he had opened his heart, he becameas he had been in the morning. "You're not angry with me, Stiva?Please don't be angry," he said, and smiling, he took his hand.

　　"Of course not; not a bit, and no reason to be. I'm glad we'vespoken openly. And do you know, stand-shooting in the morning isunusually good--why not go? I couldn't sleep the night anyway,but I might go straight from shooting to the station."

　　"Capital."