Anna Karenina (Penguin) - Leo Tolstoy [458]
‘But is he old or young?’ Levin asked, laughing, reminded of someone by Tanya’s imitation. ‘Ah,’ he thought, ‘I only hope it’s not somebody unpleasant!’
Only when he turned round the bend of the road and saw them coming to meet him did Levin recognize Katavasov in his straw hat, walking along waving his arms just as Tanya had imitated him.
Katavasov was very fond of talking about philosophy, taking his notion of it from natural scientists who never studied philosophy, and in Moscow recently Levin had had many arguments with him.
One of those conversations, in which Katavasov had thought he had gained the upper hand, was the first thing that Levin remembered when he recognized him.
‘No, I’m not going to argue and speak my thoughts light-mindedly, not for anything,’ he thought.
Getting down from the gig and greeting his brother and Katavasov, Levin asked about his wife.
‘She’s taken Mitya to Kolok’ (that was a wood near the house). ‘She wanted to settle him there, it’s hot in the house, said Dolly.’
Levin had always advised his wife against taking the baby to the wood, which he considered dangerous, and the news displeased him.
‘She rushes from place to place with him,’ the prince said, smiling. ‘I advised her to try taking him to the ice-cellar.’
‘She wanted to go to the apiary. She thought you were there. That’s where we’re going,’ said Dolly.
‘Well, what are you up to?’ said Sergei Ivanovich, lagging behind the others and walking side by side with his brother.
‘Nothing special. Busy with farming, as usual,’ Levin answered. ‘And you, can you stay long? We’ve been expecting you all this while.’
‘A couple of weeks. There’s so much to do in Moscow.’
At these words the brothers’ eyes met, and Levin, despite his usual and now especially strong desire to be on friendly and, above all, simple terms with his brother, felt it awkward to look at him. He lowered his eyes and did not know what to say.
Going over subjects of conversation that would be agreeable for Sergei Ivanovich and would distract him from talking about the Serbian war and the Slavic question, which he had hinted at in mentioning how busy he was in Moscow, Levin spoke of Sergei Ivanovich’s book.
‘Well, have there been reviews of your book?’ he asked.
Sergei Ivanovich smiled at the deliberateness of the question.
‘Nobody’s interested in it, and I least of all,’ he said. ‘Look, Darya Alexandrovna, it’s going to rain,’ he added, pointing with his umbrella at some white clouds that appeared over the aspen tops.
And these words were enough to re-establish between the brothers the not hostile but cool relations that Levin was trying to avoid.
Levin went over to Katavasov.
‘How nice that you decided to come,’ he said to him.
‘I’ve long been meaning to. Now we’ll talk and see. Have you read Spencer?’
‘No, I didn’t finish,’ Levin said. ‘However, I don’t need him now.’
‘How so? That’s interesting. Why?’
‘I mean I’ve finally become convinced that I won’t find in him and those like him the solution to the questions that interest me. Now ...’
But he was suddenly struck by the calm and cheerful expression on Katavasov’s face, and was so sorry to have disturbed his own mood with this conversation, as he obviously had, that, recalling his intention, he stopped.
‘However, we’ll talk later,’ he added. ‘If we’re going to the apiary, it’s here, down this path,’ he said, addressing everyone.
Having come by a narrow path to an unmowed clearing, covered on one side with bright cow-wheat thickly interspersed with tall, dark-green clumps of hellebore, Levin placed his guests in the dense, fresh shade of the young aspens, on a bench and on stumps especially prepared for visitors to the apiary who were afraid of bees, and went to the enclosure to fetch bread, cucumbers, and fresh honey for the children and grown-ups.
Trying to make as few quick movements as possible and listening to the bees flying past him more and more frequently, he went down the path as far as the cottage. Just at the front door a bee whined, tangled in his