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‘I don’t despise it in the least,’ Konstantin Levin said timidly. ‘I’m not even arguing.’

Just then Marya Nikolaevna came back. Nikolai Levin gave her an angry glance. She quickly went over to him and whispered something.

‘I’m not well, I’ve become irritable,’ Nikolai Levin said, calming down and breathing heavily, ‘and then you tell me about Sergei Ivanych and his article. It’s such nonsense, such lies, such self-deception. What can a man write about justice if he knows nothing of it? Have you read his article?’ he asked Kritsky, sitting down at the table again and pushing aside some half-filled cigarettes so as to clear a space.

‘No, I haven’t,’ Kritsky said glumly, obviously unwilling to enter the conversation.

‘Why not?’ Nikolai Levin now turned to Kritsky with irritation.

‘Because I don’t find it necessary to waste time on it.’

‘Excuse me, but how do you know you’d be wasting your time? The article is inaccessible to many - that is, it’s above them. But with me it’s a different matter, I can see through his thought, and I know why it’s weak.’

Everyone fell silent. Kritsky slowly got up and took his hat.

‘You won’t have supper? Well, good-bye. Come tomorrow with a metal-worker.’

As soon as Kritsky left, Nikolai Levin smiled and winked.

‘He’s also in a bad way,’ he said. ‘I do see ...’

But just then Kritsky called him from the door.

‘What does he want now?’ he said and went out to him in the corridor. Left alone with Marya Nikolaevna, Levin turned to her.

‘Have you been with my brother long?’ he asked her.

‘It’s the second year now. His health’s gone really bad. He drinks a lot,’ she said.

‘Drinks, meaning what?’

‘He drinks vodka, and it’s bad for him.’

‘Really a lot?’ Levin whispered.

‘Yes,’ she said, glancing timidly at the doorway, in which Nikolai Levin appeared.

‘What were you talking about?’ he said, frowning, his frightened eyes shifting from one to the other. ‘What was it?’

‘Nothing,’ Konstantin replied, embarrassed.

‘If you don’t want to say, then don’t. Only there’s no need for you to talk with her. She’s a slut and you’re a gentleman,’ he said, his neck twitching. ‘I see you’ve understood and appraised everything, and look upon my errors with regret,’ he began again, raising his voice.

‘Nikolai Dmitrich, Nikolai Dmitrich,’ Marya Nikolaevna whispered, going up to him.

‘Well, all right, all right! ... And what about supper? Ah, here it is,’ he said, seeing a lackey with a tray. ‘Here, put it here,’ he said angrily, and at once took the vodka, poured a glass and drank it greedily. ‘Want a drink?’ he asked his brother, cheering up at once. ‘Well, enough about Sergei Ivanych. Anyhow, I’m glad to see you. Say what you like, we’re not strangers. Well, have a drink. Tell me, what are you up to?’ he went on, greedily chewing a piece of bread and pouring another glass. ‘How’s your life going?’

‘I live alone in the country, as I did before, busy with farming,’ Konstantin replied, looking with horror at the greediness with which his brother ate and drank, and trying not to let it show.

‘Why don’t you get married?’

‘Haven’t had a chance,’ Konstantin replied, blushing.

‘Why not? For me - it’s all over! I’ve spoiled my life. I’ve said and still say that if I’d been given my share when I needed it, my whole life would be different.’

Konstantin Dmitrich hastened to redirect the conversation.

‘You know, your Vanyushka works in my office in Pokrovskoe?’ he said.

Nikolai twitched his neck and fell to thinking.

‘So, tell me, how are things in Pokrovskoe? Is the house still standing, and the birches, and our schoolroom? And Filipp, the gardener, is he still alive? How I remember the gazebo and the bench! Watch out you don’t change anything in the house, but get married quickly and arrange it again just as it used to be. I’ll come to visit you then, if you have a nice wife.’

‘Come to visit me now,’ said Levin. ‘We’ll settle in so nicely!’

‘I’d come if I knew I wouldn’t find Sergei Ivanych there.’

‘You won’t find him there. I live quite