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Updated: June 1, 2025
And Sergey Ivanovitch carried the subject into the regions of philosophical history where Konstantin Levin could not follow him, and showed him all the incorrectness of his view. "As for your dislike of it, excuse my saying so, that's simply our Russian sloth and old serf-owner's ways, and I'm convinced that in you it's a temporary error and will pass." Konstantin was silent.
Before forming the first letter he several times looked round fearfully at the door and the windows, stole a glance at the dark ikon, on both sides of which stretched shelves full of lasts, and heaved a broken sigh. The paper lay on the bench while he knelt before it. "Dear grandfather, Konstantin Makaritch," he wrote, "I am writing you a letter.
Konstantin Levin had warmed to his subject, and began mimicking the president and the half-witted Alioshka: it seemed to him that it was all to the point. But Sergey Ivanovitch shrugged his shoulders. "Well, what do you mean to say, then?"
But since I have been here, my mind's been set at rest. I see that there are people besides me who're only interested in Russia, and not in their Slavonic brethren. Here's Konstantin too." "Personal opinions mean nothing in such a case," said Sergey Ivanovitch; "it's not a matter of personal opinions when all Russia the whole people has expressed its will." "But excuse me, I don't see that.
This was evident from the smile in his eyes and the way he said: "Well, it's a long while since you've been to see us, Konstantin Demitrievitch!" Not only he knew all about it, but he was unmistakably delighted and making efforts to conceal his joy. Looking into his kindly old eyes, Levin realized even something new in his happiness. "Are they up?" "Pray walk in!
"But do drink something. Would you like some champagne? Or shall we go somewhere? Let's go to the Gypsies! Do you know I have got so fond of the Gypsies and Russian songs." His speech had begun to falter, and he passed abruptly from one subject to another. Konstantin with the help of Masha persuaded him not to go out anywhere, and got him to bed hopelessly drunk.
Lezhnyov? inquired Pandalevsky, as though he were surprised. 'Yes, Mihailo Mihailitch Lezhnyov, replied Volintsev. 'Well, good-bye; it's time I was off to the field; they are sowing your buckwheat. Mr. Pandalevsky will escort you home. And Volintsev rode off at a trot. 'With the greatest of pleasure! cried Konstantin Diomiditch, offering Alexandra Pavlovna his arm.
Konstantin Levin regarded his brother as a man of immense intellect and culture, as generous in the highest sense of the word, and possessed of a special faculty for working for the public good.
While they were putting the horses in, Konstantin walked by the waggons and talked rapturously of his wife. "Good-bye, mates!" he cried when the waggons started. "Thank you for your hospitality. I shall go on again towards that light. It's more than I can stand."
Look you where I sowed last spring. How I did work at it! I do my best, Konstantin Dmitrievitch, d'ye see, as I would for my own father. I don't like bad work myself, nor would I let another man do it. What's good for the master's good for us too. To look out yonder now," said Vassily, pointing, "it does one's heart good." "It's a lovely spring, Vassily."
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