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Updated: June 1, 2025
To Sergey Ivanovitch the country meant on one hand rest from work, on the other a valuable antidote to the corrupt influences of town, which he took with satisfaction and a sense of its utility. To Konstantin Levin the country was good first because it afforded a field for labor, of the usefulness of which there could be no doubt.
'I will go to the town and be a cabman. . . . It seems it is fated not to be. At Easter I went to Demidovo to have a last look at her. . . ." Konstantin threw back his head and went off into a mirthful tinkling laugh, as though he had just taken someone in very cleverly. "I saw her by the river with the lads," he went on.
"What were you talking about?" he said, knitting his brows, and turning his scared eyes from one to the other. "What was it?" "Oh, nothing," Konstantin answered in confusion. "Oh, if you don't want to say, don't. Only it's no good your talking to her. She's a wench, and you're a gentleman," he said with a jerk of the neck.
One was that the chestnut trace horse, who had been unmistakably overworked on the previous day, was off his feed and out of sorts. The coachman said he was "Overdriven yesterday, Konstantin Dmitrievitch. Yes, indeed! driven ten miles with no sense!"
"These new institutions, these justices of the peace, rural councils, what hideousness it all is!" And he began to enlarge on his encounters with the new institutions. Konstantin Levin heard him, and the disbelief in the sense of all public institutions, which he shared with him, and often expressed, was distasteful to him now from his brother's lips.
Besides this, Konstantin Levin was not at his ease with his brother, because in summer in the country Levin was continually busy with work on the land, and the long summer day was not long enough for him to get through all he had to do, while Sergey Ivanovitch was taking a holiday.
She took it and they both turned along the path to her house. Walking with Alexandra Pavlovna on his arm seemed to afford Konstantin Diomiditch great delight; he moved with little steps, smiling, and his Oriental eyes were even be-dimmed by a slight moisture, though this indeed was no rare occurrence with them; it did not mean much for Konstantin Diomiditch to be moved and dissolve into tears.
Anxious to throw some light on his own perplexity from the impressions of others, Levin began to walk about, looking for connoisseurs, and was glad to see a well-known musical amateur in conversation with Pestsov, whom he knew. "Marvelous!" Pestsov was saying in his mellow bass. "How are you, Konstantin Dmitrievitch?
When he came out of the forest, in the immense plain before him, his grass fields stretched in an unbroken carpet of green, without one bare place or swamp, only spotted here and there in the hollows with patches of melting snow. "We must get the ploughing done first, Konstantin Dmitrievitch," answered Ipat.
This man's body will be returned in one of them to his master, and the Professor here will write an account of his death in order that it may not be believed that we have murdered him. Konstantin Volnow, go into the saloon and write that letter, and bring it to me when it is done." Like an automaton the Professor turned and walked mechanically into the deck-saloon.
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