“Why?  Because the peasants are just as much slaves as they ever were, and that’s why you and Sergey Ivanovitch don’t like people to try and get them out of their slavery,” said Nikolay Levin, exasperated by the objection.

Konstantin Levin sighed, looking meanwhile about the cheerless and dirty room.  This sigh seemed to exasperate Nikolay still more.

“I know your and Sergey Ivanovitch’s aristocratic views.  I know that he applies all the power of his intellect to justify existing evils.”

“No; and what do you talk of Sergey Ivanovitch for?” said Levin, smiling.

“Sergey Ivanovitch?  I’ll tell you what for!” Nikolay Levin shrieked suddenly at the name of Sergey Ivanovitch.  “I’ll tell you what for....  But what’s the use of talking?  There’s only one thing....  What did you come to me for?  You look down on this, and you’re welcome to,—­and go away, in God’s name go away!” he shrieked, getting up from his chair.  “And go away, and go away!”

“I don’t look down on it at all,” said Konstantin Levin timidly.  “I don’t even dispute it.”

At that instant Marya Nikolaevna came back.  Nikolay Levin looked round angrily at her.  She went quickly to him, and whispered something.

“I’m not well; I’ve grown irritable,” said Nikolay Levin, getting calmer and breathing painfully; “and then you talk to me of Sergey Ivanovitch and his article.  It’s such rubbish, such lying, such self-deception.  What can a man write of justice who knows nothing of it?  Have you read his article?” he asked Kritsky, sitting down again at the table, and moving back off half of it the scattered cigarettes, so as to clear a space.

“I’ve not read it,” Kritsky responded gloomily, obviously not desiring to enter into the conversation.

“Why not?” said Nikolay Levin, now turning with exasperation upon Kritsky.

“Because I didn’t see the use of wasting my time over it.”

“Oh, but excuse me, how did you know it would be wasting your time?  That article’s too deep for many people—­that’s to say it’s over their heads.  But with me, it’s another thing; I see through his ideas, and I know where its weakness lies.”

Everyone was mute.  Kritsky got up deliberately and reached his cap.

“Won’t you have supper?  All right, good-bye!  Come round tomorrow with the locksmith.”

Kritsky had hardly gone out when Nikolay Levin smiled and winked.

“He’s no good either,” he said.  “I see, of course...”

But at that instant Kritsky, at the door, called him...

“What do you want now?” he said, and went out to him in the passage.  Left alone with Marya Nikolaevna, Levin turned to her.

“Have you been long with my brother?” he said to her.

“Yes, more than a year.  Nikolay Dmitrievitch’s health has become very poor.  Nikolay Dmitrievitch drinks a great deal,” she said.