# Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 25

CHAPTER XXV
"As you see," continued Nikolaï Levin, frowning, and speaking with effort. It was evidently hard for him to make up his mind what to do or say. "But do you see?" .... and he pointed to the corner of the room, where lay some iron bars attached to straps. "Do you see that? That is the beginning of a new work which ​we are undertaking. This work belongs to a productive labor association." ....
Konstantin scarcely listened: he was looking at his brother's sick, consumptive face, and he grew more and more sorry for him, and he could not compel himself to listen to what his brother was saying about the labor association. He saw that the labor association was only an anchor of safety to keep him from absolute self-abasement. Nikolaï went on to say:—
"You know that capital is crushing the laborer: with us the laboring classes, the muzhiks, bear the whole weight of toil; and no matter how they exert themselves, they can never get above their cattle-like condition. All the profits created by their productive labor, by which they could better their lot and procure for themselves leisure, and therefore instruction, all their superfluous profits are swallowed up by the capitalists. And society is so constituted that, the harder they work, the more the proprietors and the merchants fatten at their expense, while they remain beasts of burden still. And this order of things must be changed," said he, in conclusion, and looked questioningly at his brother.
"Yes, of course," replied Konstantin, looking at the pink spots which burned in his brother's hollow cheeks.
"And now we are organizing an artel of locksmiths where all will be in common,—work, profits, and even the tools."
"Where will this artel be situated?" asked Konstantin.
"In the village of Vozdremo, government of Kazan."
"Yes; but why in a village? In the villages, it seems to me, there is plenty of work: why associated locksmiths in a village?"
"Because the muzhiks are serfs, just as much as they ever were, and you and Sergeï Ivanuitch don't like it because we want to free them from this slavery," replied Nikolaï, vexed by his brother's question.
While he spoke, Konstantin was looking about the melancholy, dirty room; he sighed, and his sigh seemed to make Nikolaï still more angry.
​"I know the aristocratic prejudices of such men as you and Sergeï Ivanuitch. I know that he is spending all the strength of his mind in defense of the evils that crush us."
"No! but why do you speak of Sergeï Ivanuitch?" asked Levin, smiling.
"Sergeï Ivanuitch? This is why!" cried Nikolaï, at the mention of Sergeï Ivanuitch—"this is why! .... yet what is the good? tell me this—what did you come here for? You despise all this; very good! Go away, for God's sake," he cried, rising from his chair,—"go away! go away!"
"I don't despise anything," said Konstantin, gently; "I only refrain from discussing."
At this moment Marya Nikolayevna came in. Nikolaï looked at her angrily, but she quickly stepped up to him and whispered a few words in his ear.
"I am not well, I easily become irritable," he explained, growing calmer, and breathing with difificulty, "and you just spoke to me about Sergeï Ivanuitch and his article. It is so rubbishy, so idle, so full of error. How can a man, who knows nothing about justice, write about it? Have you read his article?" said he, turning to Kritsky, and then, going to the table, he brushed off the half-rolled cigarettes so as to clear away a little space.
"I have not read it," replied Kritsky, gloomily, evidently not wishing to take part in the conversation.
"Why?" cried Nikolaï, irritably, still addressing Kritsky.
"Because I don't consider it necessary to waste my time on it."
"That is, excuse me—how do you know that it would be a waste of time? For many people this article is inaccessible, because it is above them. But I find it different; I see the thoughts through and through, and know wherein it is weak."
No one replied. Kritsky slowly arose, and took his hat.
"Won't you take some lunch? Well, good-by! Come to-morrow with the locksmith."
​Kritsky had hardly left the room, when Nikolaï smiled and winked.
"He is to be pitied; but I see .... "
Just at that instant Kritsky, calling at the door, interrupted him.
"What do you want?" he asked, joining him in the corridor.
Left alone with Marya Nikolayevna, Levin said to her:—
"Have you been long with my brother?"
"This is the second year. His health has become very feeble; he drinks a great deal," she said.
"What do you mean?"
"He drinks vodka, and it is bad for him."
"Does he drink too much?"
"Yes," said she, looking timidly toward the door where Nikolaï Levin was just entering.
"What were you talking about?" he demanded, with a scowl, and looking from one to the other with angry eyes. "Tell me."
"Oh! nothing," replied Konstantin, in confusion.
"You don't want to answer? all right! don't. But you have no business to be talking with her; she is a girl, you a gentleman," he shouted, craning out his neck. "I see that you have understood everything, and judged everything, and that you look with grief on the errors of my ways."
He went on speaking, raising his voice.
"Nikolaï Dmitritch! Nikolaï Dmitritch!" whispered Marya Nikolayevna, coming close to him.
"Well! very good, very good. .... Supper, then? ah! here it is," he said, seeing a servant entering with a platter.
"Here! put it here!" he said crossly; then, taking the vodka, he poured out a glass, and drank it eagerly.
"Will you have a drink?" he asked his brother, immediately growing lively.
"Well! no more about Sergeï Ivanuitch! I am very glad to see you. No matter what people say, we are no longer strangers. Come now! drink! Tell me what ​you are doing," he said, greedily munching a piece of bread, and pouring out a second glass. "How are you living?"
"I live alone in the country, as I always have, and busy myself with farming," replied Konstantin, looking with terror at the eagerness with which his brother ate and drank, and trying to hide his impressions.
"Why don't you get married?"
"I have not come to that yet," replied Konstantin, turning red.
"Why so? For me—it's all over! I have wasted my life! This I have said, and always shall say, that, if they had given me my share of the estate when I needed it, my whole life would have been different."
Konstantin hastened to change the conversation.
"Did you know that your Vanyushka is with me at Pokrovskoye as book-keeper?" he said.
Nikolaï craned out his neck and wondered.
"Yes, tell me what is doing at Pokrovskoye. Is the house just the same? and the birch trees and our study room? Is Filipp, the gardener, still alive? How I remember the summer-house and the divan! .... Just look here! don't let anything in the house be changed, but hurry up and get married and begin to live as you used to. Then I will come to visit you if your wife will be kind."
"Then come back with me now," said Konstantin. "How well we should get on together!"
"I would come if I knew I should not meet Sergeï Ivanuitch."
"You would not meet him; I live absolutely independent of him."
"Yes; but, whatever you say, you must choose between him and me," said Nikolaï, looking timorously in his brother's eyes.
This timidity touched Konstantin.
"If you want to hear my whole confession as to this matter, I will tell you that I take sides neither with you nor with him in your quarrel. You are both in the ​wrong; but in your case the wrong is external, while in his the wrong is inward."
"Ha, ha! Do you understand it? do you understand it?" cried Nikolaï, with an expression of joy.
"But if you would like to know, personally I value your friendship higher because .... "
"Why? why?"
Konstantin could not say that it was because Nikolaï was wretched, and needed his friendship; but Nikolaï understood that that was the very thing he meant, and, frowning darkly, he betook himself to the vodka.
"Enough, Nikolaï Dmitritch!" cried Marya Nikolayevna, laying her great pudgy hand on the decanter.
"Let me alone! don't bother me, or I'll strike you," he cried.
Marya Nikolayevna smiled with her gentle and good-natured smile, which pacified Nikolaï, and she took the vodka.
"There! Do you think that she does not understand things?" said Nikolaï. "She understands this thing better than all of you. Is n't there something about her good and gentle?"
"Have n't you ever been in Moscow before?" said Konstantin, in order to say something to her.
"There now, don't say vui [you] to her. It frightens her. No one said vui to her except the justice of the peace, when they had her up because she wanted to escape from the house of ill-fame where she was. My God! how senseless everything is in this world!" he suddenly exclaimed. "These new institutions, these justices of the peace, the zemstro, what abominations!"
And he began to relate his experiences with the new institutions.
Konstantin listened to him; and the criticisms on the absurdity of the new institutions, which he had himself often expressed, now that he heard them from his brother's lips, seemed disagreeable to him.
"We shall understand it all in the next world," he said jestingly.
"In the next world? Och! I don't like your next ​world; I don't like it," he repeated, fixing his timid, haggard eyes on his brother's face. "And yet it would seem good to go from these abominations, these entanglements, from this unnatural state of things, from myself; but I am afraid of death, horribly afraid of death!" He shuddered. "There! drink something! Would you like some champagne? or would you rather go out somewhere? Let's go and see the gipsies. You know I am very fond of gipsies and Russian songs."
His speech had begun to grow thick, and he hurried from one subject to another. Konstantin, with Masha's aid, persuaded him to stay at home; and they put him on his bed completely drunk.
Masha promised to write Konstantin in case of need, and to persuade Nikolaï Levin to come and live with his brother.