# Anna Karenina (Dole)/Part One/Chapter 27

CHAPTER XXVII
Levin's house was old and large, but, though he lived there alone, he occupied and warmed the whole of it. He knew that this was ridiculous; he knew that it was bad, and contrary to his new plans; but this house was a world in itself to him. It was a world where his father and mother had lived and died. They had lived a life which, for Levin, seemed the ideal of all perfection, and which he dreamed of renewing with his own wife, with his own family.
Levin scarcely remembered his mother. But this remembrance was sacred; and his future wife, as he imagined her, was to be the counterpart of the ideally charming and adorable woman, his mother. For him, love for a woman could not exist outside of marriage; but he imagined the family relationship first, and only afterwards the woman who would be the center of the family. His ideas about marriage were therefore essentially different from those held by the majority of his friends, for whom it was only one of innumerable social affairs; for Levin it was the most important act of his life, whereon all his happiness depended, and now he must renounce it!
When he entered the little parlor where he always took tea, and threw himself into his arm-chair with a book, while Agafya Mikhaïlovna brought him his cup, and sat down near the window, saying as usual, "Well, I'll sit down, batyushka,"—then he felt, strangely enough, that he had not renounced his day-dreams, and that he could not live without them. Were it Kitty or another, still it would be. He read his book, had his mind on what he was reading, pausing occasionally to ​listen to Agafya Mikhaïlovna's unceasing prattle, but his imagination was all the time filled with those varied pictures of family happiness which hovered before him. He felt that in the depths of his soul some change, some modification, some crystallization, was taking place.
He listened while Agafya Mikhaïlovna told how Prokhor had forgotten God, and, instead of buying a horse with the money which Levin had given him, had taken it and gone on a spree, and beaten his wife almost to death; and while he listened he read his book, and again caught the thread of his thoughts, awakened by his reading. It was a book by Tyndall, on heat. He remembered his criticisms on Tyndall's self-satisfaction in the cleverness of his management of his experiments and on his lack of philosophical views, and suddenly a happy thought crossed his mind:—
"In two years I shall have two Holland cows; perhaps Pava herself will still be alive, and possibly a dozen of Berkut's daughters will have been added to the herd, just from these three! Splendid!"
And again he picked up his book.
"Well! very good: electricity and heat are one and the same thing; but could one quantity take the place of the other in the equations used to settle this problem? No. What then? The bond between all the forces of nature is felt, like instinct. .... When Pava's daughter grows into a cow with red and white spots, what a herd I shall have with those three! Admirable! And my wife and I will go out with our guests to see the herd come in; .... and my wife will say, 'Kostia and I have brought this calf up just like a child.'—'How can this interest you so?' the guests will say. 'All that interests him interests me also.' .... But who will she be?" and he began to think of what had happened in Moscow.—"Well! What is to be done about it? .... I am not to blame. But now everything will be different. It is foolishness to let one's past life dominate the present. One must struggle to live better—much better." ....
He raised his head, and sank into thought. Old Laska, who had not yet got over her delight at her ​master's return, had been barking up and down the courtyard. She came into the room, wagging her tail, and bringing the freshness of the open air, and thrust her head under his hand, and begged for a caress, whining plaintively.
"She almost talks," said Agafya Mikhaïlovna; "she is only a dog, but she knows just as well that her master has come home, and is sad."
"Why sad?"
"Da! don't I see it, batyushka? It's time I knew how to read my masters. Grew up with my masters since they were children! No matter, batyushka; your health is good and your conscience pure."
Levin looked at her earnestly, in astonishment that she so divined his thoughts.
"And shall I give you some more tea?" said she; and taking the cup, she went out.
Laska continued to nestle her head in her master's hand. He caressed her, and then she curled herself up around his feet, like a ring, laying her head on one of her hind paws; and, as a proof that all was arranged to suit her, she opened her mouth a little, let her tongue slip out between her aged teeth, and, with a gentle puffing of her lips, gave herself up to beatific repose. Levin followed all of her movements.
"So will I!" he said to himself; "so will I! no matter! all will be well!"