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Chapter 31.
Running halfway down the staircase, Levin caught a sound he
knew, a familiar cough in the hall. But he heard it indistinctly through
the sound of his own footsteps, and hoped he was mistaken. Then he
caught sight of a long, bony, familiar figure, and now it seemed there
was no possibility of mistake; and yet he still went on hoping that this
tall man taking off his fur cloak and coughing was not his brother
Nikolay.
Levin loved his brother, but being with him was always a torture.
Just now, when Levin, under the influence of the thoughts that had
come to him, and Agafea Mihalovna’s hint, was in a troubled and
uncertain humor, the meeting with his brother that he had to face
seemed particularly difficult. Instead of a lively, healthy visitor, some
outsider who would, he hoped, cheer him up in his uncertain humor, he
had to see his brother, who knew him through and through, who would
call forth all the thoughts nearest his heart, would force him to show
himself fully. And that he was not disposed to do.
Angry with himself for so base a feeling, Levin ran into the hall; as
soon as he had seen his brother close, this feeling of selfish disappoint-
ment vanished instantly and was replaced by pity. Terrible as his
brother Nikolay had been before in his emaciation and sickliness, now
he looked still more emaciated, still more wasted. He was a skeleton
covered with skin.
He stood in the hall, jerking his long thin neck, and pulling the scarf
off it, and smiled a strange and pitiful smile. When he saw that smile,
submissive and humble, Levin felt something clutching at his throat.
“You see, I’ve come to you,” said Nikolay in a thick voice, never for
one second taking his eyes off his brother’s face. “I’ve been meaning to
a long while, but I’ve been unwell all the time. Now I’m ever so much
better,” he said, rubbing his beard with his big thin hands.
“Yes, yes!” answered Levin. And he felt still more frightened when,
kissing him, he felt with his lips the dryness of his brother’s skin and
saw close to him his big eyes, full of a strange light.
A few weeks before, Konstantin Levin had written to his brother
that through the sale of the small part of the property, that had re-
mained undivided, there was a sum of about two thousand roubles to
come to him as his share.
Nikolay said that he had come now to take this money and, what
was more important, to stay a while in the old nest, to get in touch with
the earth, so as to renew his strength like the heroes of old for the work
that lay before him. In spite of his exaggerated stoop, and the emacia-
tion that was so striking from his height, his movements were as rapid
and abrupt as ever. Levin led him into his study.
His brother dressed with particular care—a thing he never used to
do—combed his scanty, lank hair, and, smiling, went upstairs.
He was in the most affectionate and good-humored mood, just as
Levin often remembered him in childhood. He even referred to Sergey
Ivanovitch without rancor. When he saw Agafea Mihalovna, he made
jokes with her and asked after the old servants. The news of the death
of Parfen Denisitch made a painful impression on him. A look of fear
crossed his face, but he regained his serenity immediately.