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him in it, and was exasperated at it.
The third day Nikolay induced his brother to explain his plan to
him again, and began not merely attacking it, but intentionally con-
founding it with communism.
“You’ve simply borrowed an idea that’s not your own, but you’ve
distorted it, and are trying to apply it where it’s not applicable.”
“But I tell you it’s nothing to do with it. They deny the justice of
property, of capital, of inheritance, while I do not deny this chief stimu-
lus.” (Levin felt disgusted himself at using such expressions, but ever
since he had been engrossed by his work, he had unconsciously come
more and more frequently to use words not Russian.) “All I want is to
regulate labor.”
“Which means, you’ve borrowed an idea, stripped it of all that gave
it its force, and want to make believe that it’s something new,” said
Nikolay, angrily tugging at his necktie.
“But my idea has nothing in common...”
“That, anyway,” said Nikolay Levin, with an ironical smile, his eyes
flashing malignantly, “has the charm of—what’s one to call it?—geo-
metrical symmetry, of clearness, of definiteness. It may be a Utopia.
But if once one allows the possibility of making of all the past a tabula
rasa—no property, no family— then labor would organize itself. But
you gain nothing...”
“Why do you mix things up? I’ve never been a communist.”
“But I have, and I consider it’s premature, but rational, and it has a
future, just like Christianity in its first ages.”
“All that I maintain is that the labor force ought to be investigated
from the point of view of natural science; that is to say, it ought to be
studied, its qualities ascertained...”
“But that’s utter waste of time. That force finds a certain form of
activity of itself, according to the stage of its development. There have
been slaves first everywhere, then metayers; and we have the half-
crop system, rent, and day laborers. What are you trying to find?”
Levin suddenly lost his temper at these words, because at the
bottom of his heart he was afraid that it was true—true that he was
trying to hold the balance even between communism and the familiar
forms, and that this was hardly possible.
“I am trying to find means of working productively for myself and
for the laborers. I want to organize...” he answered hotly.
“You don’t want to organize anything; it’s simply just as you’ve
been all your life, that you want to be original to pose as not exploiting
the peasants simply, but with some idea in view.”
“Oh, all right, that’s what you think—and let me alone!” answered
Levin, feeling the muscles of his left cheek twitching uncontrollably.
“You’ve never had, and never have, convictions; all you want is to
please your vanity.”
“Oh, very well; then let me alone!”
“And I will let you alone! and it’s high time I did, and go to the devil
with you! and I’m very sorry I ever came!”
In spite of all Levin’s efforts to soothe his brother afterwards, Nikolay
would listen to nothing he said, declaring that it was better to part, and
Konstantin saw that it simply was that life was unbearable to him.
Nikolay was just getting ready to go, when Konstantin went in to
him again and begged him, rather unnaturally, to forgive him if he had
hurt his feelings in any way.
“Ah, generosity!” said Nikolay, and he smiled. “If you want to be
right, I can give you that satisfaction. You’re in the right;
but I’m going all the same.”
It was only just at parting that Nikolay kissed him, and said, looking