The meeting had already begun. Round the cloth-covered table, at which
Katavasov and Metrov seated themselves, there were some half-dozen
persons, and one of these was bending close over a manuscript, reading
something aloud. Levin sat down in one of the empty chairs that were
standing round the table, and in a whisper asked a student sitting near what
was being read. The student, eyeing Levin with displeasure, said:
“Biography.”
Though Levin was not interested in the biography, he could not help
listening, and learned some new and interesting facts about the life of the
distinguished man of science.
When the reader had finished, the chairman thanked him and read some
verses of the poet Ment sent him on the jubilee, and said a few words by
way of thanks to the poet. Then Katavasov in his loud, ringing voice read
his address on the scientific labors of the man whose jubilee was being
kept.
When Katavasov had finished, Levin looked at his watch, saw it was past
one, and thought that there would not be time before the concert to read
Metrov his book, and indeed, he did not now care to do so. During the
reading he had thought over their conversation. He saw distinctly now that
though Metrov’s ideas might perhaps have value, his own ideas had a value
too, and their ideas could only be made clear and lead to something if each
worked separately in his chosen path, and that nothing would be gained by
putting their ideas together. And having made up his mind to refuse
Metrov’s invitation, Levin went up to him at the end of the meeting. Metrov
introduced Levin to the chairman, with whom he was talking of the political
news. Metrov told the chairman what he had already told Levin, and Levin
made the same remarks on his news that he had already made that morning,
but for the sake of variety he expressed also a new opinion which had only
just struck him. After that the conversation turned again on the university
question. As Levin had already heard it all, he made haste to tell Metrov
that he was sorry he could not take advantage of his invitation, took leave,
and drove to Lvov’s.
Chapter 4
Lvov, the husband of Natalia, Kitty’s sister, had spent all his life in
foreign capitals, where he had been educated, and had been in the
diplomatic service.
During the previous year he had left the diplomatic service, not owing to
any “unpleasantness” (he never had any “unpleasantness” with anyone),
and was transferred to the department of the court of the palace in Moscow,
in order to give his two boys the best education possible.
In spite of the striking contrast in their habits and views and the fact that
Lvov was older than Levin, they had seen a great deal of one another that
winter, and had taken a great liking to each other.
Lvov was at home, and Levin went in to him unannounced.
Lvov, in a house coat with a belt and in chamois leather shoes, was
sitting in an armchair, and with a pince-nez with blue glasses he was
reading a book that stood on a reading desk, while in his beautiful hand he
held a half-burned cigarette daintily away from him.
His handsome, delicate, and still youthful-looking face, to which his
curly, glistening silvery hair gave a still more aristocratic air, lighted up
with a smile when he saw Levin.
“Capital! I was meaning to send to you. How’s Kitty? Sit here, it’s more
comfortable.” He got up and pushed up a rocking chair. “Have you read the
last circular in the Journal de St. Pétersbourg? I think it’s excellent,” he
said, with a slight French accent.
Levin told him what he had heard from Katavasov was being said in
Petersburg, and after talking a little about politics, he told him of his
interview with Metrov, and the learned society’s meeting. To Lvov it was
very interesting.
“That’s what I envy you, that you are able to mix in these interesting
scientific circles,” he said. And as he talked, he passed as usual into French,
which was easier to him. “It’s true I haven’t the time for it. My official
work and the children leave me no time; and then I’m not ashamed to own
that my education has been too defective.”
“That I don’t believe,” said Levin with a smile, feeling, as he always did,
touched at Lvov’s low opinion of himself, which was not in the least put on
from a desire to seem or to be modest, but was absolutely sincere.
“Oh, yes, indeed! I feel now how badly educated I am. To educate my
children I positively have to look up a great deal, and in fact simply to study
myself. For it’s not enough to have teachers, there must be someone to look
after them, just as on your land you want laborers and an overseer. See what
I’m reading”—he pointed to Buslaev’s Grammar on the desk—“it’s
expected of Misha, and it’s so difficult…. Come, explain to me…. Here he
says….”
Levin tried to explain to him that it couldn’t be understood, but that it had
to be taught; but Lvov would not agree with him.
“Oh, you’re laughing at it!”
“On the contrary, you can’t imagine how, when I look at you, I’m always
learning the task that lies before me, that is the education of one’s children.”
“Well, there’s nothing for you to learn,” said Lvov.
“All I know,” said Levin, “is that I have never seen better brought-up
children than yours, and I wouldn’t wish for children better than yours.”
Lvov visibly tried to restrain the expression of his delight, but he was
positively radiant with smiles.
“If only they’re better than I! That’s all I desire. You don’t know yet all
the work,” he said, “with boys who’ve been left like mine to run wild
abroad.”
“You’ll catch all that up. They’re such clever children. The great thing is
the education of character. That’s what I learn when I look at your
children.”
“You talk of the education of character. You can’t imagine how difficult
that is! You have hardly succeeded in combating one tendency when others
crop up, and the struggle begins again. If one had not a support in religion
—you remember we talked about that—no father could bring children up
relying on his own strength alone without that help.”
This subject, which always interested Levin, was cut short by the
entrance of the beauty Natalia Alexandrovna, dressed to go out.
“I didn’t know you were here,” she said, unmistakably feeling no regret,
but a positive pleasure, in interrupting this conversation on a topic she had
heard so much of that she was by now weary of it. “Well, how is Kitty? I
am dining with you today. I tell you what, Arseny,” she turned to her
husband, “you take the carriage.”
And the husband and wife began to discuss their arrangements for the
day. As the husband had to drive to meet someone on official business,
while the wife had to go to the concert and some public meeting of a
committee on the Eastern Question, there was a great deal to consider and
settle. Levin had to take part in their plans as one of themselves. It was
settled that Levin should go with Natalia to the concert and the meeting,
and that from there they should send the carriage to the office for Arseny,
and he should call for her and take her to Kitty’s; or that, if he had not
finished his work, he should send the carriage back and Levin would go
with her.
“He’s spoiling me,” Lvov said to his wife; “he assures me that our
children are splendid, when I know how much that’s bad there is in them.”
“Arseny goes to extremes, I always say,” said his wife. “If you look for
perfection, you will never be satisfied. And it’s true, as papa says,—that
when we were brought up there was one extreme—we were kept in the
basement, while our parents lived in the best rooms; now it’s just the other
way—the parents are in the wash house, while the children are in the best
rooms. Parents now are not expected to live at all, but to exist altogether for
their children.”
“Well, what if they like it better?” Lvov said, with his beautiful smile,
touching her hand. “Anyone who didn’t know you would think you were a
stepmother, not a true mother.”
“No, extremes are not good in anything,” Natalia said serenely, putting
his paper-knife straight in its proper place on the table.
“Well, come here, you perfect children,” Lvov said to the two handsome
boys who came in, and after bowing to Levin, went up to their father,
obviously wishing to ask him about something.
Levin would have liked to talk to them, to hear what they would say to
their father, but Natalia began talking to him, and then Lvov’s colleague in
the service, Mahotin, walked in, wearing his court uniform, to go with him
to meet someone, and a conversation was kept up without a break upon
Herzegovina, Princess Korzinskaya, the town council, and the sudden death
of Madame Apraksina.
Levin even forgot the commission intrusted to him. He recollected it as
he was going into the hall.
