is not there; he must have gone to his bees. Sometimes it disturbs me to have him spend so much time over them; but then, on the whole, I am glad; it diverts him, and he is certainly more cheerful than he was in the spring. Then he was so gloomy, and so unhappy! What a strange man he is!"
Kitty knew what caused her husband's disquiet. It was his doubting spirit; and although, if she had been asked if she believed that, in the world to come, he would fail of salvation owing to his want of faith, she would have been compelled to say yes, yet his skepticism did not make her unhappy; and she, who believed that there was no salvation for the unbelieving, and loved more than all else in the world her husband's soul, smiled as she thought of his skepticism, and called him a strange man.
"Why does he spend all his time reading those philosophical books? If all this is written in those books, then he can understand them. But if it is not true, why does he read them? He himself says that he longs for faith. Why does n't he believe? Probably he thinks too much; and he thinks too much because he is lonely. He is always alone. He can't speak out all his thoughts to us. I think he will be glad that these guests have come, especially Katavasof. He likes to discuss with him."
And immediately Kitty's thoughts were diverted by the question where it would be best for Katavasof to sleep. Ought he and Sergyeï Ivanovitch to have a room together or apart? And here a sudden thought made her start, so that she disturbed Mitya, who opened his eyes and looked at her reproachfully.
"The washerwoman has n't brought back the linen. I hope Agafya Mikhaïlovna has n't given out all we had!" and the color rushed to Kitty's forehead.
"There, I must find out myself," thought she; and, reverting to her former thoughts, she remembered that she had not finished the important train of spiritual thoughts which she had begun, and she once more repeated:—
