"Is he at home?"
"Probably."
The door of No. 12 was half open, and from the room came the dense fumes of cheap, poor tobacco, and a voice unknown to Levin was heard speaking; but Levin instantly knew his brother was there; he recognized his cough.
When he reached the door, the unknown voice was saying:—
"All depends on whether the affair is conducted in a proper and rational manner."
Konstantin Levin glanced through the doorway, and saw that the speaker was a young man, in a peasant's sleeveless coat, and with an enormous mop of hair on his head. On the divan was sitting a young woman, with pock-marked face, and dressed in a woolen gown without collar or cuffs. His brother was not to be seen. A pain shot through Konstantin's heart to think of the strange people with whom his brother associated. No one heard him; and, while he was removing his galoshes, he listened to what the man in the sleeveless coat was saying. He was speaking of some enterprise.
"Well! the Devil take the privileged classes!" said his brother's voice, after a fit of coughing. "Masha, see if you can't get us something to eat, and bring some wine if there's any left; if not, go for some."
The woman arose, and as she came out from behind the screen she saw Konstantin.
"A gentleman here, Nikolaï Dmitritch," she cried.
"What is wanted?" said the voice of Nikolaï Levin, angrily.
"It's I," replied Konstantin, appearing at the door.
"Who's I?" repeated Nikolaï's voice, still more angrily.
Then he was heard quickly rising and stumbling against something, and Konstantin saw before him at the door his brother's well-known figure, still remarkable by reason of his shyness and ill health—infirm, tall, thin, and bent, with great startled eyes.
He was still thinner than when Konstantin had last
