action, of biology, of sociology, and those touching the significance of life and of death for himself, which had of late been more and more engaging his attention.
As he listened to the discussion between his brother and the professor, he noticed that they agreed to a certain kinship between scientific and psychological questions, that several times they almost took up this subject; but each time that they came near what seemed to him the most important question of all, they instantly took pains to avoid it, and sought refuge in the domain of subtile distinctions, explanations, citations, references to authorities, and he found it hard to understand what they were talking about.
"I cannot accept the theory of Keis," said Sergeï Ivanovitch in his characteristically elegant and correct diction and expression, "and I cannot at all admit that my whole conception of the exterior world is derived from my sensations. The most fundamental concept of being does not arise from the senses, nor is there any special organ by which this conception is produced."
"Yes; but Wurst and Knaust and Pripasof will reply that your consciousness of existence is derived from an accumulation of all sensations, that it is only the result of sensations. Wurst himself says explicitly that where sensation does not exist, there is no consciousness of existence."
"I will say, on the other hand ...." began Sergeï Ivanovitch. ....
But here Levin noticed that, just as they were about to touch the root of the whole matter, they again steered clear of it, and he determined to put the following question to the professor.
"Suppose my sensations ceased, if my body were dead, would further existence be possible?"
The professor, with some vexation, and, as it were, intellectual anger at this interruption, looked at the strange questioner as if he took him for a clown rather than a philosopher, and turned his eyes to Sergeï Ivanovitch as if to ask, "What does this man mean?"
