replied Oblonsky. He unbuttoned his paletot, then took it off, and stayed a whole hour to talk with Levin about the hunt and other subjects.
"Well now! Tell me, please, what you did while you were abroad; where have you been?" he asked after the peasant had gone.
"I went to Germany, to France, and England, but only to the manufacturing centers, and not to the capitals. I saw a great deal that was new. I am glad I went."
"Yes, yes, I know your ideas about organized labor."
"Oh, no! in Russia there can be no labor question. The question of the workingman does n't concern us; the only important question for Russia is the relation of the workman to the soil; the question exists there, but it is impossible to remedy it there, while here ...."
Oblonsky listened attentively.
"Yes, yes," said he, "it is possible that you are right, but I am glad that you are in better spirits; you hunt the bear, you work, you are enthusiastic. Shcherbatsky told me that he had found you blue and melancholy, talking of nothing but death." ....
"What of that? I am continually thinking of death," replied Levin. "It's true that there is a time to die, and that all is vanity. But I will tell you honestly I set great value on my thought and work; but think of this world—just take notice!—this world of ours, a little mold making the smallest of the planets! and we imagine that our ideas, our works, are something grand. It's all grains of dust!" ....
"All that is as old as the hills, brother!"
"It is old; but you see when this idea becomes clear to us, how miserable life seems! When we know that death will surely come, and that there will be nothing left of us, the most important things seem as insignificant as the turning over of this bear-skin. And so in order to keep away thoughts of death, we hunt and work and try to divert ourselves."
Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled, and gave Levin one of his affectionate looks.
