He had in no way expected what he saw and felt there. He had expected to find the same state of self-deception that, he had heard, occurs so often with consumptives and that had struck him so strongly during his brother’s visit in the autumn. He had expected to find the physical signs of approaching death more definite - greater weakness, greater emaciation - but still almost the same condition. He had expected that he himself would experience the same feeling of pity at losing his beloved brother and of horror in the face of death that he had experienced then, only to a greater degree. And he had been preparing himself for that; but he found something else entirely.
In a small, dirty room, with bespattered painted panels on the walls, divided by a thin partition behind which voices could be heard, in an atmosphere pervaded with a stifling smell of excrement, on a bed moved away from the wall, lay a blanket-covered body. One arm of this body lay on top of the blanket, and an enormous, rake-like hand was in some incomprehensible way attached to the long arm-bone, thin and straight from wrist to elbow. The head lay sideways on the pillow. Levin could see the sweaty, thin hair on the temples and the taut, as if transparent, forehead.
‘It cannot be that this terrible body is my brother Nikolai,’ Levin thought. But he came nearer, saw the face, and doubt was no longer possible. Despite the terrible change in the face, Levin had only to look into those living eyes raised to him as he entered, notice the slight movement of the mouth under the matted moustache, to realize the terrible truth, that this dead body was his living brother.
The shining eyes looked sternly and reproachfully at the brother coming in. And that look at once established a living relation between the living. Levin at once felt the reproach in the glance directed at him and remorse for his own happiness.
When Konstantin took his hand, Nikolai smiled. The smile was faint, barely perceptible, and, in spite of it, the stern expression of the eyes did not change.
‘You didn’t expect to find me like this,’ he brought out with difficulty.
‘Yes... no,’ said Levin, stumbling over his words. ‘Why didn’t you let me know earlier, I mean back at the time of my wedding? I made inquiries everywhere.’
He had to speak so as not to be silent, but he did not know what to say, especially as his brother did not respond but only stared without taking his eyes off him, apparently trying to grasp the meaning of each word. Levin told his brother that his wife had come with him. Nikolai expressed satisfaction but said he was afraid to frighten her by his condition. A silence followed. Suddenly Nikolai stirred and began to say something. From the expression of his face, Levin expected something especially meaningful and important, but Nikolai spoke of his health. He accused the doctor, regretted that the famous Moscow doctor was not there, and Levin realized that he still had hope.
Profiting from the first moment of silence, Levin stood up, wishing to get rid of the painful feeling at least for a moment, and said he would go and bring his wife.
‘Very well, and I’ll have things cleaned up here. It’s dirty here and I suppose it stinks. Masha, tidy up here!’the sick man said with difficulty. ‘And once you’ve finished, go away,’ he added, looking questioningly at his brother.
Levin made no reply. He went out to the corridor and stopped. He had said he would bring his wife, but now, aware of the feeling he had experienced, he decided, on the contrary, to try to persuade her not to go to see the sick man. ‘Why should she suffer as I do?’ he thought.
‘Well, how is he?’ Kitty asked with a frightened face.
‘Ah, it’s terrible, terrible! Why did you come?’ said Levin.
Kitty was silent for a few seconds, looking timidly and pityingly at her husband; then she went up to him and took him by the elbow with both hands.
‘Kostya, take me to him, it will be easier with two of us. Just take me there, take me, please, and leave,’ she began. ‘You must understand that for me to see you and not see him is much harder. There I might perhaps be of use to you and to him. Please, let me!’ she implored her husband, as if the happiness of her life depended on it.
Levin had to consent, and, recovering himself and forgetting all about Marya Nikolaevna, he went back to his brother with Kitty.
With a light tread, glancing constantly at her husband and showing him a brave and compassionate face, she went into the sick man’s room and, turning without haste, noiselessly closed the door behind her. With inaudible steps she quickly approached the sick man’s bed, and, placing herself so that he would not have to turn his head, at once took in her fresh, young hand the skeleton of his enormous hand, pressed it, and began talking to him with that unoffending and sympathetic animation peculiar only to women.
‘We met at Soden but didn’t become acquainted,’ she said. ‘You never thought I’d be your sister.’
