‘No, excuse me, but if you think this inequality is unjust, why don’t you act that way? ...’
‘I do act, only negatively, in the sense that I’m not going to try to increase the difference of situation that exists between him and me.’
‘No, excuse me now: that is a paradox.’
‘Yes, it’s a somewhat sophistic explanation,’ Veslovsky confirmed. ‘Ah, it’s our host!’ he said to the muzhik, who opened the creaking barn door and came in. ‘You’re not asleep yet?’
‘No, what sleep! I thought you gentlemen were asleep, but then I heard you talking. I need to get a hook here. He won’t bite?’ he added, stepping cautiously with bare feet.
‘And where are you going to sleep?’
‘We’re going to night pasture.’
‘Ah, what a night!’ said Veslovsky, looking at the end of the cottage and the unharnessed cart, visible in the faint light of the afterglow, through the big frame of the now open door. ‘Listen, those are women’s voices singing, and not badly at that. Who’s singing, my good man?’
‘Those are farm girls not far from here.’
‘Let’s take a stroll! We’re not going to fall asleep anyway. Come on, Oblonsky!’
‘If only it was possible to stay lying down and still go,’ Oblonsky answered, stretching. ‘It’s wonderful to be lying down.’
‘Then I’ll go by myself,’ said Veslovsky, getting up quickly and putting his boots on. ‘Goodbye, gentlemen. If it’s fun, I’ll call you. You treated me to game, and I won’t forget you.’
‘Isn’t he a nice fellow?’ said Oblonsky, when Veslovsky was gone and the muzhik had closed the door behind him.
‘Yes, nice,’ said Levin, still thinking about the subject of their conversation. It seemed to him that he had expressed his thoughts and feelings as clearly as he could, and yet the two of them, sincere and not stupid people, had told him in one voice that he was comforting himself with sophisms. That puzzled him.
‘There it is, my friend. It has to be one or the other: either admit that the present social arrangement is just and then defend your own rights, or admit that you enjoy certain unjust advantages, as I do, and enjoy them with pleasure.’
‘No, if it was unjust, you wouldn’t be able to enjoy those benefits with pleasure, at least I wouldn’t be able to. For me the main thing is to feel that I’m not at fault.’
‘But why not go, in fact?’ said Stepan Arkadyich, obviously weary from the strain of thinking. ‘We won’t sleep anyway. Really, let’s go!’
Levin did not reply. The remark he had made in their conversation, about acting justly only in the negative sense, preoccupied him. ‘Can one be just only negatively?’ he asked himself.
‘How strong the fresh hay smells, though!’ Stepan Arkadyich said, getting up. ‘I wouldn’t sleep for anything. Vasenka’s on to something there. Can you hear him laughing and talking? Why not go? Come on!’
‘No, I won’t go,’ replied Levin.
‘Can that also be on principle?’ Stepan Arkadyich said with a smile, searching for his cap in the dark.
‘Not on principle, but why should I go?’
‘You know, you’re going to make trouble for yourself,’ said Stepan Arkadyich, finding his cap and standing up.
‘Why?’
‘Don’t I see how you’ve set things up with your wife? I heard how it’s a question of the first importance with you whether or not you go hunting for two days. That’s all well and good as an idyll, but it’s not enough for a whole lifetime. A man must be independent, he has his manly interests. A man must be masculine,’ Oblonsky said, opening the door.
‘Meaning what? To go courting farm girls?’ asked Levin.
‘Why not, if it’s fun?
‘Maybe,’ Levin said drily and turned over on his side. ‘Tomorrow we must get an early start, and I’m not going to wake anybody up, I’ll just set out at dawn.’
Levin pretended to be asleep, but Oblonsky, having put on his shoes and lit a cigar, left the barn, and their voices soon died away.
