Levin, gazing at this tiny, pathetic being, made vain efforts to find some trace of paternal feeling in his soul. All he felt for him was squeamishness. But when he saw him naked, and glimpsed the thin, thin little arms, the legs, saffron-coloured, with toes and even with a big toe different from the others, and when he saw Lizaveta Petrovna press down those little arms, which kept popping up like soft springs, confining them in the linen clothes, he was overcome with such pity for this being, and such fear that she might harm him, that he held back her hand.
Lizaveta Petrovna laughed.
‘Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid!’
When the baby was tidied up and turned into a stiff little doll, Lizaveta Petrovna rocked him once, as if proud of her work, and drew back so that Levin could see his son in all his beauty.
Kitty, not taking her eyes away, looked sidelong in the same direction.
‘Give him here, give him here!’ she said and even rose slightly.
‘No, no, Katerina Alexandrovna, you mustn’t make such movements! Wait, I’ll bring him. Here, we’ll show papa what a fine fellow we are!’
And Lizaveta Petrovna held out to Levin on one hand (the other merely propping the unsteady head with its fingers) this strange, wobbly, red being whose head was hidden behind the edge of the swaddling-clothes. There was also a nose, crossed eyes and smacking lips.
‘A beautiful baby!’ said Lizaveta Petrovna.
Levin sighed with dismay. This beautiful baby inspired only a feeling of squeamishness and pity in him. It was not at all the feeling he had expected.
He turned away while Lizaveta Petrovna was putting him to the unaccustomed breast.
Suddenly laughter made him raise his head. It was Kitty laughing. The baby had taken the breast.
‘Well, enough, enough!’ said Lizaveta Petrovna, but Kitty would not let go of him. The baby fell asleep in her arms.
‘Look now,’ said Kitty, turning the baby towards him so that he could see him. The old-looking face suddenly wrinkled still more, and the baby sneezed.
Smiling and barely keeping back tears of tenderness, Levin kissed his wife and left the darkened room.
What he felt for this small being was not at all what he had expected. There was nothing happy or joyful in this feeling; on the contrary, there was a new tormenting fear. There was an awareness of a new region of vulnerability. And this awareness was so tormenting at first, the fear lest this helpless being should suffer was so strong, that because of it he scarcely noticed the strange feeling of senseless joy and even pride he had experienced when the baby sneezed.
XVII
Stepan Arkadyich’s affairs were in a bad state.
The money for two-thirds of the wood had already been run through, and he had taken from the merchant, after a discount of ten per cent, almost all the money for the final third. The merchant would not give more, especially since that winter Darya Alexandrovna, claiming a direct right to her own fortune for the first time, had refused to put her signature to the receipt of the money for the last third of the wood. His entire salary went on household expenses and the paying of small, ever present debts. They had no money at all.
