‘Good gracious, nowadays stealing’s positively impossible. Everything nowadays is finally in the open courts, everything’s noble today; there’s no more of that stealing. We talked honest. He asked too much for the wood, it doesn’t tally. I beg you to come down at least a little.’
‘But have you concluded the deal or not? If you have, there’s no point in bargaining. If you haven’t,’ said Levin, ‘I’ll buy the wood myself.’
The smile suddenly vanished from Ryabinin’s face. A hawk-like, predatory and hard expression settled on it. With quick, bony fingers he undid his frock coat, revealing a shirt not tucked in, a brass-buttoned waistcoat and a watch chain, and quickly took out a fat old pocket-book.
‘If you please, the wood is mine,’ he said, quickly crossing himself and holding out his hand. ‘Take the money, the wood is mine. That’s how Ryabinin buys, without counting pennies,’ he went on, frowning and brandishing the pocket-book.
‘I wouldn’t be in a hurry if I were you,’ said Levin.
‘Gracious,’ Oblonsky said in surprise, ‘I’ve given him my word.’
Levin left the room, slamming the door. Ryabinin, looking at the door, shook his head with a smile.
‘It’s all on account of youth, nothing but childishness finally. I’m buying it, trust my honour, just for the glory alone, meaning that it was Ryabinin and nobody else who bought a grove from Oblonsky. And God grant it tallies up. Trust in God. If you please, sir. Write me out a receipt ...’
An hour later the merchant, neatly closing his robe and fastening the hooks of his frock coat, the receipt in his pocket, got into his tightly bound little gig and drove home.
‘Ah, these gentlemen!’ he said to his clerk, ‘all the same subject.’
‘That’s so,’ the clerk replied, handing him the reins and fastening the leather apron. ‘So it’s congratulations, Mikhail Ignatyich?’
‘Well, well ...’
XVII
Stepan Arkadyich came upstairs, his pocket bulging with the bank notes that the merchant had given him for three months ahead. The business with the wood was concluded, the money was in his pocket, the fowling had been splendid, and Stepan Arkadyich was in the merriest spirits, and therefore he especially wanted to dispel the bad mood that had come over Levin. He wanted to end the day over supper as pleasantly as it had begun.
Indeed, Levin was out of sorts and, in spite of all his desire to be gentle and amiable with his dear guest, he could not master himself. The intoxication of the news that Kitty was not married had begun to affect him.
Kitty was unmarried and ill, ill from love for a man who had scorned her. This insult seemed to fall upon him. Vronsky had scorned her, and she had scorned him, Levin. Consequently, Vronsky had the right to despise Levin and was therefore his enemy. But Levin did not think all that. He vaguely felt that there was something insulting to him in it, and now was not angry at what had upset him but was finding fault with everything he came across. The stupid sale of the wood, the swindle Oblonsky had fallen for, which had taken place in his house, annoyed him.
‘Well, so it’s concluded?’ he said, meeting Stepan Arkadyich upstairs. ‘Want to have supper?’
‘Yes, I won’t refuse. What an appetite I have in the country, it’s a wonder! Why didn’t you offer Ryabinin a bite to eat?’
‘Ah, devil take him!’
‘How you treat him, though!’ said Oblonsky. ‘You didn’t shake hands with him. Why not shake hands with him?’
‘Because I don’t shake hands with my footman, and my footman is a hundred times better.’
‘What a reactionary you are, though! What about the merging of the classes?’ said Oblonsky.
‘Whoever likes merging is welcome to it. I find it disgusting.’
‘I see, you’re decidedly a reactionary.’
‘Really, I’ve never thought about what I am. I’m Konstantin Levin, nothing more.’
‘And a Konstantin Levin who is badly out of sorts,’ said Stepan Arkadyich, smiling.
‘Yes, I’m out of sorts, and do you know why? Because of - forgive me — your stupid sale ...’
Stepan Arkadyich winced good-naturedly, like a man hurt and upset without cause.
‘Well, come now!’ he said. ‘When did it ever happen that somebody sold something without being told right after the sale: “It was worth a lot more”? But while it’s for sale, no one offers ... No, I see you have a bone to pick with this unfortunate Ryabinin.’
