‘Wait, wait,’ he began, interrupting Oblonsky. ‘Aristocratism, you say. But allow me to ask, what makes up this aristocratism of Vronsky or whoever else it may be - such aristocratism that I can be scorned? You consider Vronsky an aristocrat, but I don’t. A man whose father crept out of nothing by wiliness, whose mother, God knows who she didn’t have liaisons with ... No, excuse me, but I consider myself an aristocrat and people like myself, who can point to three or four honest generations in their families’ past, who had a high degree of education (talent and intelligence are another thing), and who never lowered themselves before anyone, never depended on anyone, as my father lived, and my grandfather. And I know many like that. You find it mean that I count the trees in the forest, while you give away thirty thousand to Ryabinin; but you’ll have rent coming in and I don’t know what else, while I won’t, and so I value what I’ve inherited and worked for ... We’re the aristocrats, and not someone who can only exist on hand-outs from the mighty of this world and can be bought for twenty kopecks.’
‘But who are you attacking? I agree with you,’ Stepan Arkadyich said sincerely and cheerfully, though he felt that Levin included him among those who could be bought for twenty kopecks. He sincerely liked Levin’s animation. ‘Who are you attacking? Though much of what you say about Vronsky is untrue, that’s not what I’m talking about. I’ll tell you straight out, if I were you I’d go with me to Moscow and ...’
‘No, I don’t know whether you’re aware of it or not, and it makes no difference to me, but I’ll tell you - I made a proposal and received a refusal, and for me Katerina Alexandrovna is now a painful and humiliating memory.’
‘Why? That’s nonsense!’
‘Let’s not talk about it. Forgive me, please, if I was rude to you,’ said Levin. Now, having said everything, he became again the way he had been in the morning. ‘You’re not angry with me, Stiva? Please don’t be angry,’ he said and, smiling, took him by the hand.
‘No, not in the least, and there’s no reason. I’m glad we’ve had a talk. And you know, morning shooting can be good. Why don’t we go? I won’t even sleep, I’ll go straight from shooting to the station.’
‘Splendid.’
XVIII
Though the whole of Vronsky’s inner life was filled with his passion, his external life rolled inalterably and irresistibly along the former, habitual rails of social and regimental connections and interests. Regimental interests occupied an important place in Vronsky’s life, because he loved his regiment and still more because he was loved in the regiment. They not only loved him, they also respected him and were proud of him, proud that this enormously wealthy man, with an excellent education and abilities, with an open path to every sort of success, ambition and vanity, disdained it all and of all interests in life took closest to heart the interests of his regiment and his comrades. Vronsky was aware of their view of him and, besides the fact that he liked that life, also felt it his duty to maintain the established view of himself.
It goes without saying that he never spoke with any of his comrades about his love, did not let it slip even during the wildest drinking parties (however, he never got so drunk as to lose control of himself), and stopped the mouths of those of his light-minded comrades who tried to hint at his liaison. But, in spite of that, his love was known to the whole town - everyone had guessed more or less correctly about his relations with Mme Karenina - and the majority of the young men envied him precisely for what was most difficult in his love, for Karenin’s high position and the resulting conspicuousness of this liaison in society.
The majority of young women, envious of Anna and long since weary of her being called
