In the early days after his return from Moscow, whenever Levin

shuddered and grew red, remembering the disgrace of his

rejection, he said to himself: "This was just how I used to

shudder and blush, thinking myself utterly lost, when I was

plucked in physics and did not get my remove; and how I thought

myself utterly ruined after I had mismanaged that affair of my

sister's that was entrusted to me. And yet, now that years have

passed, I recall it and wonder that it could distress me so

much. It will be the same thing too with this trouble. Time

will go by and I shall not mind about this either."

But three months had passed and he had not left off minding about

it; and it was as painful for him to think of it as it had been

those first days. He could not be at peace because after

dreaming so long of family life, and feeling himself so ripe for

it, he was still not married, and was further than ever from

marriage. He was painfully conscious himself, as were all about

him, that at his years it is not well for man to be alone. He

remembered how before starting for Moscow he had once said to his

cowman Nikolay, a simple-hearted peasant, whom he liked talking

to: "Well, Nikolay! I mean to get married," and how Nikolay had

promptly answered, as of a matter on which there could be no

possible doubt: "And high time too, Konstantin Demitrievitch."

But marriage had now become further off than ever. The place was

taken, and whenever he tried to imagine any of the girls he knew

in that place, he felt that it was utterly impossible. Moreover,

the recollection of the rejection and the part he had played in

the affair tortured him with shame. However often he told

himself that he was in no wise to blame in it, that recollection,

like other humiliating reminiscences of a similar kind, made him

twinge and blush. There had been in his past, as in every man's,

actions, recognized by him as bad, for which his conscience ought

to have tormented him; but the memory of these evil actions was

far from causing him so much suffering as those trivial but

humiliating reminiscences. These wounds never healed. And with

these memories was now ranged his rejection and the pitiful

position in which he must have appeared to others that evening.

But time and work did their part. Bitter memories were more and

more covered up by the incidents--paltry in his eyes, but really

important--of his country life. Every week he thought less

often of Kitty. He was impatiently looking forward to the news

that she was married, or just going to be married, hoping that

such news would, like having a tooth out, completely cure him.




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