During this incident Levin had completely recovered from his embarrassment. He was standing with his elbows on the back of a chair, and on his face was a look of ironical attention.

“I don’t understand it, I don’t understand it,” he said.

“What don’t you understand?” said Oblonsky, trying to maintain his sardonic smile, though the small cloud of blue-black smoke emerging from Small Stiva’s Third Bay darkened the room along with his mood. Stepan Arkadyich was a relatively prestigious personage, but two destroyed machines in one day was pushing the limits of what would go unnoticed. The last thing he needed, to compound the difficulty of a household in disarray, was the curious attention of the Higher Branches.

“I don’t understand what you are doing,” Levin continued, shrugging his shoulders and gesturing at the sizzler, still smoking in Stiva’s hand. “How can you do all this seriously?”

“Why not?”

“Why, because there’s nothing in it.”

“You think so, but we’re overwhelmed with work.”

“On paper. But, there, you’ve a gift for it,” added Levin.

“That’s to say, you think there’s a lack of something in me?”

“Perhaps so,” said Levin. “But all the same, I admire your grandeur, and am proud that I’ve a friend in such a great person. You’ve not answered my question, though,” he went on, with a desperate effort looking Oblonsky straight in the face.

“Oh, that’s all very well. You wait a bit, and you’ll come to this yourself. It’s very nice for you to have over six thousand acres of groznium-saturated soil in the Karazinsky district, and such muscles, and the freshness of a girl of twelve; still you’ll be one of us one day. Yes, as to your question, there is no change, but it’s a pity you’ve been away so long.”

“Oh, why so?” Levin queried, panic-stricken.

“Oh, nothing,” responded Oblonsky. “We’ll talk it over. But what’s brought you up to town?”

“Oh, we’ll talk about that, too, later on,” said Levin, reddening again up to his ears.