Don Quixote

and the life
led by his friend was a mere phantasm. Oblonsky could not restrain a
slight mocking smile at the sight of Levin. How often he had seen
him come up to Moscow from the country where he was doing something,
but what precisely Stepan Arkadyevich could never quite make out,
and indeed took no interest in the matter. Levin arrived in Moscow
always excited and in a hurry, rather ill at ease and irritated by his
own want of ease, and for the most part with a perfectly new,
unexpected view of things. Stepan Arkadyevich laughed at this, and
liked it. In the same way Levin in his heart despised the town mode of
life of his friend, and his official duties, which he laughed at and
regarded as trifling. But the difference was that Oblonsky, since he
was doing the same as everyone did, laughed assuredly and
good-humoredly, while Levin laughed without assuredness and
sometimes angrily.
"We have long been expecting you," said Stepan Arkadyevich, going
into his room and letting Levin's hand go as though to show that
here all danger was over. "I am very, very glad to see you," he went
on. "Well, what now? How are you? When did you come?"
Levin was silent, looking at the unfamiliar faces of Oblonsky's
two companions, and especially at the elegant Grinevich's hands-
with such long white fingers, such long yellow nails, curved at
their end, and such huge shining studs on the shirt cuff, that
apparently these hands absorbed all his attention, and allowed him
no freedom of thought. Oblonsky noticed this at once, and smiled.
"Ah, to be sure, let me introduce you," he said. "My colleagues:
Philip Ivanich Nikitin, Mikhail Stanislavich Grinevich"- and turning
to Levin- "a Zemstvo member, a modern Zemstvo man, a gymnast who lifts
five poods with one hand, a cattle breeder and sportsman, and my
friend- Constantin Dmitrievich Levin, the brother of Sergei
Ivanovich Koznishev."
"Delighted," said the veteran.
{PART_ONE|CHAPTER_V ^paragraph 30}
"I have the honor of knowing your brother, Sergei Ivanovich," said
Grinevich, holding out his slender hand with its long nails.
Levin frowned, shook hands coldly, and at once turned to Oblonsky.
Though he had a great respect for his half-brother, an author well
known to all Russia, he could not endure it when people treated him
not as Constantin Levin, but as the brother of the celebrated
Koznishev.
"No, I am no longer a Zemstvo man. I have quarreled with them all,
and don't go to the sessions any more," he said, turning to Oblonsky.
"You've been quick about it!" said Oblonsky with a smile. "But
how? Why?"
"It's a long story. I will tell you some time," said Levin- but
began telling him at once. "Well, to put it shortly, I was convinced
that nothing was really done by the Zemstvo councils, or ever could
be," he began, as though someone had just insulted him. "On one side
it's a plaything; they play at being