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 come into close relations with a pure and innocent being. This is disgusting, and so I cannot help feeling that I am unworthy."

"Well! you have not much wickedness to answer for!"

"Akh!" said Levin; "and yet,  'as I look with disgust on my life, I tremble and curse and mourn bitterly,' .... yes!"

"But what can you do?" the world is thus constituted," said Stepan Arkadyevitch.

"There is only one consolation, and that is in the prayer that I have always loved: Pardon me not according to my deserts, but according to Thy loving-kindness. Thus only can she forgive me."

drained his glass, and they were silent.

"I ought to tell you one thing, though. Do you know Vronsky?" asked Stepan Arkadyevitch.

"No, I don't know him; why do you ask?"

"Bring us another bottle," said Oblonsky to the Tatar, who was refilling their glasses and was hovering about them, especially when he was not needed. "You must know that Vronsky is one of your rivals."

"Who is this Vronsky?" asked Levin, and his face, a moment since beaming with the youthful enthusiasm which Oblonsky so much admired, suddenly took on a disagreeable expression of anger.

"Vronsky—he is one of Count Kirill Ivanovitch Vronsky's sons, and one of the finest examples of the gilded youth of Petersburg. I used to know him at Tver when I was on duty there; he came there for recruiting service. He is immensely rich, handsome, with excellent connections, one of the emperor's aides, and, moreover, a capital good fellow. From what I have seen of him, he is more than a 'good fellow'; he is well educated and bright, he is a rising man."

Levin scowled, and said nothing.