“Ah, stop a minute! Ah, the thoughts that come crowding on one! The questions one must ask oneself! Listen. You can’t imagine what you’ve done for me by what you said. I’m so happy that I’ve become positively hateful; I’ve forgotten everything. I heard today that my brother Nikolay ... you know, he’s here ... I had even forgotten him. It seems to me that he’s happy too. It’s a sort of madness. But one thing’s awful.... Here, you’ve been married, you know the feeling ... it’s awful that we—old—with a past ... not of love, but of sins ... are brought all at once so near to a creature pure and innocent; it’s loathsome, and that’s why one can’t help feeling oneself unworthy.” “Oh, well, you’ve not many sins on your conscience.” “Alas! all the same,” said Levin, “when with loathing I go over my life, I shudder and curse and bitterly regret it.... Yes.” “What would you have? The world’s made so,” said Stepan Arkadyevitch. “The one comfort is like that prayer, which I always liked: ‘Forgive me not according to my unworthiness, but according to Thy loving-kindness.’ That’s the only way she can forgive me.” Chapter 11 Levin emptied his glass, and they were silent for a while. “There’s one other thing I ought to tell you. Do you know Vronsky?” Stepan Arkadyevitch asked Levin. “No, I don’t. Why do you ask?” “Give us another bottle,” Stepan Arkadyevitch directed the Tatar, who was filling up their glasses and fidgeting round them just when he was not wanted. “Why you ought to know Vronsky is that he’s one of your rivals.” “Who’s Vronsky?” said Levin, and his face was suddenly transformed from the look of childlike ecstasy which Oblonsky had just been admiring to an angry and unpleasant expression. “Vronsky is one of the sons of Count Kirill Ivanovitch Vronsky, and one of the finest specimens of the gilded youth of Petersburg. I made his acquaintance in Tver when I was there on official business, and he came there for the levy of recruits. Fearfully rich, handsome, great connections, an aide-de-camp, and with all that a very nice, good-natured fellow. But he’s more than simply a good-natured fellow, as I’ve found out here—he’s a cultivated man, too, and very intelligent; he’s a man who’ll make his mark.” Levin scowled and was dumb. “Well, he turned up here soon after you’d gone, and as I can see, he’s over head and ears in love with Kitty, and you know that her mother....” “Excuse me, but I know nothing,” said Levin, frowning gloomily. And immediately he recollected his brother Nikolay and how hateful he was to have been able to forget him. “You wait a bit, wait a bit,” said Stepan Arkadyevitch, smiling and touching his hand. “I’ve told you what I know, and I repeat that in this delicate and tender matter, as far as one can conjecture, I believe the chances are in your favor.” Levin dropped back in his chair; his face was pale. “But I would advise you to settle the thing as soon as may be,” pursued Oblonsky, filling up his glass.