"If you admit its value," said Sergyef Ivanovitch, "then, as an honest man, you cannot refuse to delight in this work and sympathize with it, and give it your cooperation."
"But I still do not admit that this activity is good," said Konstantin Levin, his face flushing,
"What? But you just said ...."
"That is, I don't say that it is bad, but that it is not possible."
"But you can't know this, since you have not made any effort to try it."
"Well, let us admit that the education of the people is advantageous," said Levin, although he did not in the least admit it. "Let us admit that it is so; still I don't see why I should bother myself with it."
"Why not?"
"Well, if we are going to discuss the question, then explain it to me from your philosophical point of view."
"I don't see what philosophy has to do here," retorted Sergyeï Ivanovitch, in a tone which seemed to cast some doubt on his brother's right to discuss philosophy; and this nettled Levin.
"This is why," said he, warmly. "I think that the motive power in all our actions is forever personal happiness. Now, I see nothing in our provincial institutions that contributes to my well-being as a nobleman. The roads are not better, and cannot be made so. My horses carry me, even on bad roads. The doctor and the dispensary are no use to me. The justice of the peace does me no good; I never went to him, and never shall go to him. The schools seem to me not only useless, but, as I have said, are even harmful; and these communal institutions oblige me to pay eighteen kopeks a desyatin, to go to town, to sleep with bugs, and to hear all sorts of vulgar and obscene talk, but my personal interests are not helped."
"Excuse me," said Sergyeï Ivanovitch, with a smile. "Our personal interests did not compel us to work for the emancipation of the serfs, and yet we worked for it."
"No," replied Konstantin, with still more animation;
