"You will end by loving her better than your own daughter."
"That's just like a man. In love, there is no such a thing as more or less. I love my daughter in one way, and this girl in another."
"I tell Anna Arkadyevna," said Vorkuyef, "that if she would spend a hundredth part of the activity she devotes to this little English girl for the benefit of Russian children, what a service her energy would render. She would accomplish prodigies."
"Now there! What you want, I can't do! Count Alekseï Kirillovitch"—she glanced with an air of timid inquiry at Levin as she pronounced this name, and he involuntarily responded by a look which was encouraging, and full of admiration—"used to encourage me, when we were in the country, to visit the schools. I went a few times. They were very pleasant, but I could n't get interested in this occupation. You talk of energy; but the foundation of energy is love, and love does not come at will. So I love this little English girl, but I really don't know why."
She looked at Levin again; and her smile and her look all told him that she spoke only with the aim of gaining his approval, though sure in advance that they understood each other.
"I agree with you thoroughly," cried he. "You can't put your heart into schools and such things, and I think that from the same reason philanthropic institutions generally give such small results."
She was silent a moment, then she smiled. "Yes, yes," she replied, "I never could. Je n'ai pas le coeur assez large to love a whole asylum of wretched little girls, cela ne ma jamais réussi. Women only do it to win for themselves position sociale. Even now, when I have so much need of occupation," added she with a sad, confiding expression, addressing Levin, though she was speaking to her brother, "even now I cannot." Then, suddenly frowning,—and Levin saw that she frowned because she had begun to speak of herself,—she changed the subject.
