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"It all depends with how much judgment and knowledge the thing's

done."

Konstantin Levin looked in at the door, and saw that the speaker

was a young man with an immense shock of hair, wearing a Russian

jerkin, and that a pockmarked woman in a woolen gown, without

collar or cuffs, was sitting on the sofa. His brother was not to

be seen. Konstantin felt a sharp pang at his heart at the thought

of the strange company in which his brother spent his life. No

one had heard him, and Konstantin, taking off his galoshes,

listened to what the gentleman in the jerkin was saying. He was

speaking of some enterprise.

"Well, the devil flay them, the privileged classes," his

brother's voice responded, with a cough. "Masha! get us some

supper and some wine if there's any left; or else go and get

some."

The woman rose, came out from behind the screen, and saw

Konstantin.

"There's some gentleman, Nikolay Dmitrievitch," she said.

"Whom do you want?" said the voice of Nikolay Levin, angrily.