of dogs, and of previous expeditions, the conversation turned on a theme which interested them all. As it happened, Vasenka kept going into raptures over the fascination of this their camp and the fragrance of the hay, and the charm of the broken telyega — it seemed to him to be broken because the front part was taken off — and about the hospitality of the muzhiks, who had given him vodka to drink, and about the dogs, which were lying each at his master's feet.
Then Oblonsky gave an account of a charming meet which he had attended the summer before at the place of a man named Malthus, who was a well-known railway magnate. Stepan Arkadyevitch told what wonderful marshes and game preserves Malthus rented in the government of Tver, what equipages, dog-carts, and wagonettes were provided for the sportsmen, and how a great breakfast tent was carried to the marshes and pitched there.
"I can't comprehend you," exclaimed Levin, raising himself on his hay. "I should think such people would be repulsive to you, I can understand that a breakfast with Lafitte might be very delightful; but isn't such luxury revolting to you? All these people, like all monopolists, acquire money in such a way that they gain the contempt of people; they scorn this contempt and then use their ill-gotten gains to buy off this contempt!"
"You're perfectly right," assented Veslovsky. "Perfectly. Of course Oblonsky does this out of bonhomie, but others say, 'Oblonsky goes there.'" ....
"Not in the least," — Levin perceived that Oblonsky smiled as he said this. "I simply consider that this man is no more dishonorable than any other of our rich merchants or nobles. They all have got their money by hard work and by their brains."
"Yes, but what kind of hard work? Is it hard work to secure a concession and then farm it out?"
"Of course it is hard work. Hard work in this sense, that if it were not for such men, then we should have no railways."
"But it is not hard work such as the muzhik or the student has."
