their host, who had just then come into the loft, making the door creak on its hinges, "aren't you asleep yet?"
"No, how can one sleep? But I supposed you gentlemen were asleep — still, I heard talking. I wanted to get a hook. — Will she bite?" he added, carefully slipping along in his bare feet.
"But where do you sleep?"
"We are on night duty."
"Oh, what a night," exclaimed Veslovsky, catching a glimpse of the edge of the izba and the unharnessed wagons in the faint light of the west through the now widely opened door. "Just listen to those women's voices singing; it is not bad at all. Who is singing, friend?" said he, addressing the muzhik.
"Oh, those are the girls from the farm, singing together."
"Come, let's go out and take a walk! We shall never go to sleep. Come on, Oblonsky."
"What's the use?" said Oblonsky, stretching, "it's more comfortable here."
"Well, then, I'll go alone," exclaimed Veslovsky, jumping up eagerly and putting on his shoes and stockings. "Good-by — da svidanya — gentlemen. If there's any fun, I will come and call you. You have given me good hunting and I won't forget you."
"He 's a splendid young fellow," said Oblonsky, after Veslovsky had gone out and the muzhik had shut the door again.
"Yes, he is," replied Levin, still continuing to think of what they had been talking about. It seemed to him that he had clearly, to the best of his ability, uttered his thoughts and feelings, and yet these men, who were by no means stupid or insincere, agreed in declaring that he indulged in sophistries. This confused him.
"This is the way of it, my friend," said Oblonsky. "One of two things must be: either you must agree that the present order of society is all right, and then stand up for your rights, or confess that you enjoy unfair privileges, as I do, and get all the good out of them that you can."
