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"Yes, there is something in me hateful, repulsive," thought

Levin, as he came away from the Shtcherbatskys', and walked in

the direction of his brother's lodgings. "And I don't get on with

other people. Pride, they say. No, I have no pride. If I had any

pride, I should not have put myself in such a position." And he

pictured to himself Vronsky, happy, good-natured, clever, and

self-possessed, certainly never placed in the awful position in

which he had been that evening. "Yes, she was bound to choose

him. So it had to be, and I cannot complain of anyone or

anything. I am myself to blame. What right had I to imagine she

would care to join her life to mine? Who am I and what am I? A

nobody, not wanted by anyone, nor of use to anybody." And he

recalled his brother Nikolay, and dwelt with pleasure on the

thought of him. "Isn't he right that everything in the world is

base and loathsome? And are we fair in our judgment of brother

Nikolay?