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world has been derived from perceptions. The most fundamental idea, the idea of existence, has not been received by me through sensation; indeed, there is no special sense-organ for the transmission of such an idea."
     
    "Yes, but they--Wurt, and Knaust, and Pripasov--would answer that your consciousness of existence is derived from the conjunction of all your sensations, that that consciousness of existence is the result of your sensations. Wurt, indeed, says plainly that, assuming there are no sensations, it follows that there is no idea of existence."
     
    "I maintain the contrary," began Sergey Ivanovitch.
     
    But here it seemed to Levin that just as they were close upon the real point of the matter, they were again retreating, and he made up his mind to put a question to the professor.
     
    "According to that, if my senses are annihilated, if my body is dead, I can have no existence of any sort?" he queried.
     
    The professor, in annoyance, and, as it were, mental suffering at the interruption, looked round at the strange inquirer, more like a bargeman than a philosopher, and turned his eyes upon Sergey Ivanovitch, as though to ask: What's one to say to him? But Sergey Ivanovitch, who had been talking with far less heat and one-sidedness than the professor, and who had sufficient breadth of mind to answer the professor, and at the same time to comprehend the simple and natural point of view from which the question was put, smiled and said:
     
    "That question we have no right to answer as yet."
     
    "We have not the requisite data," chimed in the professor, and he went back to his argument. "No," he said; "I would point out the fact that if, as Pripasov directly asserts, perception is based on sensation, then we are bound to distinguish sharply between these two conceptions."
     
    Levin listened no more, and simply waited for the professor to go.
     
    Chapter 8
     
    When the professor had gone, Sergey Ivanovitch turned to his brother.
     
    "Delighted that you've come. For some time, is it? How's your farming getting on?"
     
    Levin knew that his elder brother took little interest in farming, and only put the question in deference to him, and so he only told him about the sale of his wheat and money matters.
     
    Levin had meant to tell his brother of his determination to get married, and to ask his advice; he had indeed firmly resolved to do so. But after seeing his brother, listening to his conversation with the professor, hearing afterwards the unconsciously patronizing tone in which his brother questioned him about agricultural matters (their mother's property had not been divided, and Levin took charge of both their shares), Levin felt that he could not for some reason begin to talk to him of his intention of marrying. He felt that his brother would not look at it as he would have wished him to.
     
    "Well, how is your district council doing?" asked Sergey Ivanovitch, who was greatly interested in these local boards and attached great importance to them.
     
    "I really don't know."
     
    "What! Why, surely you're a member of the board?"
     
    "No, I'm not a member now; I've resigned," answered Levin, "and I no longer attend the meetings."
     
    "What a pity!" commented Sergey Ivanovitch, frowning.
     
    Levin in self-defense began to describe what took place in the meetings in his district.
     
    "That's how it always is!" Sergey Ivanovitch interrupted him. "We Russians are always like that. Perhaps it's our strong point, really, the faculty of seeing our own shortcomings; but we overdo it, we comfort ourselves with irony which we always have on the tip of our tongues. All I say is, give such rights as our local self-government to any other European people--why, the Germans or the English would have worked their way to freedom from them, while we simply turn them into ridicule."
     
    "But how can it be helped?" said Levin penitently. "It was my last effort. And I did try with all my soul. I can't. I'm no good at