If Levin had been told before that Kitty was dead, and that he

had died with her, and that their children were angels, and that

God was standing before him, he would have been surprised at

nothing. But now, coming back to the world of reality, he had to

make great mental efforts to take in that she was alive and well,

and that the creature squalling so desperately was his son.

Kitty was alive, her agony was over. And he was unutterably

happy. That he understood; he was completely happy in it. But

the baby? Whence, why, who was he?... He could not get used to

the idea. It seemed to him something extraneous, superfluous, to

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which he could not accustom himself.




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