The streets were still empty. Levin went to the house of the
Shtcherbatskys. The visitors' doors were closed and everything
was asleep. He walked back, went into his room again, and asked
for coffee. The day servant, not Yegor this time, brought it to
him. Levin would have entered into conversation with him, but a
bell rang for the servant, and he went out. Levin tried to drink
coffee and put some roll in his mouth, but his mouth was quite at
a loss what to do with the roll. Levin, rejecting the roll, put
on his coat and went out again for a walk. It was nine o'clock
when he reached the Shtcherbatskys' steps the second time. In
the house they were only just up, and the cook came out to go
marketing. He had to get through at least two hours more.
All that night and morning Levin lived perfectly unconsciously,
and felt perfectly lifted out of the conditions of material life.
He had eaten nothing for a whole day, he had not slept for two
nights, had spent several hours undressed in the frozen air, and
felt not simply fresher and stronger than ever, but felt utterly
independent of his body; he moved without muscular effort, and
felt as if he could do anything. He was convinced he could fly
upwards or lift the corner of the house, if need be. He spent
the remainder of the time in the street, incessantly looking at
his watch and gazing about him.