'But in what am I to blame?' Alexei Alexandrovich said to himself. And this question always called up another question in him—whether they feel differently, love differently, marry differently, these other people, these Vronskys and Oblonskys . . . These gentlemen of the bed-chamber with their fat calves. And he pictured a whole line of these juicy, strong, undoubting people, who, against his will, had always and everywhere attracted his curious attention.